|AC ORGANIZATIONS|

~BRIANNA’S OFFICE~

BRIANNA

My head was on my desk, taking a nap since there was nothing else to do when the buzzing sound of the intercom pierced through my sleep. Why is he calling me now? Just when I started enjoying my nap. I picked up the intercom and placed it to my ear.

“Good day, boss,” I greeted gruffly. I hadn’t seen him since I arrived at work this morning, and this was the first time he’d called me today.

“Good day, Brianna. Why does your voice sound like that? Were you sleeping?” he asked. I didn’t respond because, honestly, it was a bit embarrassing.

“That aside, I need you to come to my office. If you remember, we have a meeting with Mr. Sergio at *Dine with Diana* by 2:00 p.m., and it’s already 1:30. We need to leave soon. Make sure to take the necessary documents with you,” he added in a calm tone. I was a little surprised by his tone. When did he start talking to me like this? I should be the one reminding him about the meeting, not the other way around. How ironic.

“Sir, are you okay?” I asked, unsure.

“Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” he replied.

“Nothing, sir. I just wanted to check,” I said, quickly hanging up before he could say anything more.

I stretched my limbs and grabbed my handbag from the side of my desk. After placing my phone, notepad, pen, and a few other things inside, I zipped it up and walked out of my office. When I reached Mr. Adrian’s office, I knocked on the door.

“Come in, Brianna,” he called out in his sonorous voice. I walked in to find him already standing, ready to go.

“How did you know it was me knocking?” I asked.

“Because I know how you knock. Who else would be knocking on my door right now?” he replied with a raised brow.

“Seriously?” I chuckled, finding his response amusing.

“Whatever,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Did you get everything we need for the meeting?” he asked.

“Yes, I did,” I responded.

“Then we’re good to go.” He motioned for me to follow him as we left his office, him walking behind me. I could have sworn I felt his eyes on my behind, but I dismissed the thought. Why would he be staring at my ass when there are plenty of women around him with bigger ones?

We reached the parking lot, where Mr. Adrian led me to his car. He peered through the tinted window before knocking on it aggressively. The window rolled down, revealing his driver, who looked like he’d just woken up. His eyes widened when he saw Mr. Adrian.

“Ah, Mr. Adrian! I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting, sir. I didn’t realize when I dozed off,” the driver explained, though we hadn’t been waiting that long.

“It’s fine, Brandon. Unlock the car. We’re leaving,” Mr. Adrian said gently. The driver looked at him in surprise, and I followed suit.

“Sir, you’re not mad at me for making you wait? I thought you’d yell at me or something,” the driver asked, clearly puzzled. I couldn’t help but giggle quietly. Seems like I wasn’t the only one noticing his strange behavior today.

“Why should I be angry? Everyone gets tired and deserves to rest. Now unlock the doors so we can get going. We’re running late,” Mr. Adrian said, his impatience showing. Brandon quickly unlocked the doors.

Mr. Adrian opened the backseat door and got inside. I was about to get into the passenger seat when Mr. Adrian called me back.

“Where do you think you’re going, Brianna?” he asked.

“I’m going to the passenger seat, of course,” I replied.

“The passenger seat?” He scoffed. “Come back here and sit beside me,” he ordered. I grumbled but stomped to the backseat and sat with a sour face, arms crossed.

“Alright, start the car, Brandon. We’re running out of time,” Mr. Adrian said. The car started, and Brandon drove us out of the parking lot.

Once we were on the road, Mr. Adrian took out his phone and focused on it while I sat doing nothing. I would have grabbed my phone, but there was nothing to do with it.

“Mr. Brandon?” I called out.

“Yes, Miss Brianna?” he glanced at me through the rearview mirror before looking back at the road.

“Sorry to bother you, but could you play some music? I’m dying of boredom here,” I pleaded.

“No problem, Miss,” he said, and soon *Motorsport* by Migos, Cardi B, and Nicki Minaj started blasting.

“Oooooooh, Brandon, you played the right song! I love this song soooo much!” I squealed, and he chuckled as I rapped along with Cardi B’s verse.

“Wow, Miss, you sure can rap,” he complimented.

“Thanks, Mr. Brandon!” I grinned widely.

“You listen to these kinds of songs?” Mr. Adrian asked, after several minutes of being glued to his phone.

“Of course. Any problem?” I responded, raising an eyebrow.

“No, no problem. I was just asking,” he said, distracted by his phone again.

A few minutes later, Brandon pulled up outside a classy, beautiful restaurant, one that looked like a five-star establishment.

“We’re here, sir,” Brandon announced.

“Thanks, Brandon. We’ll be back soon,” Mr. Adrian said. “Let’s go, Brianna.” He stepped out of the car, and I followed.

We entered the restaurant, and a well-dressed waiter immediately approached us.

“Good day, sir and ma’am. How may I assist you?” he asked, smiling warmly.

“Good day. I have a meeting here with Mr. Sergio. He made a reservation,” Mr. Adrian said.

“Ah, yes! Follow me, please,” the waiter said, leading us to a table where two men were already seated: an older man and a younger one.

“Ah, Mr. Adrian! Good to see you!” The older man, presumably Mr. Sergio, stood up and shook Mr. Adrian’s hand enthusiastically.

“Good to see you too, Mr. Sergio. Apologies for keeping you waiting,” Mr. Adrian said.

“No problem. We haven’t been here long. Please, have a seat,” Mr. Sergio invited. We sat down.

“Mr. Adrian, who is this beauty beside you?” Mr. Sergio asked, eyeing me.

“Oh yes, Mr. Sergio, this is Brianna, my personal assistant,” Mr. Adrian introduced me.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I greeted politely.

“Good afternoon, Brianna. You’re quite beautiful,” he said with a flirtatious smile. I couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. There was nothing wrong with the compliment, but coming from an older man, it felt unsettling.

“Err, thank you, sir,” I said, unsure of how to respond. Mr. Adrian cleared his throat loudly.

“Who is this guy sitting with you, Mr. Sergio?” Mr. Adrian asked, glancing at the younger man, who had been silent so far.

“Ah, right! This is Simeon, my personal assistant,” Mr. Sergio said. Simeon finally acknowledged us.

“Good day, sir. Good day, miss,” he greeted, dragging out the ‘miss.’

“Alright, now that introductions are over, let’s get down to business,” Mr. Adrian said firmly, and the atmosphere immediately shifted to a more professional one.

“So, Mr. Adrian, you mentioned you want to buy a portion of the shares in the Aluminum Rolling Mill. What percentage are we talking about?” Mr. Sergio asked.

“Hmmm. Considering the company’s profit, I’d like to buy thirty percent,” Mr. Adrian said.

“That’s quite a hefty chunk. It’s going to cost you a lot of money,” Mr. Sergio remarked.

“Of course, I know. I’m prepared to pay whatever amount it takes,” Mr. Adrian replied.

“Really? You’ll pay any amount?” Mr. Sergio asked, surprise flickering across his face, but it quickly faded.

“Yes, I will,” Mr. Adrian confirmed.

Throughout their discussion, I could feel Simeon’s eyes fixed on my cleavage and then on my face. He seemed mesmerized, and I could see the drool collecting at the corner of his mouth. I never knew I could make men act so ridiculous.

“Simeon! Simeon!” Mr. Sergio called out, but Simeon was too distracted to hear.

“Simeon! What the hell is wrong with you?” Mr. Sergio asked when Simeon snapped out of his daze.

“I... I was thinking about how Brianna’s boobs would feel in my hands. I’m sure they’d be very soft,” he blurted out, and the room went silent. Three shocked sets of eyes stared at him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—” Simeon stammered, but Mr. Adrian’s booming voice cut him off.

“What the hell, dude?!” Mr. Adrian yelled.

“We’re in the middle of a very important meeting, and you’re busy fantasizing about my personal assistant’s breasts. Are you out of your mind?” Mr. Adrian suddenly flared up, his voice sharp. I was taken aback, both amused and shocked by his outburst.

“I-I’m sorry, sir.” Simeon stammered, but his apology lacked sincerity.

“Well, you can’t blame him, Mr. Adrian. Your personal assistant is stunning. I’m surprised she’s not a model for Victoria’s Secret or a runway show instead of working as someone’s assistant,” Mr. Sergio chimed in, grinning lecherously. I gaped at him. He was old enough to be my uncle—hell, even my father—and yet here he was, acting like a dirty old man.

“Not you too, Mr. Sergio!” Mr. Adrian growled, his frustration evident. “If your assistant is foolish enough to entertain this kind of talk, then you, the boss, should have enough sense to put a stop to it. You know what? I’m done with this meeting. You can sell your shares to someone else.” Mr. Adrian slammed his hand on the table, standing up sharply before storming out.

I was about to follow, but Mr. Sergio grabbed my arm with surprising force.

“Where are you going, pretty damsel? Don’t tell me you’re going after him,” he sneered.

“Of course, I’m going after him!” I snapped, trying to pull away from his grip.

“You don’t need to follow him. Come with me, and I’ll pay you handsomely without you having to do a thing,” Mr. Sergio offered, his smirk widening.

“No, thank you. I don’t want your dirty money. Let me go.” My anger flared, and I twisted free from his hold, storming out of the restaurant without looking back.

As soon as I reached the car, Mr. Adrian’s voice broke through the tension. “What were you doing in there after I left?”

“I was giving those old men a reality check,” I responded simply, my voice tight with frustration.

“Well, you see how things got out of hand? I don’t want this happening again. From tomorrow, you’re wearing clothes that cover your body,” he said sternly, his gaze fixed on the road.

I shot him a confused look. “I should wear clothes that cover my body? Is this outfit really showing too much skin, or is it so wrong for a girl to show a little cleavage?”

“All I’m saying is, start dressing more conservatively. If you want to show off your cleavage, go work at a strip club.” His tone was dismissive.

“It’s not my fault they couldn’t control themselves, but if you insist I dress more conservatively, fine. I’ll start dressing like a nun. Happy now?” I snapped, turning away to stare out of the window as Brandon drove us away from the restaurant.