"Clarissa, come to my office in three seconds," Raymond's annoying voice sounds over the telephone as soon as I pick up.

I bite my lip quickly to avoid replying "One, there's no way I can get to your office in three seconds and secondly, my name is not Clarissa. It is Rosa!." But it is too late, he hangs up quickly and I can imagine him glancing at his watch and slowly waiting for me to appear in his office so that he can send me on useless errands.

I suck in a deep breath and scurry to my feet, balancing on my three—inch heels. I straighten my tight pencil skirt and pull down my office wear blouse before walking to the elevator.

Pressing the button, I wait for it to open. There is no way I am going to get up there into his office in three minutes, as usual. You may ask why my boss's personal assistant is like three hours from him. Yes, that's Raymond Connor for you. A Billionaire who loves his space. He wants to be as far away from people as he possibly can.

The elevator dings and the door opens graciously. I give out another exasperated sigh before stepping in and pressing the fourth—floor button. I compose myself while in the elevator. Seeing my boss gives me the creeps each time so calming myself before walking into his dark office.

And this has nothing to do with his looks or anything. If we were talking about looks here, he's going to be number one. Because underneath his space and obnoxious body, he has the face of a movie star. Not to brag too much, but I am working for a total hottie!

The elevator dings again and I prepare to step out. When the doors open again, I walk majestically to his giant wooden door. I lift my hand up and tap on it gently. His stern voice seeped through the walls and diffused through my body, "Come in, Cara."

I bite in another groan, take a deep breath to calm myself before twisting the doorknob and pushing myself in. With my eyes basically on my black heels, I walk straight to stand in front of his desk and almost say in unison, "You are eleven minutes late."

I slowly lift my gaze to where he sits and our eyes meet. But not in the way you'd hear fireworks or anything, no. This is just bombs, going off in the background. Kaboom! Kaboom!

That is how I feel each time I walk into his office. But what can I do? I've been working here for like two years and I don't think I'm ready to lose that. That's why despite him sending me on useless errands and calling me wrong names, I still stay. I have a family to fend and I wasn't going to let all that go down the drain because of an annoying son of a...

"If you are not happy to be working here, you can always let me know, Ciara. I'm not going to complain," he begins.

"What do you need, Sir?" my gaze meets with his and I think he can see the rage in mine.

I want to jump on his table and kick him hard in the face but that is impossible because one, the skirt I am wearing is too tight and secondly, I love my job and hate my boss. I mean, who wouldn't? I am working for one of the biggest fashion companies in the world! And each day, I get to literally do nothing but type away on my computer and just attend to my lazy ass boss. It is exciting yet boring but the pay was great too.

"For you to be here on time and attend to my needs," he almost shouts. He never shouts.

When he notices that he is being a bit too extreme here, he sits back in his high seat, straightens his tailored suit and clears his throat.

He looks like a total god sitting there like that. He is almost perfect. Almost because his character is extremely rotten. With his short jet black hair which always looked like he had gotten out of the shower and his light beard which looked like ants spread out, he looks like a typical billionaire. Exactly the ones you see on TV shows being interviewed about how he got rich blah blah blah. Like those hot guys in the magazines.

"Here, take this," he says as he takes an envelope from on top of his desk and hands it over to me. I quickly take it and squeeze it to feel what was inside. But all I can feel is a piece of thin paper.

"What is this?" I whisper, a bit confused.

A smile spreads across his lips as he relaxes in his seat, weaving his fingers together. "You don't know what this means?"

I frown and shake my head. I refuse to think the worst. Calm down, Rosa, this is not a dismissal letter. Calm down, you've been working here for almost two years, he can't just fire you, I chanted to myself.

"You have been laid off... no, let me rephrase, you are fired," he replies waving his hand to match his words.

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. I step back in awe as my breathing becomes faster. Fired?!

"Fired? How? Why?"

"I don't know," he pouts and looks away.

I bite in response and just lick my lips as a way to shut up. He fired me and he doesn't know why? This man has got to be the most ruthless man on this planet!

"Crying or pleading won't change anything. Take that envelope and start a new life, buy a house somewhere or you can get a new job with that, you know, start a business or so, live your life, Corner Fashions doesn't need someone like you anymore," he shrugs his shoulders like firing me was no big deal.

I shut my eyes and take in another deep breath. I am tired of holding everything in. But I can't. I am tired of biting everything in. I am tired of everything. I have been fired anyway, so I have nothing to lose.

"And who said I was going to beg to stay here? I didn't want to work here anymore either. This company is full of obnoxious and arrogant people. Their CEO is, so who can blame them?," I spit out as coldly as I can.

His eyes quickly avert to me as his eyebrows rise in shock.

"Take your shitty company! You guys aren't even capable of making your own designs. You just wait for helpless people to make their own designs and you buy them. They need jobs not money! Do you think money is everything? As long as Connor Fashions exists, you people will just be copycats! You can never beat your rival companies!," and with that, I take off my heels, throw them on his expensive carpet, turn around and walk majestically out of the office, leaving Mr... no, Raymond Connor with his jaw—dropping to the floor.