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stay away from Mr. Hawthorne. I can’t accept any of this right now and I have nothing to offer anyone.

CHAPTER 4
    Homecoming
    I t’s Monday morning and I’m dreading going into the office. Things are going to be very awkward. What did the dance with Blade mean? Did it mean anything? It meant nothing! He was just being nice by trying to teach your clumsy ass how to dance! Now get your shit together, my inner witch screams at me. She’s right and this eases my anxiety. It meant nothing and I’m being silly. Damien Blade Hawthorne, billionaire and god, could have any woman he wants. Why the hell would he choose me? He wouldn’t.
    I arrive at the office and begin preparing for the day. Mr. Hawthorne comes in a few minutes later so I go to make his coffee. The usual, as Caroline instructed me in the beginning, Kopi Luwak coffee with two creamers and two sugars. I take a deep breath before opening his door. He is on the phone, thank God . I place his cup in the usual spot and turn to leave. I hear him ask whoever is on the other end to hold a moment. Damn it!! I had almost cleared the door without having to interact with him!! “Sheridan, I’ll be having lunch in the office today. Have my usual here by noon,” he demands rather coldly.
    “Yes, sir,” I respond and quickly turn to leave the office. Shew, what the hell is his problem? I return to my desk, still a bit unnerved by his coldness but almost glad for it at the same time. I call the restaurant, order his usual and instruct them that it must be here at precisely noon.
    The next few hours pass quickly. I’ve been covered up filling in his agenda for the next month and proof-reading contracts before they go on to legal affairs. The lunch order arrives at twelve on the dot. I tip the delivery boy out of petty cash and head to Mr. Hawthorne’s office. When I enter, he is on the phone again. I place his lunch on the meeting table and retreat back to my desk.
    About ten minutes later, he buzzes me and asks me to come into his office. My nerves shoot off the Richter scale. I enter and he’s sitting at the table, with his lunch in front of him. How can he intimidate me so easily? “Sheridan, this sandwich has mayonnaise on it. I don’t eat mayonnaise on this particular sandwich,” he informs me, with an almost disgusted frown.
    “Hmm, I’m sorry. That’s my fault. It was my misunderstanding,” I apologize. I offer a solution, “I can call the restaurant or go there myself and get you another one that is to your liking.”
    He frowns deeper, “No. I don’t have time for that shit. Get it right next time.”
    “Yes sir. Again, I apologize.”
    He raises his hand and waves it in the air as if to banish me from his office. Once out the door, I feel my temperature rising. Who pissed in his Cheerios, quips my inner witch. I ignore her and go back to work, trying to dismiss the whole scene.
    The next morning when Mr. Hawthorne arrives, I follow the usual routine with his coffee. I enter his office and he is immersed in his paperwork. I place his cup on the usual spot. Just as I get to the door, I hear his stern voice, “Sheridan, this coffee is too damn sweet. Did you use the whole friggin’ box of sugar?”
    I turn to him, with anger raging in me, but I hold my tongue. “No sir. I made it just like I always do,” I try to explain.
    “It’s not like it always is. Fix it,” he commands.
    I exit with my blood boiling and proceed to make another cup of coffee with only one sugar packet this time. I briskly return to his office and hand him the cup. I stand with my arms crossed, waiting for his verdict. He takes a sip, places the cup on the desk and again gives the banishing wave, “It will do.” I bound from the office so pissed I could scream. I check his agenda and thank goodness he is out of the office for lunch today. Lord knows the little prima donna couldn’t handle another food debacle today. What the hell crawled up his ass and died? You gonna let