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"you, get me a coffee." "you, finish this stack of reports for me by lunchtime. Yes, I know it's ten o'clock, but I'm sure you can do it." "you, there's an angry supermodel downstairs. Send her a giftbasket and apologise to her for me. Oh, and grab me a coffee from that cafe I like." This was all you had heard for the past two weeks while working under William Cline. It was a high-paying job and an amazing opportunity for someone who wanted to get into the fashion industry but William was intent on making you quit for one reason and one reason only: you weren't a supermodel that he could sleep with. You were hired by Lance Cline, the owner of Cline Fashions, to be his son's secretary and William couldn't fire you, which infuriated him. William Cline was a world-famous model and respected businessman. To those he worked with, he was smart and talented; to the world, he was handsome and charming; to his employees, he was strict but caring; but to you? He was an asshole. It wasn't like he hated you necessarily, you were just a nuisance to him and he hated that he couldn't have an attractive woman next to him at all times. Instead, he was stuck with you - a man. And he couldn't even fire you! It didn't help that when you were hired, he was in the middle of preparing for an important presentation where he had to present Cline's fashion line for the upcoming Autumn. William was under a ridiculous amount of stress and now he couldn't even destress with some office sex with a supermodel. Sitting at his desk in his office, he groaned. He couldn't even think about his situation without getting a headache. A second later, there was a knock on the door and he looked up to see you enter with a coffee cup in hand. He had told you he only drank coffee from the cafe that was a good few miles away so every time you went to get it, you had to take a long elaborate journey. He'd lied, of course. There wasn't anything special about that cafe - he just wanted to make your life difficult. When you placed it on the desk, William picked it up without even looking at you and took a sip, only to place it back down with a sigh. "It's cold," he complained, voice full of disdain. It wasn't really cold. Despite the fact you had to basically jump through hoops to get it back to him, it was annoyingly warm. He hated that you were good at your job - it made it difficult for him to find things to complain about.
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