One Look At You (5 page)

I sit at my desk and wait for John to get back. Minutes tick away until he finally walks in my direction.

“Good morning, Liv. Had a good weekend, I hope?” he says, oblivious to my nervousness, though I notice him looking speculatively at my glasses and ponytail.

“Yes, I had a pleasant weekend with friends; how about you and Ana?” I normally would be interested in his response but, right now, all I want to do is ask him about the man in the conference room.

“Friends from New York were in town and had a barbecue. Nothing fancy.”

“Who were you with in the conference room?” I blurt out the question that’s been on my mind since I spotted him.

“Oh, did you see us?” he asks redundantly. I nod, not trusting myself to display my fear.

“The big kahuna himself.” I can’t help but glare at him because I don’t understand what he’s talking about.

“Our new CFO.”

“Wh-what?” My nerves are tingling and I have an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. Is fate playing some really cruel trick on me? I may be too young to have a heart attack, but my pulse is racing right now.

“Antonio Oliveira Avery. I got a call from him at seven in the morning, requesting an early meeting at the office. He just wanted to go over some of our reports again before he starts calling people and making heads roll.”

I say nothing. My mind is a blank.

“C’mon, Liv. I was just joking. He says he arrived Friday last week from London and is still feeling a bit sluggish. Apparently, our reports, I mean your reports, were quite enlightening. He read all of them this weekend. He seemed very pleased with them…” John is going on and on about their discussion this morning, but I’m not even listening. I’m half waiting, hoping, for John to say he’s playing another one of his pranks on me. Of course, he doesn’t.

“Are you ill?” John finally asks, sensing my inattention.

“No, I…” I’m thinking of what to say, and John stands in front of me with a frown on his face.

“I felt a bit off this morning when I woke up. Plus, the drive here was pretty bad.”

“Do you want to take the rest of the day off?”

“Thank you, but I’ll be okay,” I don’t want to bail out on him today. I know it’s going to be a madhouse for the next couple of days.

“Why don’t you have some coffee and a croissant, and take it easy for a while? I think there’s going to be a general meeting of the managers with their assistants later. Just a meet and greet the new boss kind of thing. But…” he pauses briefly.

“But?” I prod him.

“I kinda wanted to break the news to you gently, though now that I think about it, it’s a big step for you, so it probably is a good thing.”

“What are you talking about, John?”

“Tony, that’s what he likes to be called, asked if he could have you on loan as his assistant, until HR assigns one to him.”

“No!”

I must have shouted it out strongly because he looks strangely at me.

“I’ll miss you, too, Liv. But I can’t refuse. He did say it’s just for a couple of weeks.”

“What about Rose?” I’m referring to Mr. Donaldson’s assistant.

“She’s following him to the new place.”

“But I don’t have seniority among the assistants.”

“When I told him the reports were generated mainly through your efforts, right there and then he asked to have you reassigned temporarily. It’s inconvenient for me, but I can’t say no to the guy.” John is such a wonderful man to work for. He always makes sure to give me credit for my work. But, this time, I really wish that he hadn’t.

“Can’t you persuade Bill to lend Grace instead? She’s very good with data, as well.”

“Give it a rest, Liv. This is actually a step up for you, even if it’s just temporary. Think of how great it will look on your resume – Assistant to the Chief Financial Officer.”

“I can’t, John,” I tell him adamantly.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I just can’t.”

“Livie, I’ve never had a problem with your professionalism before. What’s going on?” He looks unmistakably ticked off and I can’t blame him. He’s right. There’s no way around this.
You brought this upon yourself, Liv
.

“I’m just worried that I won’t be able to meet his demands,” I lie in an effort to appease him.

“Nonsense. You’ll do very well,” he says with some relief. “You’ll be back here in two weeks anyway.” I nod in acknowledgement.
Two weeks?
It will probably feel more like two years, but I say nothing further.

The email said 2 PM sharp. I carefully go to the left corner of the room where the coffee machine and pastries are, as far away as possible from the entrance of the conference room, where I assume he’ll be standing to meet and greet the staff. I know this makes no sense since I’ll be working closely with him over the next two weeks, but I want to prolong the time before I meet my doom. And I certainly don’t want anyone to witness my humiliation if he remembers me and reveals something inadvertently.

The room is now almost full and he strides in, looking confident and authoritative in his well-tailored suit. I can literally feel the excitement build up inside the tightly-packed room. Mr. Donaldson clears his throat and prepares to introduce his successor.

“I’m not one for long speeches, so I’ll make this short and sweet. We’ve had a great run these past ten years. You all made my work easier and more fun, and now it’s time to move on. I feel great about leaving because this good-looking, brilliant man beside me is going to take the company to the next level. Ladies and gentlemen, Antonio Oliveira Avery.” Everyone claps their hands until he moves forward and motions for us to stop the applause.

“I just want to thank everyone for all their hard work in preparing the reports I requested.” His voice is deep and his accent is an odd mix of British and something else. “I am privileged to be working with an excellent financial team. Thank you, John, Wyatt, Bill, Margaret, Dan.” He mentions the managers’ names so easily, like he’s worked with them for years, and they’re all preening. I look over at John and he’s grinning from ear to ear. Even my boss is not immune to this man’s charm. “Well, I’m going to take Ralph’s cue and leave it at that. I’m sure we’ll all have more productive talks later.”

He starts moving around the room to introduce himself to each person. He has everyone eating out of his hand, especially the ladies. Slowly, they move towards the exit, leaving the few of us who haven’t had a chance to speak to him. Even John has deserted the room. As he makes his way towards the five or six of us at the back, my heart beats faster. I want to run away, but I know that I have to stay and see this through.

“And you are?” I suddenly become aware of him standing in front of me. I wait for him to say something more but he just waits for a response. I dare to look up at him, but I don’t see a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“Uhm, Olivia. Olivia Harris.” My voice is soft, a bit raspy.

“I trust John has told you about my request?” he asks in a clipped tone.

“I’m sorry?”

He frowns momentarily and then I realize what he’s talking about. “Oh, yes, he has. Uhm, when do you want me to start?” I almost whisper the question.

“Tomorrow, if you would, please,” he says curtly. I silently nod my head and I see him shaking the hand of Liz beside me. I walk quickly out of the room to where I can finally breathe normally again.

Why was he so abrupt with me, like I irked him in some way? I’m glad he doesn’t seem to remember me, but I still have this agonizing feeling that, for the coming weeks, I have to be in close quarters with him every day. And he doesn’t seem to be a very genial boss, even though everyone is enthralled by his looks and ‘sparkling’ personality. I just have to be very careful he never finds out. Either that, or just start looking for another job.

“That’s wonderful news!” I’m on the phone with Mom and her reaction makes it sound like I’ve been promoted to manager or something. I wanted to cheer her up and I made the mistake of telling her, and now she’s all excited at the prospect.

“Not really, Mom. I’m just on loan for the next two weeks.”

“Believe me, he’s going to be very impressed with your work. John will have to find someone else to take your place.” My mother – the ultimate cheerleader. If she only knew what transpired at that party.
Wait… I don’t even know myself.

“Calm down, Mom. I haven’t even started yet.”

“Well, it’s a step up for you, so I hope it does happen. By the way, will I see you this weekend?” I do my best to have lunch with my mom on the weekends that I’m free, since that fateful weekend, I’ve not been to see her.

“Yes, I’ll be there on Sunday. Will you please make pot roast?” That’s my comfort food, and nobody makes it as well as she does.

“Are you sure that’s what you want me to cook?” She seems anxious, like she’s wondering about my request, so I hurriedly reassure her.

“Yup. I haven’t had that in months. I’ve had a craving for it since last week.”

“Anything else you want?”

“Well, if you can make my favorite flan – that would be perfect.”

I can almost hear her smile over the phone. “Sure, Honey. I’ll have everything ready when you come.”

“Can’t wait. Bye, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, Baby. Stay safe.”
Stay safe. If she only knew.
Guilt eats at me for the way I behaved that night. I realize that he doesn’t seem to be the kind of guy who would take advantage of a woman – I mean, he’s good-looking, intelligent, and successful – so I’m tortured at the thought that I must have acted improperly and led him on. How else could I have landed in his hotel suite?
Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!
I grab the book from my nightstand and start reading to distract myself from my unrelenting self-recrimination.

Minutes pass and I put down the book without having read a single word. I go to my small desk at the corner and turn on my laptop. I type in his name and go through the search results. Antonio Oliveira Avery. He was Chief Executive Officer of 3 Brothers Food Group in the U.K. Before that, he was Vice President for Operations at Goldman Sachs in London.

His father is Baron Jonathan Avery, a British entrepreneur and life peer. His mother is a famous Brazilian actress, Ava Oliveira. His parents divorced at the age of six and he lived with his mother in South America until he went back to Great Britain to study law at Trinity College, Cambridge. His father’s half-sister was Martine Walker Gallo, the late wife of Maximo Gallo, founder and CEO of Gallo’s.

Now it all makes sense, how they managed to keep everything hush-hush. He comes from the reclusive and wealthy family of the late Mrs. Gallo. A long time ago, I heard a rumor that Mr. Gallo was considering retiring and wanted a family member to take over. Since he had no children, people assumed it would be one of his brothers or a cousin on his father’s side. Can it be that he’s grooming Antonio Avery for the position?

What about his personal life? On the tenth page of search engine results, I read that he married Brazilian fashion model Izabel Barros two years ago. Oh my God, he’s married?!
Breathe, Livie. Breathe
. I search for everything to do with his wife. Of course, she’s stunningly beautiful and there are hundreds of her images all over the web. I narrow my search to their marriage, but find very little. They were married in a very private wedding on an island owned by his father. There are no known photographs. Apparently, she had an affair with singer Roberto Veloso. Six months ago, they agreed to a separation.

The rich and beautiful have the same problems as the rest of us. Of course, I didn’t know that he was… is… married, but now I feel even more guilty for acting the way I did.

“Olivia, I like to start the day early, so I hope you can adjust your schedule accordingly,” he says while continuing to read the document on his desk. It’s a request that sounds like a command.

“Certainly, Mr. Avery.” I respond formally.

“It’s Tony,” he says tersely. He looks up from the papers he’s been sorting through. “Is there a problem?” Again, his question sounds like he’s telling me there better not be a problem.

“None whatsoever,” I try to match his haughty tone.

“I sent you an email of everything you need to research for this entire week. Taking into account how fast you work and the load I’m dropping onto your lap, I’d say you have to work till nine or ten every day. I have to impress upon you the urgency with which I need to get these particular reports done. If you have obligations that will get in the way, please tell me now.” He’s brusque to the point of rudeness. I want to say I can’t handle the load so he’ll call in someone else, but my work ethic stubbornly resists being labeled a slacker.

“It won’t be a problem.” He looks skeptical, and I know I’ll take a perverse sense of pleasure in trying to prove him wrong.

“All right then,” he casually dismisses me. I immediately go to his assistant’s desk and start accessing my email. I purposefully wait on the email from His Royal Highness. He’s a pompous ass, so I feel justified in my little act of rebellion.

There’s a short email from John, saying hi. I smile at how he ended his message with a sad face. Kayla wants a copy of the short-term suppliers for Dan Snyder, Head of Administration. I go through twenty other emails from suppliers and other corporate staff. After half an hour, I run out of messages to respond to, so I click on the most important email in my inbox.

Holy crap!
It’s the email to end all emails. Two entire pages of detailed instructions. Either the man’s afraid to delegate (which I really doubt) or he doesn’t trust my ability to do things right (of course it’s that). I feel like an office Cinderella with the long list of do-this, do-that. It’s my job and I get paid well, I know, but my so-called history with him makes me belligerent. I blame him and the damned alcohol for making me behave out-of-character. And now, I’m blaming him as well for coming into this company and making me nervous, from the fear of being caught.

I get moving. I fire off a number of emails, requesting information from the different departments. I get into the archives and start looking at the data and organizing what I need. I’m quite happy to be left to my own devices.