CHAPTER 2

He grinned and said "adorable" to himself, but I overheard him clearly, and my cheeks grew even redder as a result. I caught a glimpse of Nate smirking to himself as he watched me act timidly out of the corner of my eye.

Nate said, "You innocent soul," and I punched him beneath the table.

With the icy CEO's expression returning to his immaculate face, Mr. Michael Olivia demands in a stern voice, "Alright, everyone settle into your seats, please." We must calm down and talk over everyone's monthly assignments.

Around the room, there was muttering about their upcoming tasks. He commanded, "Quiet down." Everyone in the room grew silent and returned their focus to Mr. Michael Olivia. Now go ahead and shoot me some ideas folks, what do you all have for me? "Now everybody shoot out some of your ideas and if I like it I'll assign it to you or give it to somebody else who I think can handle the job better."

A few people rushed to express their thoughts because they were keen for Mr. Olivia's approval. He found some of their ideas to be impressive, others to be repulsive, and some he just didn't like. He gave the majority of them jobs as they screamed out.

Michael was looking for a compelling story to include in this month's edition because our company Greyson Global also operated as a magazine. So yet, none of them had made an impression on him. Until the biggest b*tch in our Greyson Global crew started talking.

God I loathe the sound of her voice, "Why don't we set up an interview with Mr. Woods, Mr. Olivia?"

The inquiry caught Michael off aback, but he soon recovered with a scoff and a shake of the head. Why would he choose us since he doesn't do interviews to any publications or anyone else for that matter?

I timidly inquire, "Who's Mr. Woods?"

On the other end of the table, Mr. Olivia's mother was occupying a seat, and I'm not sure how I missed her. She raised her voice and gave me a blunt explanation of who he is. I've always been afraid of ladies. It's fair to say that Mr. Woods wasn't the friendliest guy around, based on what I've heard and learned.

After reading her critical biography of Mr. Woods, I remark, "Oh okay," trembling and gently.

I gave Emily a "what the fuck are you smirking about" look as she grinned at me. She gave me a wink before turning to face Mrs. Olivia, who admired Ashely and her concepts. Pfft, you sucka.

She questioned Mrs. Olivia, "Why don't we get Isabella to try getting an interview with him?"

I raised an eyebrow as I fixed my wide-eyed attention on the whore smirking. My palm began to perspire as I suddenly felt uneasy. I took a breath and shot Emily with daggers before focusing solely on Mrs. Olivia, the witch. Just like she did to everyone, she stared down at me as if she were superior in an effort to frighten me.

She kept her icy, menacing glare on me and asked Emily, "Why should she do the interview?"

She smirked and continued, "Well, I think that since she wants to move from her position as an intern she will do anything to get to where she wants to be in this business. She is one of our hardest workers and I can't see anybody better than her for the job. Therefore, I think she should be the one to interview Mr. Woods.

Michael yelled at them, "She won't be doing that at all!" That was hot, man.

Mrs. Olivia, hoping to provoke her handsome son, asks him, a phony smile flickering across her Botox face, "And why not, my son?"

Because...Because she is...

The question "She's what, son?"

He answers sharply, "Because she's my intern and I don't think she's ready to take on a challenge just yet like interviewing a mean bastard like Mr. Woods."

She gave him a mocking smile, "Aw, well, aren't you sweet to look out for your little intern."

"Drop it mother, she's not doing it," he growls.

Emily's irritating voice joins in, "Mr. Olivia?" Have you seen a decline in our ratings recently?

He asks with sarcasm seeping from every syllable, "No Emily, of course I don't know how my company's doing, after all, what kind of boss would keep up with such information."

We were all chuckling at Michael's snarky remark when her jaw suddenly locks, but she forces a phony smile back onto her face. intelligence, good appearance, and humor. Wow, he's so ideal.

She turns and cozies up to Mrs. Olivia knowing that Michael is simply too intelligent for her and that she can always get her way by brain-fucking Mrs. Olivia. Simply put, "I'm just saying we really need something to get us back our ratings and that will interest our readers."

Mrs. Olivia hums, "Hmm." We really need to attract our readers back and have a story ready for them that will genuinely engage them, so you make a good point.

Ashely sighs in frustration, "That's exactly what I'm saying Mrs. Olivia." She smirks, "And what better way to pique their interest than an interview with one of the hottest, wealthiest, and youngest CEO's there is?"

Michael rolls his eyes and scoffs. "I certainly wouldn't give a fu**"

Michael, enough," his mother snaps. We're moving forward, and that's final, Ms.

Everyone is staring at me while I fiddle with my pen. When I sense that everyone in the room is staring at me, I slowly turn to face their menacing glares.

I sigh and turn to face Mrs. Olivia. "M-Me?"

She snaps mockingly, "No the man in a clown suit behind you." "You slow child, yes you. What's your name?"

fucking shithead. Once I toss you against a brick wall, your speech will be slurred.

"I'm Isabella Jones, that's me."

She replies, raising her perfectly plucky eyebrow, "Well Isabella, you're going to try and get an interview with Mr. Woods as your job for this month, understand?"

I took a sip and nodded.

"You, Isabella,"

Mrs. Olivia snarled, "Shut it, Michael.

She gave him a mocking smirk as he launched deadly daggers in her direction. The room was buzzing with conversation as everyone talked about their upcoming projects for this month.

Michael's eyes softened instantly as his steely gaze switched to mine. He said, "I'm so sorry," with a sad expression on his face.

I offered him a toothless grin and turned my attention away to Nate, who appeared anxious. "What's wrong?" you ask.

He repeated hysterically, "What's wrong?" "What's wrong is that you're going to get your fat ass fired, that's what's wrong!"

"What, why?" you ask.

He shakes his head and says, "I'll tell you when we get to the office." "Isabella, you shouldn't have agreed."

I lean back in my chair, ignoring everyone around me as questions go through my head. Why is this CEO "Robert Woods" so bad? Why was he such a huge deal? Why is there such a commotion about this? If this is the first I've heard of him, he obviously isn't all that large or great. However, I had a terrible feeling that he wasn't at all good news. When I get to my cubicle, I guess I'll just have to google search him.

When the devil called my name, I zoned out once more.

Are we clear? She asks commandingly, that goddamn eyebrow arched, "Isabella, you will email Mr. Woods and request an interview. If he denies the email, then you try harder to catch his attention.

"Yes."

She hissed, "Yes what?"

The answer is "yes, Mrs. Olivia."

She huffs and pulls her pricey Louis Vuitton bags up with her as she stands up from her seat. She smirks mockingly at me and says, "Good luck. I'd like to be informed with his response."

Along with Ashely, "devil 2" gets to her feet. Actually, I'm still figuring out who of the two of them is the bigger devil. Yes, exactly like the movie, Nate and I refer to Victoria Olivia as The Devil Wears Prada, and for Ashely, it just sounds "devil" to us. Simply put, she is a bitch.

Before Ashely follows Mrs. Olivia out the door, she stops at the door. She chuckles, "I can't wait to see you fail this. "Wow, that was smart of me to suggest such a great idea, huh?"

I struggle to restrain myself from scratching this woman as my hands tighten into fists on the table and my vision begins to tremble. When a big hand encircles my little one, I look down to find that it's Michael's exquisite hand. When he touches my hand, it starts to tingle, and I get a bit dizzy.

With a huff, Ashely—or should I say the devil—leaves.

He pats the back of my hand with the tip of his gentle thumb and whispers, "Don't worry about them two. He laughs, "My mother is just...well, do I really have to explain. Ashley is simply jealous of you.

His face cracks a broad smile as I laugh. As if to say, "Just when I thought you couldn't get any cuter," he chuckles.

I turn a bright scarlet and glance down at his hand, which is still completely around my fist.

He removes it and mutters, "Oh apologies. I have to stop myself from clutching his hand once more since I am on the verge of whimpering at the break in contact.

"I swear if that Woods acts like a dick-I mean-"

I laughed and interrupted him. I grin and say, "Relax Mr. Graysooon." "You can swear in front of me, and I'll keep your secret."

He shakes his head and laughs. I don't want him to scare my young intern and make you feel bad, I'm serious. I know what a jerk that person can be.

I smirk, "I'll have you know I don't scare too easy, Mr. Olivia."

He smiled in return and laughed. You clearly don't know anything about Robert Woods, right?

I stick out my mouth and say, "Nope, but that's what the internet is for."

He plays with my hair and says, "Well you better go do your research kid." I slap his hand away. He kisses the back of my palm, leaving a scorching feeling where his lips were placed, and says, "Aw, don't pout. I'm sorry."

He says firmly, "Come to me if you need any help at all with this, okay?" I am aware of how Woods can be.

I chuckle, "Wow, you're not doing anything to make me feel better about this task your mother gave me."

He laughs, "Oh right. Sorry." Good fortune.

My attractive boss left immediately after that. As he walked, Nate and I leaned in to check out his ass. Nate whispered, "I'd tap that," and I muttered, "damn."

We made fun of each other and left to talk about this "Robert Woods" in our offices.