Chapter 1 The CEO
Chapter 1
“The CEO”
POV Madeline.
It’s pouring rain, I forgot my jacket, and I’m late.
I look like a drowned rat when I reach the building and see myself in the glass door.
My red hair is stuck to my face, and my makeup is running like I’m doing the walk of shame after a one night stand.
The doors open and I bolt for the elevator, slamming into a large man and almost tripping over another.
I slide into the empty elevator like a pro.
I tap the 82nd floor button and inhale deeply.
You can do this, Madeline. You can get this job and make something of your life.
‘The jury is still out,’ Alice, my wolf, mutters.
At the last second, a massive man in a tux, shoves his hand between the doors, stopping them instantly. He steps inside, his grey, storm colored eyes meeting mine.
Coffee stains cover the front of his dress shirt.
Oh no.
I step back to give him room.
His gaze lowers as he slowly looks me up and down, from my wet, dripping hair to the puddle forming under my shoes.
He looks at the button I pushed.
“You’re here for the assistant job,” he says firmly. “Don’t bother.’“
‘You fucked this one up and you haven’t even had an interview,’ Alice, my wolf, chuckles.
“Thanks for the moral support,” I grumble at my wolf.
“May I ask why I shouldn’t bother?” I ask the man.
“Do you want the truth, or do you want me to sugarcoat it?” he asks.
“Truth.”
“You bumped into me, spilling coffee all over my three hundred dollar shirt without so much as an apology.”
“So if I had stopped and...”
“I’m not finished. Don’t interrupt.”
He snatches the wet folder in my hand and opens it.
He pulls out my wet resume and laughs.
I look down.
“You’re late, rude, and clearly put no effort into your appearance. What idiot thought you were good enough to work for my company?”
I bite my lip. I don’t want to get Amelia, my cousin, in trouble.
The elevator stops.
A woman stands there trembling and steps back without a word.
Then my mouth kicks in.
The one that always gets me in trouble.
“You know what?” I huff. “You’re no picnic either, asshole.”
“Excuse me?”
“The fact that everyone is terrified of you tells me you go through assistants daily, you treat people like garbage, and I’m guessing people are nice to you in person but secretly hope you get hit by a bus,” I smirk.
“Your opinion matters little to me.”
“Spoken like a true narcissist.”
“Is that so?”
He leans in and sniffs me.
How rude.
“Listen, jackass,” I hiss. “You may be insanely fuckable, your eyes dreamy, and your voice is husky and addictive, but your mouth ruins the whole package.”
I lean into him. “You smell good too, like Old Spice.”
His demeanor changes, his eyes lighten, and he smiles slightly.
The doors open and the smell of cake drifts in so I follow my nose.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he says, following me.
A group of employees are celebrating someone’s birthday.
I steal a slice of cake.
Vanilla strawberry cream, my favorite.
The music stops, and everyone suddenly looks horrified as they notice the man standing next to me grabbing a piece of cake.
They all scatter like chickens.
“Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance,” I laugh.
I walk back towards the elevator and press the down button.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the man asks, following me.
“Home,” I say. “ My mate rejected me, my adopted family hates me, I forgot my wallet, and I’m starving. Honestly, you’re kind of a dick, so I probably dodged a bullet.”
He presses the up button.
“I’ll buy you food if you let me fire you later.”
We both hear my stomach grumble at the mention of real food.
“What do you get out of firing me?” I ask.
“Oddly, it relieves my stress when I fire or yell at people.”
“Firing people is your therapy?”
“Yes.”
I take a deep breath.
“Fine. But warn me first so I can give you a dramatic reaction. Plus I want a day’s pay and a decent lunch.”
“Deal.”
The elevator opens, and all the employees run out like he has the plague.
“There’s cake in the lounge,” I yell out after them before stepping back in the elevator.
“I didn’t catch your name,” I say, putting out my hand.
“You don’t know who I am?” he raises a brow.
“That was implied when I said I didn’t catch your name.”
“Kraven Lockwood.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Lockwood.”
“And you are?”
I tilt my head. Shouldn’t he know who I am?
“Madeline Song.”
The doors open on the 82nd floor.
The air shifts from light to tense.
We walk up to his office, and there is a pretty brunette at his reception desk.
“Hi, Mr. Lockwood. Your messages are on your desk and…”
“You walked into my office?”
“Just to leave your messages, sir.”
“Who are you and why are you at my assistant’s desk?”
“Miranda hired me yesterday to help you out.”
“You’re fired for walking into my office without permission. I already have an assistant for today. Now get the fuck out of her desk.”
The woman starts crying, grabs her purse, and runs.
“Call Miranda and tell her I want to see her ASAP,” he barks at me and walks into his office.
I sit at his reception desk and flip through the office extensions and dial Miranda.
“Hello, Miranda. Mr. Lockwood would like to see you in his office.”
“Oh,” she hangs up.
I pull out my purse and mirror, wipe off my rain-smudged makeup with baby wipes, quickly braid my hair back, and read the to-do list on my desk.
A blonde with crystal blue eyes walks up like she’s just stepped off a fashion shoot.
“Where is the girl I hired?”
“He fired her for going into his office without permission.”
“Kraven and his idiosyncrasies.” She laughs and walks into his office.
My desk phone buzzes and I pick up.
“You’re walking on thin ice, Miss Song. You are to announce anyone before they come in by hitting the red button to activate the intercom,” Mr. Lockwood says.
“Oh.”
“That’s two for three, Miss Song. Next one, you get fired.”
