But I don’t have to wait much longer. Declan comes storming out of Mason’s office about ten minutes after I’m done eating, the door shutting behind him. He sighs and visibly composes himself standing there in the middle of the room, almost like I don’t exist.
As his eyes slowly turn toward mine, I suddenly wish that I didn’t.
“What’s your name?” he asks me.
“Hazel.”
“Huh. Hazel.” He turns in my direction, crossing his arms. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re a baby, but then again, he always did like them young.”
I frown at that, but don’t ask him what he means. I’m guessing I don’t want to know, although I suspect it has something to do with the other assistants.
Briefly, I wonder about them. I mean, Mason is difficult and stuff, but he doesn’t seem that bad. I can’t imagine they’d all quit on him. Unless…
“You seem comfortable with him,” Declan says. “Shining his shoes already?”
I frown. “How… did you know?”
He ignores my question. “Be careful, Hazel.”
“Careful of what?”
“Of him. That man isn’t safe. He’s not what you think he is.”
“What do I think he is?” I stare at Declan, not sure what the hell he’s talking about.
“He’s not safe,” Declan says again, stepping toward me. “And you’re not safe either unless you keep your distance from him.”
“He’s just my boss,” I say, totally bewildered.
“Good. Keep it that way. If I get wind of anything…” Declan grins at me, ugly and twisted. “Well, it’ll be seven girls in seven months then.”
I nod a little, not sure what else to do. I’ve never been randomly threatened like this before, so it’s a new experience for me.
He smiles again and leaves the room without another word. The whole exchange is totally bizarre and has me reeling.
I can’t tell if Declan was trying to warn me or threaten me. It honestly sounded like a little bit of both. He doesn’t want me getting close to Mason because he thinks Mason is bad, or something like that. And maybe I’m a bad influence on Mason?
I don’t know what to think. I’ve been at this job for like two days and already one of the most powerful men in this company is threatening me over absolutely nothing. I haven’t done anything so I don’t really know why I’m feeling so defensive.
Stupid corporation run by stupid asshole men.
I’m starting to feel indignant when the light over top of the door suddenly turns on. Rogers appears at the far end and nods at me.
“Go ahead,” he says as I get to my feet. “Light means he’s calling you.”
I take a deep breath. Asshole men.
I head into Mason’s office again. He’s sitting at his desk like always, but his tie is loose and he looks exhausted.
“You called for me, sir?” I stop in front of his desk and do my curtsy again.
He seems to brighten up a little. “God, you’re awful at that,” he says.
“I’ve been practicing out there all afternoon.”
“Liar.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’ve been sitting out there reading a book, right?”
I frown a little. “How’d you know?” I wonder if he has a camera or something.
“Rogers always tells the new girls to bring a book.” He laughs, shaking his head. “You can have your phone, you know.”
I blink. “Really?”
“Really. Rogers doesn’t say it, but it’s not against the rules. I don’t normally say anything for at least a week, so consider yourself lucky.”
I smile a little bit. “Thank you, sir.”
He nods once. “Now, I need you to make me a drink.”
I glance over at the bar. “What would you like?”
“Can you make an old fashioned?”
I hesitate. “I’m sorry,” I say.
He sighs and slowly stands. I glance at his powerful chest as he comes toward me. “Of course you can’t. Come here, I’ll show you once.”
I follow him to the bar. He takes down a whiskey glass, fills it with whiskey. “First, the sugar.” He pulls a sugar cube from a little jar and drops it in the glass. “Now, the bitters and some water.” He douses the sugar with bitters and pours in some water.
I watch as the sugar dissolves under the bitters and water. He grabs a spoon and begins to stir quickly until the sugar is completely dissolved. “And now the most important step.” He pulls some ice from a bucket and drops it in before stirring rapidly again. After a moment he pulls the spoon back and holds the drink out to me. “Try it,” he says. “This is how you make a proper old fashioned. It should taste like this every time.”
I take the drink and sip it. I’m surprised at the play between the sugar and the bitter and the whiskey. It’s surprisingly good.
I hand him the glass and he puts it aside.
“Your turn.”
I bite my lip and start from the beginning. Glass, sugar, bitters, water, stir, ice, stir. When I’m done, he takes the drink from me and sips.