Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Hannah rose from the desk slowly, her body aching in places she didn't realize she could have strained. Not even the promise of her own office could ease the urgency she felt to get back home, make a cup of soothing tea, and fall into bed.
She followed EM into his office and then through the door to the right which she had assumed, up until then, was a storage room or a private bathroom. He pulled the door open, reached in, and switched on the light.
Inside was a small black desk which faced away from the huge windows that lined that whole side of the building. A long, low black bookshelf lined the entire length of the wall they were facing. There were two doors, the one they stood in and one that led out into the lobby. There was a black and white hound's-tooth love seat situated between both doors. On the desk, was a computer with an enormous flat screen monitor as well as her own phone and various office supplies. Situated on top of the bookshelf, was a printer and her own fax.
"Oh," she said, sounding a little breathless even to herself. It was a lovely room. It was hers. She didn't have to share or wait for someone else to leave their desk so that she could sit and type up something quickly before they returned. She had a fax machine. If she moved the coffee pot in there, she would never need to leave her office. And she had a sofa. A sofa! She could actually sit on something that wasn't going to make her back, and shoulders, and butt ache in under fifteen minutes.
Elliott's lip turned up at the side as he watched her take it in. He never really thought much about having an office of one's own, as he had always had one for himself. But seeing Hannah, the way she ran her fingers over the soft material of the loveseat, the shiny surface of the desk, and even the computer monitor, he realized how important such a little luxury could be for someone.
Hannah sat down on the chair at the computer, having to pull the bar to lower it significantly. Whomever had occupied this office before her must have been considerably shorter than her.
"In the top drawer of the desk," he told her as she looked around, "there is a company credit card. Use it for anything that I ask you to do that requires money- food, errands, plane tickets." She nodded at him, picking up the credit card and putting it into her purse. "You may charge your own lunch or dinners on it if you are here past six at night," he said. "So, well, now you know your place. You may go home now. The checkbook is not an urgent thing," he told her and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
She could charge her lunch and dinners to the company credit card? What had gotten into him? That was completely inappropriate. He powered down his computer and shoved some papers into his briefcase that he wanted to look over before he went to bed. He had no reason to pay for her meals. She was his employee, not his girlfriend.
Maybe he felt guilty. After all, she would be working unjust hours for a pay that he would have scoffed at. And she was going to do so without complaint. Without any hassle. Without any red-rimmed eyes that suggested she had cried all during her break. The least he could do was offer dinner on him if he was going to make her work until eight or nine some nights.
There must have been someone missing her. He had kept her for eleven hours straight. He saw her walk out into the lobby, her eyes looked small and tired and she rubbed her temple absentmindedly as she waited for the elevator. She glanced back toward his office with what he could only describe as distaste. She hated him. He couldn't exactly blame her for it. He kept a breakneck pace and was demanding that of her. And it hadn't exactly escaped him that he wasn't as accustomed to praising employees as some other employers might be. She had certainly made it clear she didn't appreciate how often he forgot to say thank you.
He smiled to himself. She was a character. And she knew how to hustle. In the past five years, he had yet to find a assistant who had been able to finish all the tasks he gave them the first day. He was rough on them on purpose. He needed to weed out the ones who couldn't handle it as quickly as possible because he couldn't hold anyone's hand through the long, hard work days that were certain to come eventually.