Under the Desk (Billionaire Affair) by Emma France Page B

fall back to sitting in my desk, legs crossed. God, he's something else . Mr. Franks gestures again toward his office, and they step through. In the corner of my eye, I'm sure I catch Mr. Schallert looking over for a quick glimpse at me before they disappear behind the oak doorway.
    Distracted by and feeling pretty great that a man like him had checked me out, my work suffers a bit. I am unable to concentrate for the life of me, and barely get anything done for the next hour and a half. Through the wall behind me, I can hear the two of them, Mr. Franks and Mr. Schallert, talking and laughing. Well, Mr. Franks has been laughing a lot more. It seems like he's trying to get on Mr. Schallert's good side, which means either Mr. Schallert has something he wants, or... well, no, that's can only be it. With Jeffery Franks, there aren't many shades of grey.
    Shortly after, as I'm sitting and typing away at my desk, minding my own business amidst the hubbub of the morning, the door opens behind me and Mr. Franks walks out. As he steps away from view of the doorway, laughing and smiling, his cheerful demeanor fades. Mr. Franks' face tightens, and his eyes, just seconds prior jovial and happy, give me a death stare. "What the hell are you wearing?" He asks, as if he already knows my answer, and also knows it will only make him angrier. My face is blank, confused. Isn't this what he wanted? Me to dress up? To put on my best to impress? "This is not what I told you to do," he angrily spats, as if he can read my thoughts.
    I'm struggling to even get any words out of my mouth at all. I'm not good at confrontation, never have been, especially against someone so heatedly hostile. "I just- I was trying to- I wanted..." my mumbled words trailed off. Who am I trying to fool? I'm just a plain woman. Nothing special about me, and it's absurd for me to cover myself with makeup and think it makes me a new woman. I knew it, he knew it, and I can't help but feel that Mr. Franks is spouting harsh reality at my face now.
    Distraught and upset, my eyes start to fill up. The stinging makes me blink, and a couple of tear drops roll down my face, smearing my eyeliner in vertical streaks. I look away. I hear him shuffle his feet, not caring at all how insensitive he's being. I hate him. I hate the way he treats me, and I hate working for him. A small sob lets itself from my throat, and I try to choke it back before it becomes anything more.
    Mr. Franks can only sigh from irritated frustration. "Get over yourself, Bayli. And clean yourself up. You're a God-damn embarrassment right now." Mr. Franks displays not a hint of compassion in his voice. Turning and leaving back through the door to his office, I am left behind.
    I try my best to wipe the tears from my eyes, which only serves to further smear my makeup, making me look even more like a mess. I need fresh air . Grabbing my purse and phone, I get quickly away from my desk and step outside, still holding back the urge to cry.
    It's only a few minutes alone before the door opens and I find myself joined by the guest that Mr. Franks has in for a meeting, Mr. William Schallert. "Is everything okay, Miss Kraft?" He asks earnestly, his voice low and soft, powerful and comforting. I look at him standing next to me. I don't know what to say to him, but I also don't mind the company.
    "I'm... I'm okay." I reply with a sniffle. “Oh, who am I fooling.”
    Mr. Schallert pauses, and then begins. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Mr. Franks, inside," he states. I look up at him nervously, to which he replies quickly, “Thin walls make private matters public."
    “It was rude and uncalled for, what he said to you. Between you and I, you look beautiful today." His smile captivates me. For a moment I'm lost. I reach up with my wrist and wipe the newest bit of tears from my eyes.
    "Thank you," I reply. "I shouldn't be crying. It's silly of me."
    "It's okay. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
    Although in my