Morning Mayhem

"Why does my boss have to be so weird?" I mumble to myself as the Uber arrives at Havoc & Moros Inc. Havoc texted me that he would send a car to pick me up instead of giving me an address. I thought it would be hard to find his place, but this is just his office.

"What?" the driver asks.

I shake my head, realizing I've spoken out loud. "Oh, nothing," I reply. As I step out of the Uber, I thank him. I look at the building, wondering why he wanted me here at five in the morning. He wanted me to pick out his clothes like he's five and I'm his mom.

My phone buzzes in my purse. I quickly pull it out and see his message: "Are you here yet?"

I roll my eyes and text back: "You had the driver drop me off at the office."

H. Moros: "I know. Come through the front."

I sigh, stuff my phone into my bag, and head up the dark stone steps. Like last Friday, the building is entirely black, making it appear unoccupied. As soon as I push through the front door, I let out a scream in shock, which echoes off the stone walls of the large entrance.

A modern dark stone living room exudes sophistication and elegance just past the entrance. Its sleek lines and minimalist design elements contribute a regal air. The fireplace is centrally positioned, its flickering flames casting a warm glow over the polished granite floors and charcoal-colored walls. Large windows allow in just enough natural light to accentuate the intricate textures of the stone surfaces. A plush leather sofa beckons me to sink into its depths while a chandelier made of black crystal hangs above like droplets of midnight rain. This is a space where luxury meets darkness, and every detail is carefully curated to create an enchanting and mysterious atmosphere.

I jerk the front door open again, revealing the pale horse symbol and the label reading Havoc & Moros. The street outside looks the same as the office, but the interior differs.

"What the hell?' I whisper under my breath as I glance back at the house. Dark shelves serve as walls separating the entrance from the expansive living room. Despite the lovely sunny weather outside, I notice that the frosted window in the living room looks gray and speckled with rain.

"I think my morning bagel might have been spiked... with acid." I don't usually talk to myself, but nothing about this feels real, and hearing my voice helps me feel grounded.

"Good morning," Havoc suddenly greets me, causing me to jump. He sits in all his regal glory in a pair of silk pajamas, reading a newspaper.

When the hell did he come in and sit on the couch?

"M-morning," I cautiously step into the living room. "Did you renovate over the weekend?" I gesture around the room, still bewildered by the change.

"Don't be stupid," Havoc bluntly responds, folding his paper before tossing it onto an amber glass table. He picks up a steaming mug of coffee and takes a sip. "You're late."

"I am not." I glance at my watch. It's just a minute past five, yet I know I walked through the door precisely on time.

Havoc rises from the couch and tucks his paper under his arm. "Let me give you the walkthrough so you'll know what your morning routine will be from here on out." He turns and heads toward one of the far walls. As he walks away, I can't help but notice how perfectly his pajama bottoms fit his butt.

'Oh my God,' I mouth toward the heavens. I shouldn't be ogling my new boss's ass, but it's hard not to when it looks so good.

"Keep up, Nadine." He gestures with his hand for me to follow.

I quickly shake my head before following him. As we approach the wall, I notice a glass cutout in the rough rock tile. When Havoc touches it, it lights up red, and a door opens. I follow him into a spacious bedroom. The walls are painted a deep charcoal gray, creating a sense of intimacy. A large bed dominates the room, its black leather headboard contrasting with the rugged stone accent wall behind it. To further enhance the ambiance, rustic wooden beams line the ceiling, adding a touch of organic warmth to the otherwise contemporary space. The room is illuminated by low ambient lighting that casts long shadows across the floor, emphasizing the furniture's stark lines and angular shapes.

My heels click against the black granite floors as I absorb my surroundings. Walking toward the center of the room, I notice a large abstract painting hanging on one wall. Its bold colors and swirling patterns add another layer of drama to the already striking decor. The artwork comes alive under the dim lighting, its vibrant red hues dancing in the shadows. It resembles a mesmerizing, chaotic dance on the canvas.

Havoc lets out a deep sigh, pulling my attention back to him. He gestures toward a thick amber glass door that leads to a closet revealed by the matching amber glass wall.

I follow him inside, and it fits the same theme as the other areas of the house I've seen. Luxurious suits and dress shirts line the racks, neatly organized by color and style. Havoc runs his fingers over the fabric of a black suit, a thoughtful expression on his face.

While there are many clothes here, there isn't much variety. Most of them are black. There are a few dark maroon shirts or suits with red accents, but overall, everything lacks color.

"You want me to pick out your outfit every day?" I ask, confirming that I heard him correctly last Friday. I understand that being a busy businessman can make finding something trivial feel time-consuming, but I'm unsure why he struggles with this task.

"Yes, can you handle that?" His deep voice rumbles through me, making my knees weak.

"I'm just surprised you need help with that, that's all. I can't imagine choosing between black and black would take up that much of your time in the morning." I quickly slap my hand over my mouth, not meaning to be so blunt.

He chuckles at my sarcasm, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You don't like my taste in clothes?"

"I didn't say that," I reply quickly, trying to backtrack. "I just meant that no matter what you wear, you'll look great. Clearly, it comes naturally to you, and I don't understand why you need my help."

He smiles at my effort to ease the tension. "Well, I appreciate the compliment. But sometimes even I need a second opinion."

I take a deep breath in before saying, "Mr. Moros—"

"Havoc, please," he interrupts me.

I sigh and continue. "Havoc, picking out your clothes isn't normal for a personal assistant," I point out.

Havoc chuckles, "Well, I'm not exactly a normal boss, am I? First thing in the morning, you'll come in here, pick out my suit for the day, and lay it out for me on the bed. I'll be in my bathroom showering and getting ready."

"Wait, wait." I hold my hand up to stop him. "What if you aren't? I don't want to walk in here with you walking around—" I stop myself, realizing I could easily walk in on him damp and wrapped in a towel or worse.

My jaw drops as I let the image of him, with wet hair and glistening skin, invade my thoughts. I quickly push it aside as it forces its way in. "What if you're just getting out of the shower?"

"I won't be if you're on time," he tells me.

"But what if you are?" I don't need the real vision living rent-free in my mind if I struggle to kick the fantasy out.

Havoc approaches me, invading my personal space as he leans in closely. "As long as you're on time, you have nothing to worry about." I can feel his breath on my skin, sending shivers through me.

He straightens up and walks away, leaving me dizzy and foggy-headed. "Keep following, Nadine," he mutters.

I follow him back into the main living area. I'm pretty sure that when I first entered, the entry and living room were the only visible rooms from the front door, but now I notice an industrial-sized kitchen off to the left.

I'm impressed by the sleek stainless steel appliances and spacious countertops. The kitchen is impeccably clean, just like the rest of the house.

"After you set out my clothes, I expect you to make me breakfast: scrambled eggs and avocado toast," he orders.

"No, wait." I stop in my tracks. "I don't cook. And by don't, I mean I can't. You want me to make you breakfast even less than I want to make you breakfast." I cross my arms defiantly, refusing to budge on the issue. The audacity of this man.

He stops and turns to face me. His gaze narrows as he slowly stalks back toward me. "What if I added a 401(k)?"

I raise an eyebrow, contemplating his offer. A 401(k)? That's certainly tempting. But still, the idea of trying to cook breakfast is enough to make me break out in a cold sweat.

"I... I don't know," I stammer, torn between my desire for financial security and my lack of culinary skills.

He stops in front of me, his intense gaze searching mine. "Come on," he coaxes, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips.

I sigh, knowing I can't cook even if I wanted to. "It's not a matter of will; I can't cook to save my life."

"I'll increase your pay by five percent," he offers.

"Havoc."

"Twenty percent."

I shake my head, feeling guilty for even considering it. "I appreciate the offer, but no."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by my refusal. "Fifty percent," he asserts, his tone firm.

"Fifty percent!" My jaw drops.

He nods. "And the 401(k). Plus the insurance."

If this man wants burnt toast every morning, who am I to stop him, especially at nearly fifty dollars an hour with a 401(k)? If burnt toast is what he desires, then burnt toast it shall be. The sound of his fire alarm going off each morning may be the wake-up call he needs. "Okay. Sure. Eggs and toast every morning—I can manage that."

A satisfied grin spreads across his face. He takes a sip of his coffee and nods in approval. "Good choice. Now," he gestures toward the grand open living room area, "as for the rest of the house, all rooms are off-limits unless a door is open for you to enter. Even my room. Don't come in unless the door is open. Is that clear?"

"Of course," I nod. I don't really want to go poking around his place anyway. When someone tells you not to poke around, you don't go poking around. I learned that from late-night TV.

"Good." He gives me a stern look before returning to his room. "I've already had breakfast this morning, but I still need to shower. Please set out my suit for today. There's a tablet on the bed for you to use to track my schedule. I recommend going over it while I get ready," he tells me before heading into his bathroom and leaving me alone in his room.

I roll my eyes and head toward the closet. "Oh, Nadine, you got a new job? What do you do?" I'm so glad you asked. I'm a grown man's mother." I grumble under my breath as I shuffle through his clothes, picking a sleek black suit made from fine Italian wool and lined with soft silk. I pair it with matching trousers and an Egyptian cotton shirt with a subtle sheen.

It's going to fit him perfectly. I lay the clothes on the bed and gather some socks and shoes to go with them before leaving the room. It isn't until the door clicks shut behind me that I realize I forgot to grab the tablet from the bed.

It didn't take long to pick out his clothes, and I'm sure he won't pop out that quickly. I debate whether to go back and grab the tablet or leave it until he gets out of the shower. He'll probably be irritated if I don't review his schedule like he told me to, though. I decide to turn around and retrieve it before he notices. I touch the glass slit in the stone like he did. It glows red, and the door clicks. I push it open and step inside before instantly regretting it. A scream escapes my lips as I get lost in the abyss. Something catches me by the collar of my blouse as universes swirl before me.

I'm jerked back out of space and into Havoc's living room. My jaw hangs open as I watch a comet streak past his door in a brilliant light display. Havoc looks at me with irritation painted heavily on his face. His hair is damp, but he's already wearing the suit I laid out for him. "I gave you one rule, and you already broke it," he growls.

"What are you?" The high pitch of my voice doesn't mask my panic.

Havoc's eyes narrow as he engulfs my space, his presence imposing. "I am fear, destruction, and demise. I embody the chaos and destruction of this world. I am Havoc."

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I can feel the weight of his power bearing down on me. Havoc's gaze pierces through me as if he can see into the depths of my soul. 

🖤🌹🖤🌹

WC this chapter: 2261

Total: 8160