Chapter 7: Chicken Tenders?

I open every single drawer in the desk, searching for somewhere he may have left directions on what he wants for lunch, but I already know they don't hold my answers. Two minutes go by as I search for the solution to my needs. A magic lunch fairy. Something. After coming back empty-handed, I gather the courage to enter his office and take my tiny stack of Post-it notes and pen to his door.

I knock and the door opens. Valiant sits behind his desk with his suit coat open to show the white shirt he wears underneath. He lounges in his chair behind a large oak desk, its top empty except for a computer monitor.

"Mr. Valiant, is there anything in particular you want for lunch?" I ask, ready to write down anything he tells me. The man could ask for a calamari sandwich with ketchup on the side and I'd figure out a way to deliver.

He looks up and his face is full of anger and annoyance. His lips pinch together in a straight line and his eyebrows furrow. "You haven't ordered already?"

"No. How would I know what you want to eat?" A big heavy pit of doom settles in my throat and I swallow hard to push it down and pretend it doesn't exist.

I checked the desk drawers, and no one gave me instructions on what he wanted for lunch. How was I to know? Shit. It would be me to fuck up on day one.

"I sent you an email!" he yells without quite having to raise his voice. It's like a father who yells at a child and makes him feel like dirt without having to scream and rant. It's worse in a way. "Do you mean to tell me haven't once checked your email this morning?"

"Well... I logged into the computer. I wasn't sure what email program we were using."

"The one on the taskbar." He places his phone on the desk harder than a normal person should if they're concerned about cracking the screen. His eyes blaze, and even in their anger I don't miss how hot the sparkle of blue is against his slightly tan skin. "You came recommended, Ms. Marshal. I would hope you have enough smarts to check an email program."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Valiant. It won't happen again." I take a deep breath, refusing to cry in front of my boss the first two minutes we work together.

He shakes his head. "I hope not. You're only here to keep the seat warm. You're my temporary assistant not a rocket scientist. It shouldn't be hard for you to figure this job out."

"Of course, sir. I will check my email now and get your lunch ordered."

He huffs like he finds my presence in the room disgusting. "There's no time for that now. Here," he says scribbling something on a piece of paper and holds it out for me over the desk.

I walk across his office with speed and do my best not to trip on the heels and break an ankle.

"Just grab these items from the cafeteria as fast as possible. I have meetings this afternoon and need to eat."

I nod my head once and get the hell out of his office.

On the elevator twenty seconds later the doors open, one floor lower than Valiant's, and a woman rushes on using only two long strides to clear the space. No one told me where the cafeteria is and I hit the ground floor button hoping I'll find someone at the front desk in the lobby to help. The elevator makes the climb down until it stops to let someone on at the fourth floor.

A gorgeous woman with long black hair and legs that any person would die for steps onto the small space. I put myself in check, aware tears rim my eyes and not wanting to cry in front of a new coworker.

Valiant Industries owns the entire building, each department receiving space on one floor. Either of these women could be a desk mate after I finish my time with Vincent.

"Bad day?" the new woman asks standing beside me.

I nod and watch her gaze travel down to the white badge I'm still wearing around my neck.

She whistles between her teeth. "Valiant secretary. Good luck. None of us know how Amy handles the man the way she does. I'm Roxanne," she says and holds her hand out to shake mine. The first person nice enough to say hi. "Secretary for accounting. Valiant is an ass, but he's a brilliant entrepreneur so we put up with him."

"I'm seeing the lesser qualities." I laugh and then stop myself. Not a splendid idea to trash my boss in the elevators on the first day of work. What if he has cameras or listening devices hidden around the building?

Roxanne's eyes sparkle. "He probably hasn't had his coffee. Make sure and pick him up a tall with three to four creamers."

I check the items he scribbled on his piece of paper and don't see a coffee but shrug. What could getting an extra coffee hurt?

The items Valiant ordered read like something a regular person would eat for lunch. He hasn't asked for caviar or shrimp platters. He wants four chicken tenders, two packages of coleslaw, and ranch dipping sauce. A bit middle school cafeteria, but whatever.

If I didn't know better, I'd say the man was almost normal. I may have only worked here for a few hours today, but I'm grossly aware that Vincent Valiant is anything but a normal man.

The lobby is almost clear of employees by the time I make it to the first floor and step off the elevator only to spot a gigantic sign with an arrow pointing down to a lower floor and the words cafeteria stenciled on it. I leave Roxanne and head that way, reaching the large cafeteria space, ordering the items he requested, and paying for them with my credit card. It takes three days for any money to register to an employee ID badge and if I use my debit card to pay for Valiant's food I won't have any extra savings to cover food for myself. It's ramen noodles until payday.

When I sit the bag on top of Valiant's desk, he has his ear pressed to a phone call, and he doesn't so much as look in my direction except to wave his hand across the space as if he expects me to unpack his food.

I do.

I want this marketing job. My brother is four years younger than me and often while growing up I had to help him with his food too. It's the same thing.

"What's that? I didn't order that." Valiant points to the large Styrofoam cup I place next to his chicken tenders.