Chapter 4 Where The F*ck Is She !

Xander's POV:

"ETHAN WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!" I thundered, on the verge of a full blown angry meltdown.

I hadn't been brought my fucking cappuccino frappé and I was seething at this point. Glancing at my watch, I checked the time- a half past ten. I had been at my desk since seven!

Ethan Ryder my doting personal male assistant and dare I say best friend rushed in.

"Where's who?" Confusion laced his blue irises.

"The girl that always makes my freaking coffee!" I roared, beyond pissed.

They both knew I couldn't do without it. It made me more productive.

It kept me at ease and helped me be on my best behavior most of the day while I signed papers and rushed off to meetings with my business associates, given my temper.

"You mean Isabella Clarke? Your female assistant?" Ethan inquired further, titlting his head slightly.

"No I mean Georgiana- Of course I meant Isabella. If that's her freaking name, then Yes!"

"Where the fuck is she?! I was supposed to have gotten my frappé hours ago!" I sarcastically spat, my anger growing by the minute.

Ethan wasn't fazed. He was the only one that had gotten used to seeing me like this and never quit no matter how rudely I treated him. That had brought us closer over time.

"I'll try calling her to find out what the issue is." He calmly responded.

"Do that and tell her to report to my office immediately she sets a foot into this building." I growled out.

As he took his leave, I did my best to calm my temper as I got down to work.

Not long after, I heard the twisting of the handle as someone stepped into my office.

Knowing who it was, I didn't bother looking up, continuing with my work instead.

"Good morning Mr Velasquez. I was told you requeste-"

The nerve!

"First off, I don't request, I command.

Secondly, you're fired." I swiftly told her, still fixated on my work.

I expected the next sound to be that of one exiting my office. But then,

"Please sir, I-I promise it won't happen again. I really need this job. My alarm clock failed to ring and-"

Why did her voice sound so familiar?

I slammed my fist on the table, irritated.

"I already told you. You're-" I began, prepared to sink those words into her thick skull.

However, the next words got stuck in my throat the second my eyes landed on her.

I recognized her immediately.

It wasn't like me to remember faces, but hers was one I found hard to forget.

She was the vixen from the previous night.

"That was you?"

I had no idea she was my personal assistant. Having more important work to take care of, I never bothered to notice her.

"Uh.. What was me?" She asked, looking unsure.

"Nevermind, You said you needed this job. On a scale of one to ten, how much do you need it?" I leaned back, picking up my phone to send an urgent text to Ethan.

Me: Isabella Clarke's details. Now!

Ethan: On it sir.

"Ten. I really need it and I'm willing to do anything." the vixen responded.

Looking up, I reached into my drawer and picked a document, placing it on the table.

"In that case, sit and sign that document."

"What's it for?" she sat, curiously peeking at it.

"A Marriage Contract." I deadpanned.

"What?"

Was she suddenly deaf?

"You heard me right the first time."

Nothing could have prepared me for what she did next.

She laughed.

She freaking laughed!

I could feel my blood boiling as I imagined turning that laughter to tears. Did she think this was a fucking joke?!

Maintaining my composure, I kept myself in check. No point showing my emotions.

"In that case, No. I will not sign it. Feel free to fire me instead." she got up and turned to leave.

What? It wasn't enough to laugh?

She dared to refuse me?!

Did she have an inkling how many women will kill to take her spot?!

My phone vibrated, alerting me of a new message.

Ethan: Turns out she has a father that's pretty much on his death bed with a bill she hasn't been able to fully sort out.

Her mother is an absentee parent who left them when she was at the tender age of five.

He's the only one she has left.

Interesting..

You will regret laughing and refusing me, little vixen. Starting from now.

"I will pay for your father's surgery as well as any additional costs if you sign this contract.

We wouldn't want poor Daddy to die now, would we?" I called out at her retreating back, maintaining my calmness.

She stopped in her tracks.

I now had the upper hand here.

"No." she said before turning to face me.

At least she had a good head on her shoulders and could be reasonable.

"Good girl. Now sign those papers so 'Daddy's' treatment can commence." I lightly mocked.

She moved towards the table once more, shoulders slumped.

Sitting, she patiently went through the terms of the contract.

Oh? So she had thought of that.

Most women would have gone straight to signing the contract. After all, just the prospect of being married to me, however fake, was enough to make them lightheaded.

Seemingly satisfied with the terms, she appended her signature, officially becoming my 'Mrs'.

Oh, Isabella, you will rue the day you met me.

"Clear your plans, we're going out to dinner at my father's tomorrow." I snarkily ordered with a wave of dismissal as I took the contract off the table.

She seemed stunned for a few moments before responding "O-Okay."

"You may take your leave now. Also, I want my coffee within the next five minutes."

"Mhm.. Alright sir." she still sat dazed.

I glanced at my watch "You have four minutes remaining."

"Oh my- One cappuccino coming right up!" She sprinted out of my office, panicking.

Frowning, I remembered something else.

"Oh, and Isabella?" she skidded to a halt.

"It's 'Sir' to you at all times, once we're in this building." I went back to my work.

She was silent for a few beats, then,

"Of course.. Sir."

"Two minutes remaining." I reminded, and her eyes widened.

"Shit!" She bolted out of my office.

Tick tock Princess.