Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 42: Drama Office Morning

Chapter 42: Drama Office Morning

’This is your office,’

Her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. She could feel a lump forming in her throat, a mix of disbelief and despair.

This was going to be a mountain of work. No, not a mountain—a whole damn range.

She could cry.

"What kind of office is this?" she finally whispered, her voice barely audible.

Niklaus leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he watched her reaction with a small, amused smirk. "A cozy one," he said, clearly enjoying her dismay.

Hermia turned back to look at the room, her mind spinning. This isn’t an office. This is a punishment.

A test. A cruel joke.

"How are we going to do this?" Hermia asked, forcing a smile and trying to sound upbeat despite the sinking feeling in her chest.

Niklaus leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "You’ll clean out the room," he said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. "Once you’ve done that, a table and any office appliances you’ll need will be delivered."

Hermia’s forced smile faltered, and she frowned. "Isn’t that, I don’t know...an abuse of power or something?"

One of his elegant brows arched. "Did you go through a formal interview process?"

Her lips parted in shock. "You created a backdoor, forced me into it, and turned me into a debtor without my consent. Then you threw me into this mess!" she fired back, gesturing at the dusty chaos around her.

Niklaus’s other brow rose, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. "Oh?" he said, his tone laden with mock surprise.

Hermia crossed her arms and huffed. "Okay, fine," she relented with a casual roll of her eyes, realizing she wasn’t going to win this argument.

She stepped fully into the room, immediately wrinkling her nose as a fresh wave of dust greeted her.

Her eyes darted around, landing on the piles of files, papers, and random office supplies stacked haphazardly on shelves and the floor.

Why had no one cleared this room before? she thought bitterly.

And then it hit her: Why do I have to be in the same office as him? There are entire floors downstairs! I could’ve been stationed there instead of next door to this... this smug tyrant!

"Where am I supposed to put all these files?" she asked, motioning to the bulk of them.

Niklaus shrugged, completely unfazed by her irritation. "They’re mostly what you’ll need to go through anyway to understand how everything works here. Put them wherever you want."

She stared at him, trying to keep her composure. "Right. Of course. Makes perfect sense," she muttered, biting back the urge to say something more sarcastic.

"Good. I’ll be at my desk if you need anything," he said smoothly, turning on his heel and striding back toward his office without a backward glance.

Hermia sighed heavily, watching him go. Great. Just great. He drops this nightmare on me and leaves me to deal with it alone.

She glanced around the room again, her heart sinking further. Shouldn’t there be a cleaner or janitor to help with this? she wondered. We could at least tag-team it. But she quickly realized that pondering and wallowing wouldn’t make the work disappear.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and muttered to herself, "Okay, Hermia. You can do this. It’s just one room."

She dusted her hands off on her skirt, pulled her hair back into a loose bun, and rolled up the sleeves of her coat.

Let’s go!

As she took a tentative step inside, a cloud of dust rose around her, and she coughed, waving her hand in front of her face.

God help me, she thought miserably.

Niklaus settled back at his desk, but his attention was far from the reports on his screen.

His dark eyes flicked repeatedly toward the room Hermia had been sent to clean, frustration simmering beneath his carefully composed exterior.

He liked that her new workspace was so close to his office—too close, if he were honest—but he hated how dreadful the room looked.

What’s she doing now?

The sound of movement caught his attention.

He tilted his head slightly, watching discreetly through his lashes as Hermia stepped out of the room, slipping off her coat.

The soft sky-blue fabric clung to her as she walked past him, heading toward one of the couches in his office.

She tossed the coat there without sparing him a glance, her confidence in her own actions both irritating and alluring.

Niklaus didn’t mind being ignored. It gave him the chance to observe her unnoticed.

His gaze drifted to her skin, which seemed to glow under the office lights.

She wore a body-hugging, short-sleeved shirt that matched her coat, the color making her appear both soft and untouchable.

The way the shirt clung to her figure was enough to send a wave of heat to his chest.

He took a deep breath, forced his eyes back to his screen, and shifted in his seat. Focus, Niklaus. Focus.

But before he could center himself, Steffon knocked and entered the office, his brow furrowed. "Boss, what is she doing?"

Niklaus didn’t bother glancing up. "Work."

Steffon frowned deeply, stepping closer. "Why is she cleaning your office?"

"That’s her office now," Niklaus replied curtly, picking up a pen to pretend to work.

Steffon’s face twisted in disbelief. "That dusty old storage room? You haven’t used it in years! It’s filled with files, cupboards, and cobwebs!"

"Exactly why I’m putting it to use now," Niklaus said, his tone flat but purposeful.

Steffon hesitated, then ventured cautiously, "But you hate people being in your personal space. Isn’t that a bit too close for comfort?"

Niklaus’s pen paused midair, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. "That is Mia. She can never be too close."

Steffon’s brow shot up in astonishment. His boss’s tone was far too dreamy for comfort. What is happening here? But he swallowed his curiosity and instead asked, "What exactly is her job?"

"My secretary," Niklaus answered, leaning back with a smug, satisfied smile.

"You always insisted you didn’t need one," Steffon reminded him, waving a file for emphasis.

"Clearly, I’ve reconsidered," Niklaus said smoothly.

"You said I was enough for you," Steffon countered, quoting him with mock offense.

"Well, congratulations. You now have someone to lessen your workload," Niklaus said, though his smile faltered as the thought settled in his mind.

Wait, lessen Steffon’s workload? Would that mean Hermia helping someone else? His jaw tightened at the notion.

Steffon pressed on, undeterred. "Then why is she cleaning? The janitor is in the building!"

Niklaus opened his mouth to reply but froze as a faint sneeze echoed from Hermia’s direction. His head snapped up, alarm flashing across his face.

"Boss?" Steffon called after him, but Niklaus was already on his feet, striding swiftly toward the storage room.

His long legs carried him there in seconds, his tailored suit moving effortlessly with him. He stepped into the dusty room to find Hermia, her eyes and nose tinged red from irritation.

"Are you okay?" he asked urgently, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Hermia blinked up at him, startled. "What?"

He stepped closer, cupping her face with his hand as he inspected her. "Are you okay?" he repeated, his tone bordering on panic.

Hermia’s hand instinctively rose to his wrist, her frown softening as she tried to push him away. "Uhh...yes, it’s just the dust and—" She sneezed again, cutting herself off.

Niklaus’s heart flipped. Without a second thought, he grabbed her arm, guiding her out of the room. "You should’ve used a mask," he scolded, brushing a speck of dust from her eyebrow as he frowned at her red nose.

"I didn’t know I’d be cleaning today," Hermia snapped, glaring at him. "If I had, I would’ve brought one."

He clenched his jaw, nodding curtly. "Come here."

Before she could argue, he pulled her toward his main office.

"Where are you taking me? I’m not done yet!" Hermia protested, trying to wriggle free.

"You’re not doing that anymore," Niklaus said firmly, shooting a glance at Steffon. "Get the janitors here to handle that room," he ordered as he guided Hermia to a couch and sat her down.

"And bring water, a bundle of white handkerchiefs, and—what else do you need?" he asked, turning to Hermia.

"What?" she said, wide-eyed, baffled by the sudden fuss.

"Coffee. And something for dust irritation and sneezing," Niklaus continued, addressing Steffon.

Steffon stared at him, utterly baffled. "Boss, she’s the—"

"Go!" Niklaus barked, cutting him off.

As silence returned, Hermia stared at him, her confusion plain. "What’s happening?" she asked.

Niklaus nodded as if her question made perfect sense. "You’re going through a lot right now, and I understand. Just hold on."

She furrowed her brows. "I’m not dying. I need to work—"

"Just relax," he whispered, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

Hermia’s eyes widened, and she blinked rapidly. What is he doing?

"You just relax. Call me if you need anything," he said softly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

What?! Hermia’s mind raced. He should be calling me if he needs anything! She stared in stunned silence as Niklaus returned to his desk, burying himself in his computer.

Her thoughts whirled.

Okay, what the actual hell is going on here?