Playroom {M.C}

Chapter 2

My heart was still pounding as the thought of Daryl Clifford's son kept occupying my mind. No man had ever affected me the way he did, and I cannot comprehend why. Was it because of his intimidating stare? Good looks? Power? Wealth? If I got the position, I wonder how I would be able to handle working beside him. 

I looked out of the restaurant's window, impatiently waiting for my friend Ashton as he rushes inside. He is running late because of his late hours at the office. He still is dressed in his all-black suit, navy blue shirt, and brown shoes. His long wavy curls brushed away from his face. I couldn't help to feel envious of how he still manages to appear beautiful after a long day. When he finally found me at the side of the restaurant, Ashton makes his way to the table and sits down, smiling.

"Hey. So how was the interview?"

I struggle to answer the question. What can I say?

"I'm glad that it's over," I confessed. I leaned my head against the palm of my hand. Ashton's eyebrows furrowed together, and he called over our waiter.

"Mel, I don't understand. Daryl Clifford is one of the nicest men around," Ashton responded. Oh, only if he knew the whole story. I squirmed around my seat, the thought of Michael running through my mind once more. Ashton directly stares at me, and I diverted my eyes away.

"I got interviewed by his son, Michael."

"His son? How was it?"

"Overwhelming. That man couldn't stop staring down at me as he kept asking big questions," I said. "He's very focus, intense, and young- very young for someone to inherit a company this big."

"He understands what he's doing," Ashton admitted. His eyes are filled with sympathy. I doubt that he ever had to be in a room with a man like Michael for an hour, asking questions that were either personal or part of the interview.

"I don't understand why he desires an assistant for then."

"Hmm, he is capable alone, but Michael is young, and Daryl needs to make certain that he doesn't go the wrong direction before bestowing his company to his only son," Ashton said. Seeing near, I can see the fear in Ashton's eyes. As if he wasn't so sure for Michael to run the company either, the idea of having his job in the palm of someone else hands. The waiter eventually arrived at our table to take our orders.

"Did he ever had an assistant before?" I asked when the waiter was long gone. My fingers are twisting my hair, another nervous habit of mine. Ashton's brown eyes connected with mine, and his lips curve down to a frown.

"He did—just one. A nice woman too."

"What happened to her?"

"I wouldn't know," Ashton replied. He didn't want to speak of it anymore, and I have to give up attempting to know more information. Maybe everyone was right about me that I was too curious. Sighing in defeat, I leaned back on my seat and waited for the waiter to appear with our food. My eyes scan the entire restaurant until I looked back at our table, observing the small details on it. The door of the restaurant opens, and the little bells rang. Then, for some reason, I glance up and connected eyes with a pair of familiar hazel-green eyes.

His plump lips then curve up in a smirk before he removed his unwavering gaze from me. What the hell is he doing here? He wasn't wearing his navy suit anymore. Only to be replaced with a grey sweater, skinny black jeans, and walking boots. His hair is tousled now. I was gawking at the sight of him, and I can't locate my brain or voice.

"Jesus, Mel, what has gotten over you," Ashton asks. His long fingers cup over his chin, and he stares at me with a curious expression. I couldn't find my voice as I continued to watch Michael talking to a waiter. His presence brings chills over my body. "Amelia?"