I hated that miserable bastard who was now staring at me.
Bearded, swollen, with enormous shadows beneath his eyes. Nobody had punched him. He had just spent several days drinking himself senseless, barely sleeping. His skin gleamed with grease, his hair stood in a mess, and I would have bet he stank as well.
Bloody hell.
Under different circumstances, a dramatic sigh followed by a graceful exit might have suited the moment. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to leave when the pathetic creature was my own reflection.
After our unusual row with Michael the night before, he didn't stay long. He sat with me for a while, cracked a couple of jokes, then went home, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which flooded my mind the very moment the door closed behind him.
I had no idea what exactly that meeting with Michael had unsettled inside my head, though something had clearly cracked open. I began reconsidering my life. Every event. Every choice. Every fucking thing.
It was not an easy evening.
Now, the following morning, I stood in front of the mirror, fully aware that I needed to force myself to go into the office and finally get started on the changes I'd spoken about with such conviction the night before.
My head throbbed viciously, yet this time I was certain the cause was nothing more than lack of sleep and far too much alcohol. It was still agonising, but my mind felt clearer. Something that had weighed upon me for far too long appeared to have loosened its grip at last.
I dropped my gaze towards my hand and slowly flexed my fingers. The skin across my knuckles was still red in places.
When had I last been in a fight?
University, perhaps… So long ago, I can hardly remember what sort of person I was.
Ever since then, I had controlled everything: my emotions, my reactions, my manners. Every part of it remained carefully restrained.
However, as soon as I got close to that unbearable idiot Michael, the entire structure started to fall apart.
I took a deep breath and glanced around.
Everything looked absolutely dreadful. Empty takeaway containers littered nearly every surface alongside bottles, glasses, and crumpled rubbish. The place seemed more like the aftermath of a party than one man's private collapse.
I could have called a cleaning service, but I did not want to do that today and decided to clean it myself.
Maybe the entire thing carried some symbolic meaning. Or perhaps picking something up, throwing it away, and putting things back where they belonged calmed me down. Either way, I noticed that breathing became easier.
Once everything was finished, I opened the wardrobe and discovered a single suit hanging inside. I had probably left it there a long time ago for emergencies. Fortunately, the thing looked respectable enough to survive a day at the office without causing public humiliation.
I dressed slowly, then reached for the tie, but my hand stopped before my fingers even touched the fabric.
For some reason, I had no desire to wear it today.
I lifted my gaze towards the mirror, studying my reflection. I hardly looked appropriate for the office. In fact, I resembled Michael with that absence of rigid perfection he constantly ignored.
Strangely enough, I did not dislike it.
I wanted to breathe freely, without that damned strip of fabric pressing against my throat like a leash.
Never before have I gone to the office dressed like this. Perhaps today was the perfect time to start.
Leaving the apartment, I felt rebellious, as though I had done something daring. Ridiculous, considering it was merely a missing tie and jacket.
Yet somehow, it was like a first step.
*** *** *** ***
The first thing I heard after the lift doors slid open was my secretary's voice.
"Yes, he called earlier and confirmed he will attend them... Yes, yes, admittedly, he has been behaving rather strangely lately..." He lowered his voice slightly before immediately brightening again. "Yes, yes, yes, yes. Him exactly… I shall inform you once he arrives… I will make time for you in his schedule. Yes. Naturally, I'll send over his timetable. Everything-"
Then he froze, finally noticing me standing there.
"Everything as usual," he finished smoothly. "Mister Moncler has just arrived. Thank you."
He ended the call calmly, as if I had overheard absolutely nothing inappropriate.
"Reporting back to my father again?" I asked flatly.
"No, sir. Your mother this time."
I gave a small nod and walked past him into my office.
The moment the door shut behind me, my mood dropped sharply. I lowered myself into the chair and rubbed a hand across my face.
What was I upset about?
My secretary was not truly my secretary. He was more like a prison guard. Every schedule was passed on to my family. Every change was reported. Every little detail was noted down and passed on to my father or mother.
I suddenly felt terribly small. Some unfortunate insect pinned beneath a magnifying glass for observation.
How was I supposed to change anything here, in my business, in my own life, when somebody constantly watched me? When the person meant to be my right hand followed somebody else's instructions instead?
Well… I think I already knew what my first change ought to be.
I pressed the button on my desk and called my secretary back inside.
He entered a moment later. "Yes, sir? You asked for me?"
"Yes," I replied in the flattest tone I could manage. "Go to HR and ask them to arrange your transfer."
"Transfer?" His eyes widened. "Are we relocating somewhere?"
"We are not relocating anywhere. You are being transferred," I said, looking at him. "If you object to that, you may submit your resignation instead. Though I imagine HR will find you a perfect position somewhere within the company. Inform them that the order came directly from me."
"But… you have numerous meetings scheduled today, sir. I do not believe you'll be able to-"
I raised a hand, cutting him off.
"While you're speaking to HR, tell them to send me the résumés of new candidates." I paused. "I shall choose my own secretary."
Judging by the look on his face, the tone of my voice alone had made it clear to him that the decision was final.
After a brief silence, he nodded.
"Yes, sir."
Then he turned and left the office.
Something deep inside me trembled afterwards. I was nervous, as if standing at the edge of a coming fight.
All I had done was replace my secretary. So why did it feel as though I had just declared war?