My Secretary’s Real-Life Business Game Chapter 2

Vince's pursuit began with a bouquet of roses.

I walked into the office one morning to find a massive bouquet of red roses on Anna's desk. The aggressively, almost tackily red kind.

Anna hadn't arrived yet.

Colleagues from the surrounding desks were whispering.

"Wow, who sent those?"

"Has to be Vince. It's not like he's subtle."

"That's gotta be ninety-nine roses, right? He's really going all out."

I listened and shook my head. This kind of grand gesture might work on a fresh-faced intern, but it felt like he was trying way too hard.

At nine o'clock on the dot, Anna arrived.

She saw the flowers and paused for a beat, her face a blank canvas. No surprise, no blush, nothing.

She stood there for a single second, then walked around the bouquet, sat down in her chair, turned on her computer, and brewed her tea. Her movements were fluid, practiced.

It was as if the flowers were just an oddly shaped humidifier.

Vince chose that moment to wander over from the sales department, two cups of coffee in hand.

He placed them on her desk, his smile blindingly bright. "Morning, Anna. Do you like the flowers? I was passing by a florist this morning, and they just seemed so you."

A smooth line. Not a premeditated purchase, just a spontaneous "passing by" thought.

The entire office was craning their necks, watching the show.

Anna lifted her eyes and looked at him.

"Thank you, but I don't like roses. I'm allergic to pollen."

Her voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.

Vince's smile froze. "Oh. Allergic? I'm... I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

"It's fine," Anna said, taking a sip from her own mug. "Also, I don't drink coffee. Only tea."

The look on Vince's face went from awkward to mortified.

He just stood there, completely at a loss.

Anna, having delivered her statement, went back to her emails, not sparing him another glance.

I was watching from my glass-walled office, trying my best not to laugh out loud.

This girl was interesting.

She wasn't playing hard to get, nor was she delivering a dramatic rejection.

She was... simply stating facts.

I don't like them. I'm allergic. I don't drink that.

There was no emotion, no accusation, but it was more devastating than any angry tirade could ever be.

Vince clearly hadn't anticipated this. He let out a weak chuckle, trying to save face.

"Well... what should I do with the flowers, then? It's a shame to throw them out."

Anna didn't even look up. "The front desk could probably use them."

The receptionist loved decorating her desk with flowers.

Vince's face cycled through shades of red and white. In the end, he had no choice but to awkwardly scoop up the massive bouquet and, under the stifled laughter of his colleagues, deliver them to the front desk.

I thought that would be the end of it.

But then, at lunch, Vince reappeared.

He carried his tray straight to Anna's table and sat down opposite her.

"Anna, I'm sorry about this morning. I was being pushy. I just think you're a really great person, and I'd like to be friends."

Anna was in the middle of eating a piece of broccoli. She looked up.

"Aren't we already colleagues?"

Another direct hit. Vince was speechless.

She was right. Aren't colleagues a type of friend? What other kind of "friend" was he trying to be?

I sat a few tables away, watching Vince's constipated expression, and thought for the first time that maybe my "coasting" assistant wasn't really coasting at all.

She just couldn't be bothered to entertain pointless people and their pointless games.