Chapter 3 : Survival of the Fittest

*Trinity's POV*

The sweat was already dripping down my back as I rode that damn elevator to the recording studio. I had run from my car back into the building and was paying the price for it now.

The traffic was awful, and I was gone for exactly thirty minutes at that moment, which meant that I was officially late either way.

My breathing was erratic, and I tried to keep the coffee cup from shaking in my hand as I held it. No such luck.

The slow door slid open again, and it was even harder to keep my hand still as I saw Mr. Withers standing at Amber's desk with his back turned to me. Even with his face away from me, I could tell from his body language that he was not happy.

"Where is she, Amber?" I heard his irritated tone. "She's late."

Amber simply shrugged in response.

He must not have heard the elevator door. I stepped out, and the door shut behind me, this time grabbing his attention. His brows furrowed as he looked at me, and my stomach dropped.

I walked up to him quickly and held out the coffee to him. He looked down at it in disgust, not moving to pick it up.

"I apologize, Mr. Withers. Traffic was horrendous, and the line at the shop took forever," I stated hurriedly, still holding out the cup for him.

"Where's my food?" he asked bluntly.

Shit.

I felt my cheeks flush as I realized that I had left it sitting on the counter at the cafe in my rush. I had set it down to grab a coffee sleeve because the cup was so hot to the touch, and just happened to forget to pick it back up.

This was not a good first impression.

"I apologize. I–uh–I…" I began to stammer out, but he quickly cut me off.

"Forget it. I don't need it anymore."

Even without knowing him that well, I could tell he was pissed. His jaw was clenched together. He began to turn and walk away again before he changed his mind and turned back to face me.

"I am giving you a formal warning, Ms. Assistant. Don't let it happen again." And with that, he was gone.

I should have been upset at the fact that I was given a warning, but I was more upset with the fact that he hadn't remembered my name.

Not a good sign.

I sighed and set the coffee cup down on Amber's desk. Amber looked at me sympathetically but did not offer to help me in any way. And I was somewhat grateful. I didn't want her help. I needed to learn to do this alone, or I would never survive.

The next few days passed by in a blur. While I didn't make the mistake of breakfast again, my days were still filled with minor errors.

On Tuesday, I sat at the desk given to me right across from Amber's a few hours into the workday when my phone rang. I hesitated but then answered.

"Took long enough. Come to my office," Mr. Withers' voice came over my phone before hanging up. There was no room for questions. So, I stood up quickly and walked into his office.

"Yes?" I asked as I cracked his door open and peeked my head inside.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" he asked without bothering to hide his annoyance.

I walked inside and shut the door, then walked over and sat across from him. Before I could ask what I did wrong, he spoke up. This man did not like to waste time.

"Did Mr. MacCovy call earlier and leave a message for me?" Mr. Withers asked.

"Yes," I said with a nod, at least feeling confident I knew what he was talking about.

"And you didn't think it important to give me said message?" His eyes flashed as he looked at me, and I felt my chest constrict.

I felt like a scolded child.

"Um, you were in a meeting when he called, and you said not to bother you," I tried to explain, twisting my hands in my lap. I felt the baby kick in my stomach as if they could also feel my anxiousness. "But I wrote it down for you; I can get it if you want."

"Does it look like I have time for that now?" He rolled his eyes. "It's already an issue now. Mr. MacCovy is our new client, and his happiness is important to us. So if he ever calls, I need you to transfer it to me immediately. Understood?"

I nodded in agreement, not trusting my voice. Mr. Withers looked down at his desk and said nothing as I continued to sit there. After a moment, he looked at me as if I were stupid.

"You can leave now," he scoffed.

I stood up and left the office as fast as possible before I could get another warning.

By the time Wednesday rolled around, I was starting to get more comfortable with my desk and my computer, along with the scheduling systems that the company used. It was always easy for me to pick up on the technological side of business. Once you learned one format, they were almost all the same.

"Assistant," Mr. Withers said as he approached my desk.

Learning how to deal with every boss was sadly not as easily done.

"Yes, Mr. Withers?" I asked, trying to ignore that he still refused to use my name.

"Why do I see a scheduled lunch on my calendar?" he asked as he stared down at me.

Gosh, I was starting to hate that cold smirk that seemed to constantly be on his face.

"It's lunch with your parents," I explained.

"I can read." His eyes sparked as per usual. "My question is, why is it there in the first place?"

"Oh," my cheeks warmed. I had done something wrong again, I guess. "Your father called and said that you were planning to go to lunch with him today and told me to put it in your calendar so you wouldn't forget."

Mr. Withers let out an impressive sigh that almost reminded me of a bull snorting through its nose. He looked as angry as a bull as well.

"In the future, do not add things to my calendar unless I approve them." He began to walk away. "Now, take it off and call my father back to tell him I won’t make it."

He didn't even wait for a response from me.

Why was he so angry about a lunch appointment with his father? If it were me, I would love that. Not my choice, I guess. I looked through the history on my phone, found his father’s number, and called it back.

He answered on the second ring.

"What?" the elder Withers answered rather rudely. His tone took me aback, and I gritted my teeth to prevent myself from uttering a rather horrid yet justified response.

"Oh, uhm, sorry to interrupt, sir. But Mr. Withers told me to call and tell you he can’t make lunch today. He had some work come up and—”

The elder Withers snorted, the same sound Mr. Withers had just made himself, cutting me off. I “Figures,” he replied. And then he hung up before I could say another word.

Man, maybe impatience and rudeness was a family trait.

I returned to work and focused on not getting scolded anymore.

I only got to work on Thursday when Amber gave me a sympathetic look.

"He's already asking for you," Amber noted. "He wants you in his office now."

I grabbed the coffee and breakfast, knowing I had at least gotten that part right, and walked into the office. When I walked in, Mr. Withers was facing the windows instead of me, so I went up to his desk and placed his stuff down before I spoke.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked.

"Take a look at my computer screen," he said, turning towards me. He already sounded annoyed.

Since I was already standing by his desk, all I had to do was look down. All he had open was his schedule. I looked back up at him, but when he continued to stare at me. I glanced back down for a second take and then let out a small gasp as I noticed my mistake.

"Could you read what I have going on today at 10 am?" he pressed. He was going to make me admit my mistake out loud.

"Um…" I knew I was caught. But it was my mistake, and I needed to own up to it. "At 10 am, it says that you have a meeting with the company board."

"And?"

Damn, I wanted to punch him in the face sometimes.

"And you have a dental cleaning at the dentist downtown…" I said, surprising even myself at how calm my voice was.

I could feel the heat spreading up my face, though. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was embarrassed. This was something that I should have caught. There was no excuse in this instance.

"And how do you suggest that I be in two places at once?" Mr. Withers asked, walking up to the desk and standing across from me. I tried to keep eye contact.

"I apologize. I will call the dental office and move your appointment to another time," I told him. "And this won't happen again. I will double-check all of your schedules before making plans."

Mr. Withers looked taken aback momentarily as if he didn't expect me to take ownership so readily. His body seemed to relax before me, and he sat in his chair, turning his attention away from me.

"Good." He started to type. "That is all."

I turned to leave in a hurry and ended up knocking over his coffee and flinging it into his lap.

"DAMN IT!" he yelled as the hot coffee seeped into his shirt.

I grabbed the coffee cup and grabbed one of the napkins, and pressed it to his chest, attempting to dab up as much of the liquid as I could.

"Just get out before you do any more damage," he said as he stood up and shed his jacket.

Not needing to be told twice, I hurried out of the room and tried to calm down my beating heart. When it seemed like we were starting to do better, I had to go and ruin it again. I sat back down at my desk, trying to forget how hard his chest had felt under my hands…

Finally, it was Friday. I was just getting ready to leave for the night when Mr. Withers left his office and walked up to me. He was holding a diet soda and seemed irritated with me already.

What else was new?

I held back the urge to roll my eyes and continued to swing my purse over my shoulder. I pressed the elevator button while waiting for his lecture. That should give it plenty of time.

"What is this?" he asked, stopping before me.

"That's the soda I picked up for you earlier. I told you I had put it in the fridge for you." I explained, debating if I was getting paid enough to stand here and argue with a grown man about a soda.

But I had no other options. My hand fell naturally against the curve of my stomach.

"I asked for a regular soda, not a diet," he snipped.

"They were out of the regular kind downstairs. The front clerk said the delivery truck hadn’t come yet." I told him.

"What did I tell you about excuses?" he asked slowly. "I don't care to hear them. If they are out downstairs, then look somewhere else. It's not that difficult."

I bit my tongue. "I understand."

"Don't let it happen again, Assistant," he said and began to turn away, but this time I couldn't bite my tongue down quite hard enough.

"My name's Trinity," I said clearly and then turned to step into the elevator that had finally arrived.

When I turned around to hit the button for the base floor, I saw that he had stopped and was looking at me. However, instead of irritation, it seemed to be a look of consideration. He quickly turned when he saw me looking at him and headed to his office.

I sighed and leaned against the elevator's back wall as the door shut, and it began to move. I looked at my reflection again and saw my flushed cheeks. The more irritated I got with this man, the harder it would be for me to hold back.

How was I ever going to survive?