Chapter 10 Be Professional

[Ella]
"Mr. Bates, how long do we have before we are there?"
An hour and a half have passed since Mr. Bates came to pick up Ethan and me. Ethan growls at me several times in my backpack, clearly showing his unease. I have to take him out of the bag and cradle him in my arms so he can look out the car window.
After the black limousine leaves the city, the green meadows become more visible.
"In about 10 minutes, Miss Ronan," Mr. Bates answers me politely.
"Has Mr. Clapton found someone to work at Andy's Pet Shop?" I ask. Considering I teased Mr. Clapton last night, I worry he might forget about it deliberately. I choose to ask the affable Mr. Bates.
Before I left this morning, I called Andrew to explain the reason for my resignation. Andrew kindly gave me his sincere blessing and told me not to worry about it. His wife would take care of it. But I still felt guilty. After all, I promised him I would leave the job after his leg injury healed.
"Yes. I got the message from Boss this morning. My sister is interested in a part-time job at the pet store. So, I recommended her to try it." Mr. Bates says.
"That's great. Thank you, Mr. Bates," I say, rubbing Ethan's head with my fingers to soothe him.
"You can just call me Ansel, Miss Ronan," Mr. Bates says.
"Well, then you are free to call me Ella. Oh, I knew you and Mia went to a new bar on Monday night, and Mia told me she had found her mate. Do you know who it was?" I question. The ring on Mr. Bates' hand tells me he's married, so there's no way Mia's mate is him.
Ansel looks like having thought of something funny; he replies, "You can ask Mia. Mr. Clapton forbade me to say that. Oops, forget what I said."
Mr. Clapton? Is he Mia's mate? I widen my eyes and can't believe what I heard. With this information, it makes sense that Mr. Clapton came to my apartment last night and asked where Mia was.
A complicated feeling that I haven't felt in a long time has arisen. It feels like someone has tightened a string around my stomach. It's painful. At the same time, my arms start to get cold, as if someone has cast a spell to take away my ability to think and breathe. I shouldn't have behaved this way because Mia told me she wasn't interested in her mate. Besides, Mr. Clapton only mentioned Mia once last night.
No, no, I should be worried about Mia because Mr. Clapton is a mean jerk. Even if Mia doesn't have feelings for him, Mr. Clapton will probably pester her.
I pat my forehead absently, running my fingers through my hair. I completely miss what Ansel is saying and even ignore Ethan's purr.
"Eh-hem," Ansel coughs, as he seems to have called me many times. He reminds me, "Ella, we're almost there."
Ethan's paws are playing with my hair dangling over my breasts. I pet his chin and put him back in my backpack.
Two red squirrels are chasing each other in the meadow; two swans are playing happily on the lake; the magnificent and gorgeous villa is like a small castle about 1 mile away from the lake. But I have lost interest in enjoying these views.
After getting out of the car, Ansel takes us into the villa. Inside, the villa is decorated in a modern and straightforward style, not like the lavish style of European royalty I have seen in TV dramas.
The black marble tiles have naturally formed golden streaks, as if they were sprinkled with a layer of gorgeous gold flowers, indicating the wealth of the villa's owner. On the left wall, there are several paintings with geometric patterns, but I don't understand the deep meaning behind them. I glance to the living room on my right, and the first thing that attracts my attention is the fresh fruit on the black and white coffee table.
My stomach squirms a few times as it urges me to grab some fruit for lunch, but I can't do that because Ansel seems to be taking me to see Mr. Clapton. Thinking of Mr. Clapton instantly cut my appetite in half.
My stomach squirms a few times as it urges me to grab some fruit for lunch, but I can't do that because Ansel seems to be taking me to see Mr. Clapton. Thinking of Mr. Clapton instantly cut my appetite in half.
Ethan peeks his head out of my bag and retreats. He must have found out we are in a new environment and gotten scared.
"It's okay, Ethan, I'm with you," I whisper to reassure Ethan, then put on my backpack.
Ansel stops in front of a rosy wood door, then tells me, "You'll have lunch in the dining room first. The researchers from the pet breeding lab will be here in 30 minutes."
"Ansel, you're not joining me for lunch?" I ask.
Ansel winks at me, "I have a love-filled lunch box prepared by my wife." With that, he leaves.
I snicker and then push the door.
A dining table that is large enough to serve ten people is set in the middle of the spacious room. A man in a black suit is sitting there at the end of the table. It is the man who affects my appetite and makes my stomach flutter inexplicably when I see him - my Boss.
I suddenly have the urge to rush out and beg Ansel to share his lunch with me. I don't wanna have lunch with a badass. But Mr. Clapton spots me.
"Lunch is over there. Help yourself," he says with an expressionless face as if he has completely forgotten what happened last night.
I turn my head and find a long table covered with a white tablecloth on the left side of the room. The table is filled with dishes, drinks, fruits, and desserts, including roast beef, sushi, orange juice, and coffee. The food looks tempting, but I have lost all appetite.
"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Clapton," My voice is tight with nervousness.
I am hesitant to tell Mr. Clapton that I am not hungry and can go wait for him in the living room. Mr. Clapton reminds me at this moment, "Miss Ronan, you don't need to act so tensely. I won't do anything to you during working hours because of my private experiences. Please don't forget your job. Be professional."
His words don't exactly ease me. But he is correct. I am his employee, and I should act professionally.
"I'm sorry." Rubbing the sides of my jeans, I take some food at random and sit at the farthest seat from him- at the other end of the table.
If you asked me what roast beef and sushi tasted like? I'd say I completely failed to enjoy the food on my plate just now. Because the truth is, I do not focus on having my lunch. As I mechanically fill my mouth like a robot, I devote all my energy to thinking about one thing-Mr. Clapton is Mia's mate.
"You didn't eat your breakfast?" Mr. Clapton's voice comes from about 15 feet away from me.
"No, I did." I immediately drop the knife and fork in my hand, tensing every muscle after hearing Mr. Clatpon's question. It feels like I were the student who trifles with the teacher's lecture but is called to answer the question.
"How's the cat? Is it in your backpack?" He asks.
Oh, yeah, I come here for Ethan's physical check-up. I open my backpack and carry Ethan out. Good thing he isn't shaking with fear or struggling to escape. That's my brave boy.
"Ethan isn't used to the new surroundings, and I have left him alone in the backpack for a while. He should feel better now." I explain.
"That's good. Look, you have three things to do before the researchers get here. First, take the cat around the house and make sure he's familiar with the place." He starts to present my job assignment.
"Mr. Clapton, I'm afraid it's difficult to get Ethan familiar with the whole villa. It's too big for him. Perhaps I could get him familiar with the room where the researchers check his health." I say, then pick up a white napkin from the table to tease Ethan lying on my lap.
"Well, then, in the living room! Second, although you failed to change the cat's name, you can't call that cat by its name in front of the researchers before they leave." He continues.
"Okay, I'll," I try to hold in my laughter and ask him, "what's the last one?"
"Last thing, you're going to pretend to be my girlfriend. But don't touch me because you smell like that cat." He says. His sapphire-colored eyes don't give me any hint that their owner is joking.
My hand stops in the air, and the napkin falls on Ethan's stomach. In the blink of an eye, the room goes silent.