There was nothing remotely friendly about Kyle St. Ives. Never has been if memory serves correctly. He has always been a sarcastic asshole and there has never been a moment in his thirty-six years were he would not make you feel like you were a piece of warmed over shit if he could. He thoroughly enjoyed it actually...the prick.
He has, in fact, made bets with his other high society assholes to see who could terrorize their subordinates the most. There was even a point system.
5 points if you made them cuss you out.
10 points if you made them so angry they'd have to be escorted out by security.
20 points if you made them seek out therapy.
30 points if you made them quit.
40 points if you made a woman cry. (Double if it were male.)
50 points if they had a mental break down.
60 points if you sent them to the loony bin.
70 points if you made them proposition you for sex to improve your behavior towards them.
80 points if they actually physically hurt themselves.
90 points if you had to call the cops to have them arrested once they attacked you. (Its not as if anyone could get close enough with the army of brain dead brutes protecting them.)
And 100 points for suicide.
There has never been a suicide in the company employees since they've started there stupid little game...thankfully...but I've encountered more than a few people who've either had a mental break down or had to be sent to the psych ward because they'd been pushed over the edge.
You'd think that with such unhappy employees that the St. Ives and Thompson Corporation would have gone belly up within a year but despite that, the company was doing better than it ever had. It made over two billion dollars last year and despite the economic crisis, they've been steadily making money ever since....It was just to bad that the St. Ives and Thompson Corporation was run by such an ass.
They all labored under the belief that if they could make the company more prosperous that, maybe St. Ives wouldn't be such a dick to them all anymore. Poor suckers actually believed in that little fairy tale.
Even though him actually being nice was as far fetched as a cow jumping over the moon, St. Ives paid each and every one of them more than any of his other society friends and he gave everyone an awesome health plan...it was his only saving grace to date.
It could lead one to conclude that he wasn't as bad as his other cohorts but to my way of thinking, he was just another degree of asshole.
An attractive asshole to boot.
At 6"6 he was the most attractive man I had ever seen. With his devastatingly baby blue eyes and inky black hair he was quite stunning. He had the classic roman features of his ancestors and the muscled body of a spartan soldier. I can just imagine him dressed in the crimson clock of a soldier with his golden shield and deadly spear. I wouldn't want him to wear the helmet though; his hair was just to pretty for that.
You could say that I've had more than one fantasy about that.
So, with that delightful information fresh in your mind, I'll introduce myself. My name is Heather Cromwell, and, just so you know, so you don't get confused, I'm in love with my boss.
I have been the Personal Secretary to Kyle St. Ives for six years and counting. I can still remember the first day I started my job...it was one of the worst days I've ever had. The whole day I was constantly razzed about being to slow or not doing things the way they should have been done...I was even yelled at because I took a pee break. In front of everyone too. That just made the whole situation ten times worse.
That day when I went home I crawled under my bedroom comforter and just cried like a little baby. If I could have I would have crawled under the nearest rock and hid from the world for the rest of my life. I swore to myself that if I ever got the chance that I'd tear Kyle St. Ives balls off and shove them down his throat.
As luck would have it, I ran out of coffee that very morning and had forgotten to buy more on my way home so after a rather tension filled sleepless night I went to work. Now, I don't know about the rest of the world but I am a coffee junky. If I am not on an almost constant supply of caffeine it's like I'm PMSing...but on speed.
I'm at my meanest when I am in withdrawal mode and Kyle St. Ives made the mistake of starting stupid shit with me before I could even grab a cup of crappy company coffee...and they didn't even have any so I was about to make more when he cornered me in the break room.
He started to rail at me about how bad I had done the day before and how I needed to get my sorry ass in gear if I was going to work for him, so I just hauled off and nailed him with the empty company coffee pot across the head...shocked the hell out of his bodyguards.
Then everything just kind of happened at once, really. I was immediately detained and thrown into the nearest empty room where they proceeded to lock me inside. I hadn't realized it then but there had been someone laughing in the background after I knocked my boss out. And that laughter had belonged to none other than St. Ives business partner, Coriander Thompson.
