The door slapped open at the exact moment. And it surprised Catherine to see him there. The man from earlier She'd tried her hardest to keep a poker face on. She was a professional, after all, and she had seen worse. It would not phase her. His smile vanished, giving her a piercing look that had her freezing in her spot. 
Did he remember her? She didn't have to contemplate that long for the answer since he took her grips and pulled her in. "Why the hell are you here?" he exclaimed.
I'm a..." Catherine stuttered. She would've taken up the challenge had he not been rushing. He grinned, slashing her off as she peeled her palms from his grasp.
"You work here?" Frowning, they both went to the table as Catherine brought back the brown manila envelope she'd forgotten from yesterday's meeting. "Yes, and can you please let me go?" She asked. She will not swerve like all the others. Catherine thinks she recognized him from somewhere else now that she can see him without the wind and rain obscuring his face.
She recognized him from someplace, but for the love of God, she couldn't remember where, when, or how. She was disappointed and a bit furious at herself for not recalling him.
Who was he? Sean David Walton, a 30-year-old millionaire who owns the Lava Soft, was the man.The company his grandfather spent 18 years trying to succeed with now has over 28 branches and over 120 hotels and offices all over the world. She knew this because she had done her investigation while waiting for the papers in the copy room. And, for the record, he appears to be rather familiar in any case, which was more terrifying than having to drink coffee without a lump of sugar in it.How could he be so perfect? She associated his physical characteristics with those of an underwear model—kind of perfection. He was superb-looking, and his general appearance was disarming. He's tall, has vast shoulders, ripped abs, a light dusting of chest hair complete with a happy trail, and is well-endowed. His chiseled facial features were striking; a firm jaw, a smooth-sculpted nose, and a crooked smile, finishing it with eyes the shade of blue-gray and a full head of dark copper strands.
He then moved closer, so close that she could smell the mixture of cologne and aftershave he was wearing.
Why hadn't she noticed that earlier? "Well, sir!" she stammered as he smirked down at her.What do you think of me now, Miss? I'm running late. Did I get your tongue under your throat?" He asked, snaking an arm around her trembling waist and pulling her towards his solid torso as she was almost on the verge of slipping.
Catherine's eyes widened in shock as she felt her cheeks turn scarlet. "I'm sorry for hitting you earlier on the sidewalk, Mr. Walton." She stammered again, cringing her face back to put some distance between them.
Mr. Walton ignored her attempt to move away and leaned in so that his lips were near her ear. Where is that temper of yours, Miss? I'm running late. Do I make you feel uncomfortable? "Who do you know who I was now that you know who I was?"He trailed off.
"Or better yet, are you planning on writing your resignation letter?" He whispered as Catherine felt her throat go dry. 
She scowled and opened her mouth to defend herself, but she remembered that he was, after all, the new boss, so she just nodded and turned around to leave. He grinned before dismissing her once again, leaving her very disturbed with his statement.
Catherine was swearing to every known god on the planet two hours later for the existence of the being known as Sean Dickhead Walton.Not only was the guy rude and arrogant, but he was also the definition of a man who knows it all. Overbearing self-proclaims the god of all gods and goddesses. But well, it's hot as hell nevertheless!
The meeting was indeed tiresome, and she zoomed out for almost half of it.
Lunchtime passed by with no actual lunch. She had a bundle of data to compile by 4:00 pm, so Catherine ate the single leftover sandwich from this morning and typed single-handedly. Where was the cup of coffee when she needed it most? She murmured. 
When she was finished, with five minutes to spare, she gathered all the files with one hand and hurled them onto her desk to finish tomorrow. With that, she stood up and trudged out the door, slamming it shut on her way out. Her day was done, and it exhausted her like hell. She sighed, thinking about the new boss. The bus ride took an hour, which gave her enough time to rest her mind and her eyes, waiting for the bus to come while snacking on her savory turkey sandwiches from the subway. 
Why does he look so familiar? Even his scent was familiar. Where did she meet him before? With that thought and the chilling wind outside, Catherine knew for sure a ride from home wasn't any better. She'd threaded her way in and out of the stream. She felt alone in this throng. She felt like she did not belong here. She felt unwanted! 
Closing her eyes inside the bus, she seemed detached from the world. With a stretch and a yawn, Catherine fell asleep, and for an unknown reason, she felt like someone snuggled right into her. Her dreams were always the same. She could recall the flat shade of blue-grey hue of his eyes the last time he scowled at her; the glow was striking against the background of his pale skin with his dark copper hair. Today, his eyes were a different hue: a strange amber, but with the same blue-grey tone.