I suppose there is something to be said for her persistence.
Natalia had just hung up the with the kitchen manager. She had given him a list of the ingredients that she would be needing and told him to put them aside for her in fifteen minutes. This was not an unusual request. The kitchen staff were quite used to seeing their employer working quietly alongside them. It had recently become a more frequent occurrence. She would sometimes engage them in friendly conversations, asking them about their lives and families while she created her culinary delights. Lately though, she had preferred to be left alone – always deep in thought – as she poured herself intently into her processes.
She grabbed a memo pad from her drawer, ripped one off, wrote on it and propped it against the back of her name-plate.
She grabbed her purse and headed out of the office.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Olivia sat in her suite, pushing papers around in front of her on the small table by the window. To anyone else it would look as though she were actually doing work, but in fact she was staring at the sheets as if she had forgotten how to read. She had read the same sentence five times. The last paragraph forgotten already. She threw it down on the table and stared out the window. She rapidly tapped her pen against her bottom lip and glanced down at her watch.
11:34 a.m.
God! What is your deal, Spencer?
Olivia Spencer did not get excited about lunch-dates. She got excited about being able to turn them down. She had no idea why she should even be anticipating this next one at all. It was no doubt going to end in the same confounded way as the rest of their few previous encounters.
I don't get exited about lunch, period!
She didn't know of any females in her circle that she would consider just having lunch with for the sake of unproductive chit-chat. Other women were not 'friends'; other women were 'competition'. Competitors whom she played nice with in public just to get close to their husbands.
I'm dreading this actually, she said to herself, even as she checked her watch once again.
11:37 a.m.
"Damn you, Self-Control!"
She grabbed her purse and headed out of the suite.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"I have an appointment with her this time..." she glanced down at the woman's desk, "Sheila, so don't even give me that look."
Sheila wasn't about to say a thing to Olivia regardless. Not after Olivia had all but pronounced herself as More Powerful Than The Almighty God earlier this morning. Instead, Sheila simply rolled her eyes as the older hotelier strode confidently past her.
"I saw that."
When she got to Natalia's office door she noticed that it was opened slightly. She knocked once and gave it a nudge.
"Natalia?" She poked her head through the door. "Huh, not here yet," she flopped down into one of the chairs in front of the desk and glanced at her watch.
11:45 a.m.
Okay, in all fairness, I am early.
She looked around the office and made a couple of passes in order to try and find something with which she could occupy her mind. Other than a couple of pieces of expensive art hanging on the walls, there wasn't much to look at. Her eyes returned to the desk in front of her.
You know, I've always believed that you can learn a lot about another person by how they keep their desk. Her smile was mischievous.
She fidgeted with the hem of her blouse and bit her bottom lip. Her foot began tapping uncontrollably. She turned her head toward the door and leaned the chair backwards slightly to be able to see if Sheila was paying any attention. Sheila couldn't care less, and Olivia knew it. She rested the chair back on all four legs. She quickly grabbed a crystal plaque from the desk and examined the inspirational speech engraved upon it in one last-ditch effort to hold back the growing temptation.
Who the fuck am I kidding? She replaced the plaque to the desk, got up quickly, and made her way around to the other side. She carefully slid open one of the top drawers, looking up at the door as she did so, and when she looked back down she saw exactly what she had expected to see. Immaculate and organized. It almost looked as though everything within it had been crazy-glued down in a perfectly symmetrical arrangement, like it was an actual drawer that was displayed in one of those office furniture catalogues.
"Impressive. And a little bit frightening."
She moved to Natalia's chair and slowly eased herself into it. She leaned back and folded her hands behind her head.
"Oh, you are a wicked woman, Olivia Spencer," she grinned.
And that is when she noticed the little memo card that had been placed strategically against the back of Natalia's name-plate. She picked it up and read it.
I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the urge to stick your hand in my drawers. Now, get your ass out of MY chair and meet me in the kitchen.
Natalia had just hung up the with the kitchen manager. She had given him a list of the ingredients that she would be needing and told him to put them aside for her in fifteen minutes. This was not an unusual request. The kitchen staff were quite used to seeing their employer working quietly alongside them. It had recently become a more frequent occurrence. She would sometimes engage them in friendly conversations, asking them about their lives and families while she created her culinary delights. Lately though, she had preferred to be left alone – always deep in thought – as she poured herself intently into her processes.
She grabbed a memo pad from her drawer, ripped one off, wrote on it and propped it against the back of her name-plate.
She grabbed her purse and headed out of the office.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Olivia sat in her suite, pushing papers around in front of her on the small table by the window. To anyone else it would look as though she were actually doing work, but in fact she was staring at the sheets as if she had forgotten how to read. She had read the same sentence five times. The last paragraph forgotten already. She threw it down on the table and stared out the window. She rapidly tapped her pen against her bottom lip and glanced down at her watch.
11:34 a.m.
God! What is your deal, Spencer?
Olivia Spencer did not get excited about lunch-dates. She got excited about being able to turn them down. She had no idea why she should even be anticipating this next one at all. It was no doubt going to end in the same confounded way as the rest of their few previous encounters.
I don't get exited about lunch, period!
She didn't know of any females in her circle that she would consider just having lunch with for the sake of unproductive chit-chat. Other women were not 'friends'; other women were 'competition'. Competitors whom she played nice with in public just to get close to their husbands.
I'm dreading this actually, she said to herself, even as she checked her watch once again.
11:37 a.m.
"Damn you, Self-Control!"
She grabbed her purse and headed out of the suite.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"I have an appointment with her this time..." she glanced down at the woman's desk, "Sheila, so don't even give me that look."
Sheila wasn't about to say a thing to Olivia regardless. Not after Olivia had all but pronounced herself as More Powerful Than The Almighty God earlier this morning. Instead, Sheila simply rolled her eyes as the older hotelier strode confidently past her.
"I saw that."
When she got to Natalia's office door she noticed that it was opened slightly. She knocked once and gave it a nudge.
"Natalia?" She poked her head through the door. "Huh, not here yet," she flopped down into one of the chairs in front of the desk and glanced at her watch.
11:45 a.m.
Okay, in all fairness, I am early.
She looked around the office and made a couple of passes in order to try and find something with which she could occupy her mind. Other than a couple of pieces of expensive art hanging on the walls, there wasn't much to look at. Her eyes returned to the desk in front of her.
You know, I've always believed that you can learn a lot about another person by how they keep their desk. Her smile was mischievous.
She fidgeted with the hem of her blouse and bit her bottom lip. Her foot began tapping uncontrollably. She turned her head toward the door and leaned the chair backwards slightly to be able to see if Sheila was paying any attention. Sheila couldn't care less, and Olivia knew it. She rested the chair back on all four legs. She quickly grabbed a crystal plaque from the desk and examined the inspirational speech engraved upon it in one last-ditch effort to hold back the growing temptation.
Who the fuck am I kidding? She replaced the plaque to the desk, got up quickly, and made her way around to the other side. She carefully slid open one of the top drawers, looking up at the door as she did so, and when she looked back down she saw exactly what she had expected to see. Immaculate and organized. It almost looked as though everything within it had been crazy-glued down in a perfectly symmetrical arrangement, like it was an actual drawer that was displayed in one of those office furniture catalogues.
"Impressive. And a little bit frightening."
She moved to Natalia's chair and slowly eased herself into it. She leaned back and folded her hands behind her head.
"Oh, you are a wicked woman, Olivia Spencer," she grinned.
And that is when she noticed the little memo card that had been placed strategically against the back of Natalia's name-plate. She picked it up and read it.
I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the urge to stick your hand in my drawers. Now, get your ass out of MY chair and meet me in the kitchen.
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