Rhea's POV:
Okay, so let's get this straight—Mr. Cortez is a toxic perfectionist jerk. I mean, how does one guy manage to drive you absolutely crazy in less than five minutes? Oh, right. Because every word out of his mouth feels like a threat to deduct my salary if I step a single toe out of line. Great, I've got the job, but my sanity? Not so much.
I'm about to spiral, but hold on. I need to tell you about my first day at work so you get the full picture.
After I got the job, the secretary handed me a detailed schedule for the week, which—let me tell you—was packed. If Mr. Cortez's schedule was that hectic, then it meant mine would be, too, because my entire job was basically following him around like his shadow. I was going to be with him 24/7. Fun, right?
The secretary then briefed me on something I wish I could've unlearned. Mr. Cortez literally hates everything—and especially women. It was my job to make sure no women were within five feet of him. Five feet, I'm not joking.
Here's the kicker: Mr. Cortez didn't know that I was a woman under this whole "Mr. Rowan" disguise, so I was about to spend my days as a woman repellant for a man who hates women. The irony was chef's kiss. It was like feeding someone something they absolutely hate without them realizing it. Sweet, sweet revenge.
So, after my lovely orientation (read: sinking into despair) and getting a rundown of my schedule, I finally left the building around 1 p.m., knowing that my first official day was tomorrow. I didn't have an office—well, not really. It was more like a corner with a table and a chair. Nothing glamorous, unlike the secretary's office, which was all shiny and fancy but far away from Mr Cortez office. My little corner was conveniently placed right outside Mr. Cortez's office door, though. Not that I'd ever be in there much.
The secretary claimed that Mr. Cortez didn't want me in a proper office because I'd be with him all the time, and when he got tired of looking at my ugly face (yeah, he didn't say it like that, but that was the gist), I'd get to sit in my little corner like some sort of time-out. Fun.
So, with my official start date set for tomorrow, I headed home. On the way, I stopped at a thrift shop to pick up a few more suits—because hey, I'd finally gotten a job, and I needed to look the part. But after my little shopping spree, I was down to just enough for locomotion money (translation: subway fare) and nothing else. No lunch. No extra anything. Let's hope Mr. Smarty-Pants pays on time or I'll be the world's most broke personal assistant.
When I got home, Lucy was hard at work typing away on her laptop. She was in the middle of her latest novel, and her online readers were growing steadily. I filled her in on the job and how I'd used a few creative tactics to land it—only to find out that the CEO was none other than Mr. Cortez. Yeah, you can guess what happened next.
"Hold up," Lucy said, her eyes widening. "You mean the guy who got you fired and the guy from your one-night stand is the CEO? That Mr. Cortez?"
I nodded, and she was already deep into her fantasy world. Lucy was already creating scenarios in her head. You know where this is going, right? She was imagining us tangled up in steamy positions in his office. Yeah, of course. That's Lucy for you. But I quickly reminded her that right now, I was Mr. Rowan to him and that Mr. Cortez disliked women with a passion. I was to be a woman repellant to keep my job.
"No wonder that lady in the red suit always seemed to be on edge," I said. "She never stayed for more than a minute, and she always stood so close to the door. I thought it was because she was scared of his 'intense aura,' but now I get it. She probably knows about his… preferences."
I swear, I can't with her sometimes.
Anyway, after that, Lucy spent the evening teaching me how to remove and reapply the mask without messing it up. By the time I woke up the next morning, I didn't need her help to get it right. She been up late last night working on her novel anyway, so I wasn't about to bother her.
I woke up earlier than usual, determined to be on time because Mr. Cortez hates lateness. Seriously. He once fired someone for being three minutes late. Three!
So, I did my disguise alone this time, and I've got to say—it looked perfect. I looked like the cute guy Lucy promised me I'd be. Taxi? Check. I arrived at 7:30 a.m.—thirty minutes early—because, yeah, I'm not a latecomer.
I'd gone over my to-do list that morning, making sure everything was in place for the day. I didn't forget to swing by the building next door for Mr. Cortez's coffee either. The barista immediately asked if it was for Mr. Cortez, and when I nodded, she took over, saving me the trouble of flipping through my notes for his preferences. Apparently, everyone at the café knew his exact coffee order. There was this one time when a barista messed up his drink, and boom, she was fired.
"Good luck, newbie," the barista said with a smirk. "You'll need it. In three days, your eyes will be sagging, and you'll be in full-on depression mode."
I wasn't sure if she was joking or if she was giving me a glimpse into my future. Either way, it didn't sound good.
That should tell you everything you need to know about working for Mr. Cortez.
But the part that really stood out? The way she winked at me after I smiled. Yeah, the "cute guy" disguise was working wonders.
By the time I got to Mr. Cortez's office, I was ten minutes early. I placed the coffee on his desk, exactly as he instructed, and then went to my sad little corner to begin what I was sure would be a long and torturous day.