Chapter 16 - Mr. Cane’s Doppelganger

"I'm sorry, what now?" I'm not really sure I heard that right. At the risk of sounding dumb, I asked Mr. Cane.

"I said, you can stay here tonight." Not really sure how to respond to his absurd statement, I keep quiet.

"Are you deaf or something?" His cold tone has returned.

"No, I heard." I snipe back. I genuinely hate that tone of his sometimes.

"And?"

"Yeah, okay. Sure. I guess I really don't have any choice on the matter either." I point to my left.

The snowstorm is perfectly showcased on Mr. Cane's floor-to-ceiling glass pane wall. Gusts of strong wind and snow make it a pretty but deadly sight.

I take my phone out and send my mom a message, telling her I won't be going home tonight.

Mr. Cane sees me typing and checking on my phone for a reply.

"Need permission from someone?" He's back to looking at the puppy.

"Boyfriend?" He asked again when I hadn’t said anything yet. I'm taken aback by the personal question. He has never ever asked me anything like this before. The last he asked pertaining to anything about my life was about my asshole of a father.

"No, just my mom." God, why am I getting so awkward?

"I mean, no boyfriend," I add. Pretty sure the heat on my cheeks would melt the snow outside.

He stands with the puppy still snuggling on him. He takes a firestarter and lights up the massive fireplace. Carefully balancing the puppy on his arms while lighting up the wood. The puppy refuses to care about the extra movements, she seems to love the heat of the fire.

If she’s been left on the streets for so long, she must have been so cold out there.

"She's full." He presents me with the puppy's bulging stomach and I smile. Guess she's been so starved out in the streets and practically inhaled the pieces of meat.

My own stomach churns with the thought of food. I scratch my arm, not knowing how to ask for dinner. Should I just wait? But I'm so hungry. Lunch seemed such a long time ago.

"Here, you hold her for a while." He hands me the puppy. She doesn't want to part from him, I think she gave out a small whine. I rub her bloated tummy to calm her down.

Mr. Cane heads over to the massive kitchen on the right side of the penthouse. He opens cabinets and drawers. But more importantly, he takes out slabs of meat from the freezer.

Three packs of what I assume are high-priced beef. Is he going to cook? I think he's going to. Just the thought makes me salivate. Not just because of the food but a hot guy cooking for me?

Well, it's not for me. I'm just someone who's here while he's going to eat. His underling who he’s stuck with because of the awful weather. He literally has no choice.

He grabs a maroon apron and ties it around his waist. Hmm. He looks so good with that. I want to ask him so many things. Does he like to cook? What’s his favorite food? But I’m afraid he might snap at me.

His hot and cold temperament always keeps me on my toes. For all I know, he’s cooking for himself. Oh my god, should I find my own dinner? I think I still have a pack of biscuits in my bag.

He can't actually have dinner without giving me food, right? And he’s searing a lot of steaks, that can’t be just for him. The puppy must be sensing my anxiety since she peaked from her curled-up position on my lap. I go back to petting her.

The sound and smell of sizzling steak grab my attention. He's chopping up carrots with such precision and grace, it's like he's in his own world. This guy needs to be in a cooking show.

He pushes some buttons on the wall panel beside the refrigerator after adding some butter to the chopped vegetables.

I guess the button is for some music because a soft classical tune begins to play from the speakers mounted in his living room. I marvel at this new side of my cruel boss that I’m seeing.

He’s so relaxed, he’s not shouting at anyone and he seems to be in his element.

He begins to put shells of pasta in a boiling pot of water.

“Are you allergic to anything?” He points to the array of ingredients in front of him. That answers my earlier worries.

“No, I’m not.” Am I actually dreaming? Have I hit my head on the construction site and this is all a hallucination? Is he really inquiring about me?

“Alright, wouldn’t want to poison you. No ambulances can push through during this storm.”

Is that a lighthearted statement that just came out of his mouth? This is impossible. It must be all the fresh air he got from the Montana trip.

He continues to move around the kitchen island. I steal glances at him. I never would have thought that Mr. Cane was someone who could cook. I would have pegged him for the booze for lunch and food delivery-if-necessary type of guy.

His bachelor lifestyle makes it seem that he doesn’t care about anything else besides work. At the rate I’ve seen him down hard drinks at his office, I would have thought he had a drinking problem. He doesn’t look like the type to bother with recipes.

On the other hand, his lean but muscular physique might be a clue that he takes very good care of his body and that includes what he puts in it. Those bulging muscles need protein.

But this domestic side and the way he handled the puppy left me reconsidering my impression of the guy. I know my opinion doesn’t really matter, he’s my boss and if I want to receive those paychecks then I have to suck it up. Especially now that this storm most probably put more holes in our house.

I’d have to set aside more money for the repairs or just purchase material to cover the holes. That’s more urgent. We can cut back on food for a while.

I sigh, more soggy sandwiches for me in the foreseeable future. The financial situation just frustrates me to no end. Augustus keeps on depleting the little money we have and I’m sure it’s not just for alcohol this time. Instead of helping out, he’s causing more problems. He’s just a heavy burden for the family.

“Hey, come here,” My boss’ voice cuts through my inner monologue.

I pick up the puppy and we walk over to his side of the kitchen island. He grabs the bowl of buttered vegetables and points me over to the weird-looking dining table. He takes the steaming pot of pasta and drains it.

Taking the bowl and the puppy with me, I settle down in a chair. She looks up when she smells the buttery goodness but I shush her. That can’t be good for dogs. Note to self: research what dogs can and can’t eat.

With a big bowl of pasta in one hand and a plate of steak in the other, Mr. Cane settles the delicious food he made on top of the solid granite table. It’s cold to the touch and the puppy refrains from leaning on it.

“Eat.” He says. I don’t need to be asked twice. The next few minutes were a haze of deliciousness. I didn’t care if I looked like a savage. I pretty much inhaled everything, not unlike how the puppy had her first proper meal a while ago.

The similarities aren’t lost on me and lie back on the uncomfortable dining chair with a bulging tummy like the puppy on my lap has.

Mr. Cane sips on his wine as he judges me. I repeat: I do not care. My food-induced coma has started and the red velvet cake he put out as dessert is still lingering on my taste buds.

He picks up the dishes and puts them away in what I assume to be his dishwasher. I’ve always dreamt of having one of those. How convenient and easy life would be if you don’t need to handwash every single plate?

“Need any help, sir?” I cringe at my voice.

“No, it’s okay.” Looks like the food cheered him up as well. Maybe he just needs food every time he’s in his monster mood? The construction guys earlier should have supplied him with some donuts.

I’m so glad he’s past his bratty side even if it’s just for today. I nearly quit right then and there at the construction site. I don’t think I can stomach more people losing their jobs and getting shouted at. And I know he had his reasons, the foreman was really shitty. But I think there are other ways of solving issues.

There’s this side of me that just can’t accept the verbal abuse. It ignites a fire in me that I’m afraid I can’t keep in the longer I see his behavior. I don’t want to cause a scene, I’d rather not be fired for misconduct.

There are always two sides to me that are in conflict when I see his attitude. I think it comes from all the fucked up things I’ve experienced. That side that wants to stay quiet and meek so that nothing will happen further. But I can’t deny the other part of me that wants to fight back.

That Olivia bought a baseball bat and is ready to use it. That Olivia has so much rage and frustration inside that I cry because I can’t let it all out.

I’m afraid the more that I’m exposed to Mr. Cane’s awful personality, the more that I can’t control my emotions and I just might snap. This is a problem because I need this job. I need the income, experience, and credentials this job offers me.

To be honest, having worked in Cane Industries is such an impressive addition to one’s resume. I know it will help in building a successful career.

The other issue is that he’s just so damn attractive. It’s an enigma how his horrible attitude doesn’t at all eclipse how gorgeous he is. Actually, his horrendous actions add more mystery to him. It’s really maddening.

Maybe it’s all the food that he’s fed me?

Maybe I’m just fucked up because I’m attracted to my awful boss and no amount of horrid things he does every damn day can change it.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed. The puppy just peed on the leather couch. I watch in horror as the liquid drips down onto the floor.

Mr. Cane does not rush toward the living room in rage like what I would have expected from the man who would fire so many people in a snap of a finger.

Instead, he took large paper towels from the kitchen and crouched down in front of the puppy. He carefully sets the paper towels down on the pee so that he doesn’t touch it. It quickly absorbs the liquid. He takes a few more and wipes the couch.

Fearing that he might hurt the puppy, I try to grab her before he does. But I’m too late because he takes the puppy and instead of hurting her for peeing on his clearly expensive couch, he hands her over to me and wipes the couch with disinfectant.

I am gobsmacked.

“I think she needs a name. A box she can sleep in for tonight and maybe toys?” He looks up from his crouching position.

He continues to surprise me. I don’t know how to react to this doppelganger of my boss.

He’s completely a different person.

“Come little one, let’s set you up.” The puppy quickly jumps off my arms and scampers toward him. Its little limbs trying to keep up with his strides.

I close my open mouth and shake my head.

“Or maybe she can stay with me in bed?” Mr. Cane proceeds to shock me.

Perhaps with the puppy’s presence, he’s become more tolerable. Scratch that, he’s downright cute.

How can I survive this man?