CHAPTER 7: Putting up with my trash

MILES:

"Mr. Pierce, you need to take it easy on yourself. Stressing out will only weaken your immune system. Take a rest and take your medication later. And consider hiring the assistant we recommended; it will be beneficial in the long run," Grenada advised as I settled down.

The dizziness was fading, and I was regaining my composure. "Fire the HR and everyone who gave that girl access. Every single one of them!" I commanded.

"Yes, sir," Brandon replied promptly.

I wasn't upset about being undermined, but rather by the audacity of the girl who dared to challenge me. She was not the type of person I would ever allow to be part of my team. I had specific preferences when it came to my employees, with Grenada being the exception. For women, I preferred tall, slim, model-like figures, blonde or brunettes, not someone with dark hair and curves, lacking in fear.

"Get me, Michael. Now!" I demanded. He was my lawyer, and with his help, I would make sure that girl regretted crossing me. He had the ability to dig into her life with just her phone number. That was the power of being well-connected.

The legal process went smoothly, just as I had anticipated, and I had already made arrangements for the court to draft something in my favor. After all, I was the victim in this situation. It was time for her to experience the consequences of her actions. Before Grenada left, she insisted once more on the importance of hiring an assistant. She was persistent, and eventually, I relented. The ideal candidate would be curvy, knowing that I would make her life difficult, and she wouldn't last a week. It seemed like an easy task.

The following day, she arrived, eager and unsuspecting. I fought the urge to laugh; this was only the beginning of what I had planned for her. A week was too generous; she would crack by the third day. Then, perhaps Grenada would finally get off my back. That would be a relief. My strategy was simple: ignore her at first, then gradually increase her workload while being as condescending as possible. This was just the start of my revenge.

As I was still recuperating, my days felt more like a vacation, although a forced one. Nonetheless, I insisted on handling a few tasks from home. Deliberately, I kept her waiting for over thirty minutes before finally returning to where she sat.

Standing directly in front of her, I exuded an aura as dark and menacing as any creature that might lurk in the jungle. My body remained completely still, my eyes sharp and watchful, fixed on her every move.

Her gaze locked with mine, unwavering and deadly accurate, draining my energy. For a fleeting moment, I entertained the idea of changing my mind and having her thrown out. But then, I reminded myself of the plan I had in place—a plan that would ensure her eventual dismissal, if only she knew her place.

"Miss Tate?" My voice, deep and masculine, cut through the air, jolting her from her contemplation of standing up to me and offering her a glimpse of the coldness yet to come.

"Mr. Pierce, how long am I to work here exactly? And—" she began, only to be interrupted by the tightening of my mouth and the impatient shiver that coursed through my body.

"Rule number one, Miss Tate: you don't speak until I permit you to. Secondly, make sure to stay out of sight. I have no desire to be subjected to your presence. And lastly, you will work for six months, that is, if you last a week. Your job is simple: shut up, attend to all my needs, and remain invisible while doing so."

I could sense her body tensing with anger—a reaction that only fueled my determination. This would be even easier than I had anticipated.

"May I ask a few questions?" she ventured cautiously.

"Choose your words carefully," I warned, my tone dripping with disdain.

"Firstly, let's get one thing straight: I'm your assistant, not a slave," she retorted defiantly. "Secondly, I'll be staying here or—"

Her implication that she might stay with me caught me off guard. Was she suggesting living with me? She was even more audacious than I had imagined, comfortable suggesting such a thing to a man she barely knew. With a scoff, I replied, "This is not a shelter, Miss Tate. Clearly, you have a home of your own. You'll only stay here until I no longer require your services. After that, you can return to your own residence."

"Understood," she replied obediently.

"And remember, you address me as sir. Not Mr. Pierce or anything else," I reminded her firmly.

"Understood, sir," she acknowledged.

"Lastly, get rid of that car. I don't want to see it anywhere near my property," I ordered.

"That's the only means of transportation I can afford. Surely, you wouldn't want me to be late to work because of traffic or unreliable transportation," she countered.

"Fine. Just keep it out of my sight," I dismissed her concerns.

"Yes, sir," she replied obediently.

"I also have specific requirements regarding your attire. Always comply. Whether you're fetching ice cream for me at the mall or accompanying me elsewhere, you dress as if you were guarding the president. You will accompany me everywhere, at any time requested, without question or rebellion. One misstep and you're out," I warned sternly.

"Understood, sir," she affirmed.

"Now that we're clear, Brandon will give you a brief tour of the areas you have access to and the general rules of the house," I instructed.

Observing her closely, I could see the anger boiling beneath the surface. Her face was flushed, and her fists clenched tightly. Yet, she maintained eye contact with me, refusing to waver. "What is my first task now that I'm starting? Shouldn't I be given—"

"Once again, the rules are simple. Shut up, do as you're told, and stay invisible. Don't question my authority," I interrupted sharply.

"Yes, sir," she replied, her voice barely concealing her frustration.

"That's more like it," I thought to myself. Now, I just needed to conduct a background check on her. Even if she wasn't staying long, knowing who entered and exited my household was crucial. It was best not to be caught off guard.

"That will be all. After the tour, get ready. I have a business meeting to attend, one I want to conclude as soon as possible," I instructed.

"Am I coming?" she inquired.

"Are you not my assistant? What do you think your job entails? If you're unsure, I suggest you G****e it. And while you're at it, do some research on your boss, so you won't mistakenly refer to him as a 'cleaner,'" I replied, my tone dripping with disdain.

She lowered her gaze in embarrassment, and I almost found it amusing.

"I apologize," she muttered.

Once again, I cut her off mid-sentence. If she was uncomfortable with my dismissive behavior, she could quit. I had more important matters to attend to than a girl who failed to recognize her employer's significance. I would ensure that even the sound of my footsteps instilled fear in her.