Chapter One

"No dad, I have to- okay. Yes. Okay, I- Yes dad,", I hastily checked my watch. I'm in a rush to get to Beetle Ports headquarters and dad isn't letting me off the phone, "Dad listen, I have to- "

"I'm serious Aurora, don't screw this up. Your mother and I both expect big things from you. Think of all- "

I sigh into the phone; I regret telling him that I got the job. My heels clack on the ground as I speed along the city pathways.

"I've got to go dad.", I say as I hang up and round the last corner to the building.

My watch says seven-forty-five, which means I'm early, but I wouldn't cut it any closer. Being tardy is professional, being early is respectable.

Today I'm wearing a sleek black skirt, a cream satin blouse, and black leather stilettos. Perfectly simple. Classy.

Ms. Bailey greets me at the door, legs straight and hands held in the front. She's a striking woman but not because of her features. She's striking because she stares at you as if she knows everything. As if you couldn't get past her, even if you were invisible.

She walks me to the elevator, and guides me to one of the top floors, explaining that the CEO's office is the top floor, along with the board room and amenities. She doesn't say it, but it is understood that I am not to go there unless permissed.

Ms. Bailey's office is on the second top floor, along with a bedroom for herself. She tells me that to be efficient, you must be available. My office, a large mahogany desk, sits just outside of hers, staring out to the side.

Ms. Bailey picks up a clipboard as we finish the tour, returning to the bottom floor, "My previous assistant will be training you for this week,", She says, speaking to the door, "His name is Mr. Lopez. Excellent man. You've got big shoes to fill, though I'm sure you won't disappoint.". She guides me out the front door, "Your training schedule will be emailed to you by tonight."

I bid her goodbye with a nod and tightly smile once she's turned away.

The week of training truly shows what big shoes I've been given to fill. Mr. Lopez is an excellent man, and I find myself running to keep up with him.

In his speedy expDaisytions, Mr. Lopez shares that Beetle Ports owns forty-three percent of all docks and ports around the country, specialising in international shipments. He also explains that I am under no circumstances allowed to visit the top story alone. I must always be accompanied by Ms. Bailey or another higher-up. He also shares that only one of the three elevator doors leads up there, so if I've got my wits, I should be alright.

Throughout the week, I'm shown how to be of best use for Ms. Bailey. Mr. Lopez tells me that she is a very demanding woman, she will not accept ninety percent. If I am asked to do a job, I am to go above and beyond for it, that I am expected to prove myself with every chance I get.

On the last day of the week when Mr. Lopez is finalising all that he can, he sends me on more errands that I can count. I'm in a frenzy most of the day, rushing around after him, and in the last few moments of the day he sends me to the office, the second top floor, to grab his final box of items.

As to not make him wait, I speedily walk along the corridor, making my way to what was previously his large mahogany desk. Picking up the box, I pile whatever's left around the desk on top, blocking my vision as I do.

It's hard to keep my pace as I walk back to the elevator, considering the weight of the box on my heels.

I struggle to hold it as I feel around for the elevator button. A fallen object presses into my face as I fumble for the down button. When the ding sounds, I take the steps into the elevator before straightening up and pressing Ground.

It signals that there is one more trip up.

I take a moment. Up? But this elevator only goes to the second top-

Oh no.

I don't wait a moment, frantically I press for the doors to open. But they've already shut. I click, click, click. No use, the elevator begins its ascent. If only it knew the horror.

I stare at the doors, wide eyed and in horror.

Mr. Lopez's words come to me that I am under no circumstances allowed to visit the top story alone.

I gulp.

The elevator slows and I try to hold my heart in my chest. It will be okay. This was an accident.

So much for proving myself.

Slowly the doors open, I stand with my chin high and look out.

Men and women fill into the elevator, chatting as they do. There must be eight at least and none seem to notice me. That is, until the tallest man steps in. My heart catches in my throat.

Mr. Scott, the CEO.

I squeeze into the back corner and dip my head slightly. Through my lashes, I watch him.

Mr. Scott is young. It makes sense, he inherited the company from his recently deceased father. He stands tall and separate, speaking only if spoken to.

I lower my eyes. Mr. Scott is good looking.

We slowly descend and time seems to slow down. Like I said, waiting has never been my strong suit. As quiet as I can, I adjust the box in my arms. It's growing heavier with every second and I fight not to place it on the floor. In my struggle, young Mr. Scott turns around.

His eyebrows furrow as he looks at me. He tilts his head as if to say, 'who are you?' and my eyes widen. The door rings freedom and I follow everyone out. As soon as they exit, I take a hard right and run for the door, leaving Mr. Scott behind.

Mr. Lopez watches the ordeal in horror.

"Did-...", He stutters, subtly pointing to the elevator.

"It was an accident, I promise.", I rapidly whisper as I walk to him, trying my best to pretend like nothing is wrong.

He closes his mouth and nods. He then takes the box from my arms, "Ms. Bailey will not be hearing about this.", he mumbles before Lopezding a small, polite smile my way.

My heart fills with air.

"Thank you.", I breathe.

And with that he nods, holds out a hand for me to shake, which I do, and leaves the building.

Before I can have any more unwanted encounters, I check my surroundings and haul out of there.

[] [] []

I have a strict daily routine.

In the mornings I run at six, shower at six forty-five, eat breakfast at seven, and walk to Beetle Ports Headquarters at seven thirty. This ensures I'm at the building at seven forty-five and working at seven fifty-five.

In the afternoons I dedicate fifteen minutes to reading and ten to stretch, but other than that, I mostly spend my time with friends.

"Aurora, come on. You know you want to dance with me.", My friend Eva calls out, twirling in an attractive way. We're at a Mexican restaurant tonight, last Friday it was Italian. Tonight, they have a band playing.

Bless whoever can get Eva off that floor.

"I know that I don't want to dance with you.", I laugh, wiping my mouth with a napkin. Eva is not like me. She is colourful and sexy, and out of all my friends, she is the one with the most boy escapades.

"Go on Ro Ro,", Another friend chimes. Helly. Her twinkly earrings sway as she turns to me, "Go, you'll have fun.".

I smile at her, but shake my head, "You know firsthand that dancing is not on my resume."

Helly chuckles and turns to Eva, "I'll dance with you Eva."

Eva hollers at her.

I watch as I dip a chip into salsa.

An hour later, Daisy, my hot mess friend, comes barrelling in and sits down in a puff, slinging her guitar on her back.

"You don't even want to know how my evening went.", she breathes, about to tell me exactly how her evening went.

[]  []  []

It's odd the next time I show up to work. Mr. Lopez isn't there to help me anymore and I'm expected to carry my own load.

I can't help but look over my shoulder every now and then for bad news from Mr. Scott.

"I need these taken to the sixth floor, ask for Ms. Jones.", Ms. Bailey tells me as she places a box of papers on my desk.

I nod to her, "Of course."

The sixth floor is like the second top floor, it's laid out almost identically, so it's natural to walk up to the reception desk.

Ms. Jones is a bubbly, plump woman, and I wonder how she was hired. Most people in this establishment are very... serious looking.

She chatters along as I follow her to an office decorated in picture frames and flowers.

"So,", Ms. Jones starts, causing me to look up to her, "I need you to tell Ms. Bailey that these are... Unacceptable,", she flicks through the pages, skimming each one, "If she asks why, tell her that the plans for the eastern dock are two metres too small for these plans among other things that I'm happy to discuss with her."

I don't want to tell Ms. Bailey this.

I nod and take the box from her.

"Thank you.", she bids with a smile.

Ms. Bailey isn't happy when I tell her the news. She tells me to go back down and speak to Ms. Jones, telling her that the numbers match and that she is incorrect.

This initiates a passive aggressive argument that I'm the mesLopezger for.

The argument takes three more visits to Ms Bailey, but from the second visit I can tell she is becoming irritated with me. I am handling this situation wrong.

She clenches her jaw as I come out of the elevator door the fourth time.

"Ms. Jones said that-...", I'm handling this wrong. I know it. I am supposed to simplify Ms. Bailey's day, not increase stress, "Ms. Jones disagreed again. Would you like me to double check the numbers for us?"

Ms. Bailey sighs, and lowers her glasses to rub her eyes, "Alright."

Turns out that Ms. Bailey and I were wrong, but so is Ms. Jones.

"The angle of the west wing is three degrees out,", I state, showing an agitated Ms. Bailey my discovery, "Will I share this with Ms. Jones and get her approScott for a reprint?"

Ms. Bailey nods and I stifle my smile.

That afternoon, as I gather my items into my bag, Ms. Bailey trots over to me. Casually she rests against my new desk, crossing her arms.

"Aurora...", she starts, "Mr. Scott told me of a person in his elevator Friday afternoon,", she stares me down and my heart sinks, "He described her as very blonde, in a black skirt, a white blouse and heels, coming from the floor below, and carrying a large box.", she raises an eyebrow as she looks at me.

My mouth gapes open. It was an accident, truly, but I know that accidents aren't tolerated here. I stutter with my words.

"Whoever that was...", Ms. Bailey drawls, locking eyes with me, "Had better not do that again."

I understand what she's saying.

I nod and hold her eyes. She nods also, before turning back to her office.

She takes a few steps before turning to me again, and a hint of a smile perks up her lip, "You handled Ms. Jones well today."

I smile and lower my eyes.

[] [] []

"Dad, I get what you're trying to say but- "

"No Aurora, you don't get it. Your mother and I- "

"I get it dad!"

"No, you don't! Listen- "

I hung up.

After Ms. Bailey's council, I went into the shops. Shopping therapy is a real thing.

I've never been one for colourful clothing, for as long as I've been able to dress myself, I've been in crisp blacks and navies, whites, and creams, occasionally greys.

I spend my time amongst shops in the high-end section of the city, hiding my reaction at each of the price tags. At the end of the street is my favourite store, Mart. B. It is filled with the most beautiful clothing an office worker could dream of. I can't afford anything in it, but occasionally I let myself go for a stroll. I sigh as I flow my hand through an extensive range of silk wear

Then, I spot him in the back corner of the suit section.

Mr. Scott is feeling a fabric between his fingers.

Quickly, I slide behind a pillar.

He won't remember me, it's not reasonable; he saw me for a few seconds at most in the elevator.

Still, I clutch my bags tighter in my hand and head for the door.

Cautiously, I poke my head over my shoulder to spot him.

He looks up.

Both our eyes widen.

I turn to speed away but my bag catches on a hook. In the moments that I spend freeing it, Mr. Scott walks up to me.

"Who are you?"

Oh no.

My mouth dries up, "Uh- ", I stumble, before swallowing, "I- I'm Aurora."

Mr. Scott raises and eyebrow, "...Aurora?", He drawls.

I nod.

He purses his lips, waiting for me to further.

I'm so done. I sigh. This was not how this afternoon was supposed to go, 

"Aurora Flores."

"Flores... Why were you on my floor yesterday?"

I'm not able to hold his eyes. They're dark.

"Uh, I- ", I stutter again. I close my eyes. This is technically my boss, but he doesn't seem to know me. This is my chance for a good impression.

I straighten up, "I was on your floor yesterday via a mix up with the elevators. I was collecting Mr. Lopez's items- "

"You took the wrong elevator."

I can't hide my abashed face. He's right, I took the wrong elevator.

Mr. Scott's lips perk. He then nods and eyes me up and down. I keep my chin up.

"You're Ms. Bailey's new assistant.", he states, slowly lifting his eyes back up.

I nod to him, keeping my eyes on his face.

He's quite handsome, in a frightening way. He has dark features. Dark brown eyes, Dark brown hair, dark tanned skin. His suit is immaculate, like it'd been pressed once for the morning and once for the afternoon. He isn't adorned with any jewellery besides a ring on his pinkie and a watch on his wrist, it's rhythmic clicking making him seem almost robotic.

His eyes land back on mine, and he hums a note, pursing his lips.

I keep silent.

Then he nods and turns back around.