Ugh! I hope this is a nightmare because whoever dares to call me right now is in serious trouble. It's the middle of the night, for crying out loud!
I grope for my phone on the bedside stand, mumbling, "What could you possibly want at this hour?" My eyes are still shut, and I don't even glance at the screen to check the caller ID.
"Middle of the night? Seriously, Julian Wilson Flynn? It's 9:12 a.m.! I want you in my office with my laptop in three minutes. If you weren't still in bed, I'd have said thirty seconds. Show up late, and we'll see how long you last in this company!"
I curse under my breath, leaping out of bed as I finally glance at the time. Sure enough, it's past nine.
I have dozens of missed calls—Paige, Lily, my dad, mom, Cara, and several unfamiliar numbers. I grab my hoodie and sweatpants, and put on , stuff my phone into my pocket, and rush out of the room.
I'm halfway out the door when I remember I left the laptop upstairs. Skating back up the stairs—yes, I do that sometimes—I grab it and rush out again. Nanny tries to tell me something, but I'm too frantic to listen.
"Julian, it's dangerous skating down the stairs! And we called you so many times!" she calls out after me.
I wave her off. "Sorry, Nanny, I'll explain later!"
I'm already flying down the road on my skateboard, weaving through traffic like my life depends on it. And honestly, it does—at least my job does. Skating always helps me clear my head, though today, it's doing little to calm me down.
BAM!
I crash into the side of a car. "Ugh! Are you kidding me?!" I shout, struggling to get up. Thankfully, I only hit the side door, but my leg is screaming at me.
"You okay, kid? Skating like that on a busy road is asking for trouble," the driver says, stepping out to check on me.
I glare at him. "I'm fine! You're the one who stopped in my way!"
"Right. Sure," he says with a smirk, offering me a hand. "Where are you headed? Hop in—I'll drop you off."
"With this traffic? No thanks."
He glances at my leg. "You sure you can keep skating?"
I sigh. "Good point." Reluctantly, I take his offer, but not before snapping a picture of his license plate—just in case.
A few minutes later, we pull up outside the company building. "You sure you don't want to check that leg?" he asks as I limp out.
"I'll live."
I rush inside, ignoring the pain, only to run smack into Mrs. Henderson. "Finally decided to show up, huh?!" she snaps.
I brush past her, muttering an apology, and head straight for the elevator. No time to deal with her right now.
Maybe later.
Knock, knock.
"Come in," the CEO's cold voice calls from inside.
I step in, bracing myself for the storm.
"You've got some nerve showing up now," he says, glaring at me. "Do you know how much trouble you've caused by keeping my laptop overnight?"
"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again," I say, handing over the laptop.
"Sorry doesn't cut it. Take these papers—there are instructions on what to do. You have one hour to sort everything out and bring them back. And don't screw it up."
I nod and take the stack of papers. Just as I turn to leave, Mrs. Henderson bursts in.
"Sir, this boy has been nothing but a headache! He ignored everyone's calls, arrived late, and is the reason everything's behind schedule. We can't work with someone so irresponsible!"
The CEO barely glances at her. "Then make him fix it. Isn't that your job?"
"But sir—"
"I'm done, Mrs. Henderson."
She storms out, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
"What are you still standing there for? Get to work William," he snaps.
"Right away, sir. But just so you know, I prefer to be addressed by my first name. Or if you must, add a 'Mr.' before my last name."
His glare is enough to send me running out the door.
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