Own Me (Savage Bosses)

8. Ayana

CHAPTER 8

Ayana

M y eyes fly open. I bolt straight up in the bed. Anxiety fires through me. I rub my eyes and turn my head, blinking until my vision focuses on the alarm clock numbers.

"Damn it!" I throw the blankets off me and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I want to kick myself for forgetting to reset the alarm.

With no time to spare, I throw on the clothes I had laid out the night before and brush my bedhead in the car on the way to work. It’s my first official day in my new position, and it’s starting off rough.

Last night, I struggled to sleep, caught up in a web of worry about how I will handle my feelings for Sterling on top of the pressure of my new office responsibilities.

Five minutes late, I dash down the hallway to my office to see Sterling striding toward me. He stops and glares at me with his fist on his hips. His fierce, blue eyes electrify my entire body.

“Ayana, I need coffee now. Make it black, no sugar.” His words are dry. He hasn’t offered a good morning or anything.

“Yes, St—Sterling, sir.” Sheesh! Why can’t he let me get settled at my desk and get familiar with my duties before demanding I make his coffee?

With my purse still under my arm, I hustle back towards the breakroom that I passed on my race through the building. I assume I can brew coffee there. Lord knows I wasn’t about to ask him for help. At least he didn’t notice I was late ? —

“And try to be on time from now on,” he snaps from behind me. “Being new is no excuse for being tardy.”

The rest of the day proceeds in a whirlwind of frustration and second guesses. No matter what I do, Sterling comes back with a harsh correction. My memory overflows with contradictory orders he has given all day. When I finally leave the office after six, his voice is still buzzing in my ears. My day is tainted with a litany of his snippy comments:

“This coffee is lukewarm. Remake it.”

“Come on, this file’s alphabetization has a mistake. Did you pass kindergarten?”

“Why does this coffee not have sugar in it? I take sugar with my lunch coffee.”

“You shouldn’t need more than twenty minutes for lunch.”

“Have you never used a paperclip in your life?”

“Why does this coffee have sugar in it? I don’t take sugar with my late afternoon coffee.”

“Why would you paperclip the papers in the green files? Didn’t Vanessa tell you they should always be stapled?”

“You didn’t plan on going home early on your first day, did you? You have so much to learn still.”

By the time I’m in my car to go home—the first time I’ve had a moment to myself all day—I’m ready to pull out my hair. Instead, I take deep breaths as I clench the steering wheel.

“You can do this,” I tell myself, looking in the rearview mirror. “Don’t let him get in your head. This job is yours. He can’t take that away from you. You’re too fucking good at your work. He’ll see soon enough.”