章 2: Chapter 2

I stayed glued to my desk with my coffee and a bag of trail mix I'd purchased from the vending machine as everyone started to leave for lunch. Normally, I'd bring leftovers or go with the other interns to get something, but time was not on my side today. I glanced up when I heard the sound of the office door opening, and my face lit up with a smile when Sara Dillon entered. Sara, who worked in accounting, was enrolled in the same MBA internship program at Ramirez Media Group as I was.

"Ready for lunch?" she questioned.

I will have to forego it. The day from hell is today. I glanced at her sheepishly, and her grin morphed into a sneer.

"Day from hell, or boss from hell?" She took a seat on the corner of my desk and informed me that he had been in a bad mood this morning.

I looked at her with knowledge. Although Sara didn't work for him, she was well-versed in Robert Ramirez. He was a living legend in the building as the youngest son of company founder Elliott Ramirez and was known for having a short fuse.

"Even if there were two of me, I wouldn't be able to get this finished in time," I said, emphasizing the impossibility of my situation.

Sara's smirk deepened. Well, best of luck. I'll get you something to munch on when I get back. She stroked my arm and proceeded out the door. I sighed and opened my laptop, bracing myself for the long afternoon ahead.

Sara's smirk turned into a laugh as she heard my request for fifty pounds of chocolate. "I'll see what I can do," she said, before leaving the office. As I finished off my coffee, I noticed a run in my stockings and moaned. I muttered to myself, "And on top of everything else."

Suddenly, I heard the door open and assumed it was Sara returning, so I continued talking. "I wish I could eat my feelings later, so if you happen to go somewhere with chocolate, can you bring back fifty pounds for me?" I said, but when I looked up, my heart sank as I saw Robert Ramirez standing in front of me.

I hastily pulled my skirt down as the blushes on my cheeks got scarlet with humiliation. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ramirez, I—"

He interrupted me and spoke in a harsh and irritated voice, "Miss Brown, in addition to assembling the Papadakis presentation, I also need you to go to the Willis office and fetch the market analysis and segmentation for Beaumont. You and the other office assistants can gossip about lingerie issues during your free time."

I bit my lip, trying not to let his contempt get to me. Yes, sir, I answered, attempting to maintain a steady tone of voice.

He adjusted his tie and cast a quick glimpse in my window at his reflection. "Do you think you can manage that?" he questioned, his tone hinting that he didn't feel I was competent.

I inhaled deeply, attempting to maintain composure. Naturally, Mr. Ramirez. I'll move quickly to get there. I couldn't help but feel angry and humiliated as he left. I wished I had the courage to challenge him, but for the time being, all I could do was finish the assignment he had given me.

I grumbled under my breath as I left Robert Ramirez's office, attempting to suppress my wrath. Is that what he called me—an "office girl"? I told myself. "Sure, I'm an intern, but I've been working for this company for years!" I was resolved to complete my degree at Northwestern University in four months and escape this hellhole forever.

I rang the doorbell and asked him to explain the assignment he had given me. I tried the knob after getting no response. Locked. "He's probably having a late-afternoon quickie with some trust fund princess," I thought, furious. I stuffed the manila folder through the mail slot in the hopes that the papers would fly out and make him pick them up by himself. suited him just well.

I found myself planning a very bloody and drawn-out murder of the young boy at The Copy Stop as I worked on my presentation. A simple task, I thought to myself. "Should have been a piece of cake. Out and in. But no. It took two hours."

I hurried down the dimly lit hallway while looking at my watch and haphazardly clutching the presentation materials in my arms. It was 6:20 pm. "Mr. Ramirez is going to have my ass," I thought to myself, remembering how much he hated lateness. Along with "heart" and "kindness," "late" wasn't included in the Robert Ramirez Dickhead Dictionary.

I muttered under my breath, "Compassion," "lunch break," or "Thank you," rolling my eyes in disbelief. I was in disbelief that he was requiring me to do this.

I couldn't help but feel dread as I stormed down the hallway in my flimsy Italian heels. I anticipated Mr. Ramirez's wrath toward me. But I had no option. It wasn't my fault that the copies took longer than expected to complete.

I stopped to collect my breath when I got to the conference room and then I knocked on the door. Mr. Ramirez's strong voice shouted, "Come in," from the other side.

I walked in after opening the door and pausing to take in the magnificent view of the city. But my adoration was short-lived when I spotted Mr. Ramirez seated at the head of the table, glaring at me with a look of sheer displeasure.

I spoke with a slight tremble in my voice, "I'm sorry, Mr. Ramirez. "The print job took--" I stopped myself, not wanting to make excuses. Are you prepared for me to start?

Mr. Ramirez didn't say anything but nodded for me to start. I cleared my throat and began my presentation, trying my best to ignore his intense gaze.

He remained quiet and focused on his own copy as he examined the different elements of the proposal. Why was he so calm? His temper outbursts I could manage. The unsettling quiet, however. It made me uneasy.

When it occurred, I was gesturing toward a group of graphs while slouching over the table. "Their timeline for the first milestone is a little ambi--" My speech came to an abrupt halt as my throat tightened. After softly touching my lower back, his hand slipped down and landed on the curvature of my ass. He never intentionally touched me during the nine months I worked for him.

"This was most certainly planned."

The heat from his palm seared through my skirt and into my flesh. My entire body tensed, and I experienced a liquefying sensation inside. The devil he was doing what? My head shouted at me to shove his hand off, to warn him to never touch me again, but my body had other ideas. My jaw clenched in response as my nipples hardened. nipples of a traitor.

While my pulse hammered in my chest, at least half a minute passed, and neither of us said anything as his hand slid down to my thigh, stroking. The only sounds in the quiet conference room were our breathing and the soft noise of the city below.

"Miss Brown, please turn around," he spoke in a gentle tone, causing me to sit up straight and face him. I rotated my body slowly, keeping my gaze fixed in front of me. As I turned, he ran his hand over my body, his fingers gliding down to my hip. I could feel the way his hand expanded from his fingers on my lower back all the way to where his thumb rubbed on the delicate flesh just in front of my hipbone. His eyes were fixed on me when I looked down, and they did so with interest.

I observed the rise and fall of his chest and noticed that his breathing was becoming deeper with each breath. His sharp jaw twitched, and he started to move his thumb back and forth while maintaining eye contact. He appeared to be waiting for me to stop him, even though I had ample time to push him away or leave. However, I was too caught up in my emotions to respond immediately. This was a new feeling for me, and I never expected to feel this way. I had conflicting desires to hit him and to grab him by his shirt and lick his neck.

He muttered, "What are you thinking?" with eyes that seemed both mocking and worried.

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