One Look At You (9 page)

“Let’s not talk about this anymore. We’re never going to see eye-to-eye. Anyway, what happened to you? Jen was worried and Melanie was bummed out. What’s the big secret?”

“Just felt like going away for a couple of weeks. I was in Mexico, checking out this newly-developed tract of land where the condos are selling like hotcakes. Then I met someone and stayed longer. End of story.”

“I hear ya. But, why the secrecy?”

“You don’t get it. I’m on call 24/7. My clients bug me even in the middle of the night. My parents are always breathing down my neck. I just want to be away and not have to talk to anyone. Period. So, I turned off the phone, the tablet, the laptop, and just chilled.”

“No, I do get it. Technology can be a buzz-kill.”

“Exactly. Face to face conversations over drinks and good food – those, I appreciate.”

“I’m just curious, though, why are we here? How come Jen and Melanie aren’t joining us?”

He smiles. “See, Livie, right there, that’s why I chose to go out with you tonight. You have this generosity of spirit that they don’t really have, especially the entitled Melanie. You never want to hurt anyone’s feelings. You’re very giving that way.” I look down, rather touched at his words.

“Don’t be hard on them. Jen is a worry-wart. And Melanie is just hard on the outside. That’s just her packaging, so to speak.”

“True. But you’re the easiest one to talk to, unless, of course, you’re torturing yourself about some imagined wrongdoing,” he looks at me, challenging me to disagree. I say nothing.

“Oh, Mark.”

“I think I’m in love.” He says it with a smile, but his face is utterly serious.

“No! Who? A lovely senorita you met in Mexico?”

“Yup. She’s not from there. She was vacationing with her family. She’s from New York.”

“Details, please.”

“Blonde, gorgeous long legs.”
Mark’s weakness.
“Eyes as blue as the ocean, an enhanced version of Gisele Bundchen,” he continues.

“You have got to be kidding me. How can anyone be a better version of the top model in the world?”

“She is,” he says nonchalantly. Mark is not prone to exaggeration, so when he says that, I know she must be truly out-of-this-world beautiful.

“When do we meet her? Is she paying you a visit soon?”

“Sadly, no. She’s an assistant editor for
Lovely Magazine
.”
Of course she is.
“She has a pretty demanding schedule and can’t take the time off. I’ll have to pay a visit to the East Coast.”

I frown because I know how difficult a long-distance relationship can be. “You’re okay with that?”

“Do I have a choice? When we get married, I’m sure she’ll be willing to move.” He’s already talking marriage? Though I feel that he’s moving at an alarmingly fast pace, I don’t say anything. He’s happy. Why ruin it?

“Okay, you definitely have to tell the girls. This is big!” I advise him.

“Of course I will. Now, enough about me. Tell me, are you gonna be okay going to work tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’ve already told him I’m resigning, so all I have to do is get my personal stuff. It’s not even half a box,” I say with resignation.

“Livie, have you not been listening to everything I’ve told you?” He looks like he wants to strangle me.

“I’m not working for him. I can’t be professional, knowing how we’ve been… you know.”

“Then go back to John. Tell him to reassign you. Are you crazy? You’ve been working for Gallo’s for, what, three years? Why commit career suicide?”

“Because he pretty much told me that I need to stay put. He needs me for the transition phase and he won’t get anyone else,” my voice cracks.

“That means he’s being professional. He doesn’t give a damn about what happened between you. That’s a good sign,” he says eagerly.

“Mark, I can’t do it. I look at him and I remember what happened. I’m near him and sometimes I can’t breathe. It’s going to get in the way of my work! When he didn’t know it was me, I was just afraid and uneasy. Now that he does, I’m in a state of panic.”

“You’re not thinking this through. How long is this transition phase? A month or two, tops. After that, he will have no reason to keep you as his assistant. The man heads the finances of one of the top one hundred corporations in the world. He has no time to pick another person and orient her on what he needs. Having you there is the lesser of two evils.”

“Thanks,” I say drily.

“Do you really think that he would let his personal thoughts or emotions interfere with his professional life? That’s ridiculous!”
Well, when he puts it that way, I guess, he does have a point.

“He did say that I won’t be getting a reference if I leave him in a lurch.”

“And I agree. That man can make your life a living hell if he wants to.”

“So, what you’re saying is that I should suck it up and pretend that everything is normal?”

“Listen to my words of wisdom, Livie,” he says with a disarming smile.

“I’ll sleep on it,” I say grudgingly.

“In the meantime, let’s order. I’m starving.”

It’s casual Friday, but I decide to dress with extra care. I have to face him with confidence. I put on a black pencil skirt and a long-sleeved cotton white shirt with a lace bodice. My curly brown hair is neatly pinned in a low chignon. I have decided to use contact lenses and put on more make-up than usual of late. I apply two coats of mascara and light brown shadow to accentuate my brown eyes in a low-key way. A touch of blush on the cheeks and a dab of pale red gloss on my lips. I’ve long resigned myself to the knowledge that I’m not beautiful. I’m plain as vanilla, but with the right make-up, I can look presentable.

I choose a pair of high-heeled black pumps which I seldom wear. Most of my shoes are for work and, somehow, I’ve managed to buy a number of them in black. I try not to wobble in the shoes. I need the extra height so I don’t feel disadvantaged when I’m standing close to him.

I make my way to my trusty old Nissan, get in, and start the car. As usual, I get on the 101 and wait for the grinding pace to begin. Typical rush hour with bumper-to-bumper traffic, and drivers impatient to reach their destinations. Why did I have to take so long with my make-up? I turn on the radio, but can’t find a station that has music to calm my nerves. Everything is a cacophony of rap and pop, so I turn it off.

I do a mental rehearsal of what I should say. Should it be ‘good morning’ first, or just skip that and immediately go into my decision?
Ughhh!
Never mind. I’ll just blurt out the first thing on my mind. No, I really can’t do this anymore.

Mercifully, I find myself at the exit not too long after I put a stop to my inner struggles. Two blocks from the exit I make a right and then enter the parking lot building. I grab my purse and walk steadily to the entrance of the tower. I wave to Robert, the concierge.
Is he ever off?
I absent-mindedly wonder. He’s here like 365 days in a year.

The elevator is full of people who have made it just in time. I smile at one or two familiar faces. Finally, the doors open to the penthouse. This time, I walk slowly. I am fighting against my instinct to turn around and take an elevator down instead. But my legs do miraculously bring me to his office, and I go in after taking a deep breath.

“Good morning, Tony. I have decided to stay,” I say abruptly and with no explanation. “However, I ask that you let me go back to John as soon as you are able to choose your permanent assistant.”

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you longer than necessary,” he says with an amused drawl. Wow! He manages to make me feel ridiculous for asking. “Did he convince you to stay?”

I can only assume that he’s referring to Mark, so I answer truthfully, “Yes, he did, actually.” I look straight at him, daring him to say more. He gazes speculatively at me, his mouth pursed tightly.

Because he says nothing, I go to my desk, but he follows me.
What does he want now?

“Your revised report?” he asks.

My what?
And then I understand what he’s asking for. I quickly go through the documents on my desk and retrieve the report. I give it to him without comment.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I respond coolly. He goes back to his office and I thankfully sit down to stop the shaking of my limbs. Be calm, Livie. It’s over. You have nothing to worry about.
Really, nothing to worry about?
If only that were true.

On an impulse, I call John. He answers on the third ring. “Yellow.” I smile at his familiar greeting.

“Hi, John. I miss you. Come rescue me,” I say half-jokingly.

“Who are you kidding? You’ve got the big desk and upgraded hardware. Why would you want to go back?” He laughs at his own joke.

“Does Ana want to trade you in, too?” I lobby back.

“Never. We’re a perfect match, kiddo.”

They really are and, for a moment, I let out a wistful sigh of envy.

“It’s TGIF, why do you sound like you’re moping around? Is Tony making you work overtime every night? Do you want me to give him a piece of my mind?” I laugh at the image of easygoing John giving the aristocratic Tony a dressing down.

“No, I’m okay. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Don’t forget about the regular people on this side of the floor,” he says.

“That would be impossible.” As I put down the phone, I feel a little lighter. I daydream a little about being back at my old desk and never… okay, rarely… dealing with Antonio Oliveira Avery again.

At six o’clock, I want to call it a day but, as I start to gather my belongings, Tony comes out and says, “Please don’t leave. I just got a call from Tio Maximo and he’s not happy with the performance of three of our shops in London. He wants us to examine the ratios. Can you please call one of the nearby restaurants to deliver dinner? A sandwich for me and whatever you want.”

Does he think I have no life or does he just not care? He just assumes I’ll drop everything at his command. So inconsiderate. Then I remind myself that this is only temporary. So, I ask him in a voice dripping with saccharine sweetness, “Is there a particular kind of sandwich you would like?” Corned beef on the rye? Roast beef with crème cheese? Tuna with arsenic?

“I don’t really care,” he responds abruptly.

Of course, you don’t. You don’t care about anything but your work. I get it.
I roll my eyes and proceed to make a phone call to Lucille’s, three blocks away.

A few seconds later, I hear the phone ringing and know it can only be him, so I go to his room with my notepad. “You rang?” I ask him.

He just looks at me and points with his left hand to one of the visitor’s chairs, indicating that I should take a seat. For the first time, I wonder why he’s so driven. If those London shops are underperforming, he can always look at the numbers next Monday. He doesn’t have to do everything right away. It’s like he’s trying to find an excuse not to leave the workplace. Doesn’t he have anything to do outside the four walls of this office?

I suddenly notice that he’s looking at me, as if waiting for an answer. What the hell did he ask?
Focus, Olivia.
I look back at him, waiting for him to repeat his words.

“I asked you if you can come in tomorrow, as well. I want to be able to send an analysis report to my uncle by this weekend.” There goes my hang-out with the girls and, possibly, my lunch with Mom.

So I ask what’s expected of me, “What time do you want me to come in?”

“Not too early. Eight will be fine.”
Not too early? What planet is this man from?

“I’ll be here.”

“In the meantime, email me the numbers I asked. I sent you an email while you were on the phone.”
Of course you did. Can you be any more efficient? Stop it, Liv.
Sarcasm doesn’t become me, but this guy is pushing all my buttons.

“I’ll go do that now,” I say quickly.

Lucille’s delivery guy arrives after an hour, and I bring him his sandwich. I’m about to go back to my seat when he says, “Why don’t you have your dinner here with me?” I really would rather eat by myself, but I realize that it would be churlish to refuse, so I go and get my Chinese chicken salad.

We eat quietly until he breaks the silence, “This club sandwich is so good.”

I can’t help but smile because he sounds like a little boy who’s enjoying a wonderful treat. “It is, isn’t it? I have it all the time.”

“Then why are you having a salad?”

“I thought that the faster I eat, the faster I can get back to work.”

“Don’t you mean, the faster you can get out of here?”

“That, too,” I say honestly. He throws back his head and laughs loudly.

“I appreciate the candor. No one has ever verbalized a desire to leave my side, but… there’s always a first time.” As he smiles, I’m mesmerized by his slate gray eyes and thick black eyelashes. The banker’s lamp on his desk casts a shadow on the planes of his face, and his prominent cheekbones are on display.
It’s a crime for a man to look this good
.

He catches me staring at his face and I blush. “Uhm, I think I better get back to work,” I say softly, embarrassed for being caught.

He stands up and sits right across from me on the other visitor’s chair. “Do you still feel uncomfortable working for me?” he asks in a gentle tone.

“No, I…” I pause, not knowing what to say.

“Olivia, I need you to assist me, and you can’t do that effectively if you get jumpy every time I call your name or look at you.”

“I know. It’s just that it’s hard not to react this way because of where we started.”

“Where exactly is that?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“What if I told you that we can have
tabula rasa
. Tonight, we’ll wipe the slate clean.” I stare at him like he’s talking crazy.

“I’m serious. Hi, I’m Tony. And you are?” I don’t answer for a long time and then I pretend to play along.

“Olivia. Olivia Harris.”

“Glad to make your acquaintance, Olivia,” he says as he reaches for my hand to shake it. When he does, I smile and he looks earnestly at me. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I shake my head.

“Okay, Olivia. You got your wish. You can go to your desk now and continue working on the data I requested. I have a mountain of paperwork here. I’ll work on these while you gather the info on London.”