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a d   l i b i t u m

[Lat.] : At the performer's pleasure; sometimes means a passage may be omitted.

I GENERALLY CONSIDERED myself an adaptable person. When Rosemary left Dad, dismissing the house help and all the luxuries living with her had brought us, I quickly got used to doing the chores at home while Dad started the gardening business. When Dad couldn't pay the bills after helping my uncle, who had been and still was heavily in debt, and our electricity had been shut down, I used a candle as my light source to study.

But working at a new company merely three weeks after having worked at Collins, Lee, Aisling & Assoc. proved to be rather overwhelming. Especially when it Bretton Industries – a company far bigger than the law firm ever was. It took grand and luxurious to a whole new level altogether, a fact that I was fast realising as I stood in front of the multi-storey building.

Gazing up, I found that I could hardy see the top of the building without flinching from the glare of the sunlight overhead. This was the place I was to be working at from now on. Nolan had, upon Kaden's orders, begrudgingly told me everything there was to know about the company.

This was headquarters; there were other manufacturing and shipping outlets and factories all over the country. As personal assistant, I was to receive calls on Kaden's behalf, plan his schedule and answer his emails. It seemed daunting to me, but somehow manageable if I tried my best.

And believe me, I was going to. I was well aware that people were probably going to look at me with jaundiced eyes, given the fact that I didn't even hold a degree and was already assisting one of the most influential men in the country.

Taking a deep breath, I hitched my workbag higher up my shoulder and headed into the building. Security let me through after I had shown them my employee card and I went towards the lobby. My hands nervously clutched at the paper bag I was carrying as I waited for the lift. If the atmosphere at the law firm had seemed more relaxed, the atmosphere here was tense and driven. Everyone here seemed on edge, like every minute spent waiting for the lift was a waste of money that they could've been making.

I squeezed my way into the crowded lift. As the lift went higher up and more people dispersed to their respective floors, I noticed that the remaining employees in the lift were beginning to give me odd glances. It made me fidget, glancing anxiously down at myself.

My attire probably stood out, I supposed. I was donned in a navy blue dress with chic white buttons that I found classy, but clearly wasn't working here when everyone was in their stiffest, most formal attire. Then again, I'd dressed the same way I did at my previous job and Nolan never mentioned a dress code to me.

"Wear whatever you like," Nolan had told me, before grinning impishly. "Better yet – "

But then he was cut off when Parker smacked him on the head. I had laughed then, but I certainly wasn't laughing now. I was nervous, to say the least.

When I finally arrived at the highest floor, I stepped out after the two other people who got out of the lift ahead of me. I watched them head briskly towards the left wing and so I followed, feeling rather lost because Nolan hadn't told me exactly where Kaden's office was. Eventually, I gathered my wits about me and proceeded to ask the nearest person I saw sitting at her desk.

She looked at me like I had sprouted three heads, as did the other people nearby who had overheard my question. "Do you have an appointment with Mr Bretton?"

"No. I'm actually working for him. I'm his personal assistant."

Her eyes widened and I could practically feel the atmosphere all abuzz with curiosity. The lady seemed at a loss for words and would've continued gaping had not a familiar voice cut through the tension with clipped detachment.

"Didn't Nolan tell you that my office was in the east wing?"

I whirled round immediately. Kaden was standing a short distance behind me, his features completely impassive and his stance formidable, dressed in an immaculate black suit. His hair was slicked back in what seemed like an effortless, tousled manner, instead of falling roguishly into his eyes like they usually did. His eyes gave my outfit a cursory glance but his face betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

I wanted to smile, I wanted to greet him. Really, I did, but he looked so hostile that I almost wanted to glance away. Instead, I walked up to him and ducked my head, blushing as I was well aware of the many inquisitive gazes on us. "Nolan must've forgotten to tell me."

He didn't respond. Spinning on his heel quickly, he headed towards his office and I trailed after him, feeling rather on edge with everything and with everyone. No one seemed particularly friendly here, least of all him.

Once in the east wing, he paused in front of a small alcove, where a mahogany desk stood, complete with a full set of stationery, several charging points embedded within the table, a brand new laptop and a plush leather armchair. My mouth fell open at the sheer extravagance. Everything seemed incredibly expensive, to say the least.

"This is where you'll be working," he muttered, before going towards the door located several metres away from my desk. "I'll call you if necessary."

Then he headed into his office without another word, shutting the door firmly behind him. His abrupt departure left me feeling rather dazed, but I quickly recovered and set my workbag down on the table, along with the paper bag that I'd prepared for him.

I faltered for awhile, wondering if it was the wisest choice to disturb him – or even talk to him, for that matter. I was pretty much resigned to the fact that I was going to constantly be walking on eggshells around him.

Shoving the thought firmly aside, I took out the two coffee cups and sandwiches I'd made earlier that morning. Setting aside one cup and sandwich for myself, I balanced the other set in hand and went over to his door, knocking gently on it.

"Kaden?"

"What do you want?" came his almost abrasive reply. A part of me was faintly bemused, the other half of me anxious.

Steeling myself, I twisted the brass handle and stepped inside. My eyes widened the moment I caught a glimpse of his office. It was sheer luxury, furnished from the floor to ceiling with what seemed like top grade materials. It made Parker's office look like a pig's sty in comparison and my lips almost twitched in amusement at the thought of that.

Kaden was seated at his desk, his figure every bit imposing and unrelenting. He had his laptop propped open in front of him, files and paperwork piled in immaculate stacks on his desk and he didn't raise his head to acknowledge me at all.

I swallowed nervously and strode quickly towards him. "I made you coffee and a sandwich," I told him, secretly wondering if he remembered the time I made coffee for him. I'd made it the afternoon after making the sandwiches with Michelle. And I had made this sandwich the same way Michelle taught me months ago. "I'm not sure if you still drink your coffee the same way you did, so if you need more sugar or cream I have some outside."

He ignored me and continued typing. Stifling a sigh, I simply set the coffee and sandwich down on his table before making my way out of the office. I was just about to leave when a flash of bright, royal blue caught my eye and I paused, my head swivelling over to where the windows were.

The windows here were vastly similar to the windows back in the Brettons' beach house, stretching across the length of the room, with a broad ledge running beneath it, wide enough to sit on. But unlike the open windows back in his room, these ones had curtains pulled firmly across them. There was only one curtain propped open slightly, a sliver of light sifting through and that was what made me stare.

Because, sitting on the ledge, was the pot of Forget-Me-Nots I'd asked Edwin to give to him so long ago, with the same paper of instructions I'd taped to the side of the pot.

The flowers were in full bloom.

Sudden tears stung the back of my eyes, but these were tears of relief and hardly of sadness. It had to mean something, didn't it? It had to mean something that he'd kept the plant with him all this while and had taken such good care of it.

I took a shuddering breath and glanced over at Kaden, only to realise that he'd been watching me intently all this while. But when I met his eyes, he immediately looked away, his lips curling in what seemed like mild disgust.

"I guess I can get rid of that since I've found you," he sounded sardonic. "I'll get someone to dispose of that later."

"Please don't," my reply came far too quickly, the words spilling past my lips before I could stop myself. "I'll take care of it if you won't."

There was a pause as Kaden's gaze landed on me for a brief moment. For a moment, his gaze seemed probing, but then he returned his attention to his laptop. "Do what you want with it," he returned dismissively.

I didn't hesitate. Crossing the room, I picked up the pot and cradled it tightly between my hands. It smelled of everything sweet and fresh. I brushed the tears away from my eyes with the back of my hand but found myself unable to look over at Kaden without completely breaking down. I headed for the door but paused just before stepping out.

"Thank you," I choked out softly, but loud enough for him to hear, and wished with all my heart that he could see the difference between the lies I told and the truth I thought.

And that this, this was the truth.

"Thank you for not forgetting about me."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

I was more than surprised to see a woman waiting near my desk when I stepped out of Kaden's office. She was gorgeous; her blond hair coiffed to perfection and her svelte figure clad in a dress suit. The moment she saw me, she smiled, dimples appearing on her cheeks.

"Hi, Isla," she greeted, coming forward to grasp my hand in a warm handshake. I balanced the pot of Forget-Me-Nots in one hand and shook her hand with the other. "I'm Stella Banks, the chief administration officer here. Mr Bretton asked me to teach you the ropes for your job. It's fairly simple, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it quickly."

Her name struck a chord in my memory. Setting down the flowerpot on my desk, I frowned and wracked my brains for a brief moment before recalling where I heard her name. She was the one who had thrown the charity ball on my sixteenth birthday.

"You're Parker's friend." She began to frown in confusion and I hastened to explain, "from secondary school? He mentioned you a couple of times."

Her eyes lit in recognition. "Yes, I'm surprised he talked about me. Are you his – "

"Friend," I offered and smiled. "It's really nice to meet you."

"You too, Isla. So let's get started, shall we?"

I nodded and she proceeded to explain my job to me. Nolan had already given me the main gist of it, but Stella went into details. She showed me templates of emails, the kinds of formalities I needed to use when replying to them and how to work the intercom.

"To be honest," she confided to me, after she'd finished explaining, "no one's ever held this position before. Before you, there was no personal assistant. Mr Bretton's always forwarded his emails over to admin and we've always answered them for him. He answers all the calls he gets, or diverts them down to us."

"What about his schedule?" I asked just as she was about to leave, remembering how Nolan had told me that it was part of my job as well.

Stella's kohl-rimmed eyes widened and she paused. "You have to plan his schedule?" She repeated, sounding somewhat flustered. "He didn't tell me anything about that. He's always planned his own schedule so far, so I'm afraid you'll have to clarify that with him."

She bade me a quick goodbye and hurried off to go back to her work. It wasn't until after she left that I realised how Kaden probably had a tough time at work. It was clear to see that he took on many things himself – emails and business calls and schedules; apart from his normal workload. Even Parker had people in his firm to help him. And now it made sense, why Kaden had once said that he hadn't much time to watch tv shows or do the things he loved.

Propping open my laptop, I got to work. I filed paperwork, answered a ton of emails, forwarding them to Stella so that she could double check before sending them out. Since it was my first day of work, she told me that I didn't need to answer phone calls. So each time the phone rang, I simply diverted the calls to the lower floors.

When lunchtime came, Stella took me out to lunch. "Mr Bretton's orders," she added, with a sly, knowing smile of her own.

A sudden rush of gratitude welled up in me and I wondered if Kaden had done that on purpose, knowing that I didn't know anyone here on my first day and asking Stella to take me under her wing.

I cast a quick glance over at Kaden's door, which had stayed shut all this while. "Is he going for lunch?"

Stella's eyes followed the direction of my gaze and she shook her head adamantly. "Doubt it. He seldom leaves his office and he has food delivered to him anyway. I've heard the people on this level say that he skips lunch sometimes when he gets too busy. I think today's one of those days. It's best not to bother him."

Reluctantly, I left with her. I was fast beginning to understand the dynamics of the company here. Kaden was closed-off, a complete mystery to his employees. My chest tightened at the thought of that, and for a moment, I wondered if he ever felt lonely.

Maybe he felt lonely a lot.

Lunch passed in a pleasing fashion. Stella honestly didn't seem to mind me tagging along with her and her colleagues. Everyone was cordial but somewhat detached, adopting the kind of polite demeanour one usually had when meeting a stranger. I missed Jeanette and Brent and the others back at the law firm dreadfully.

And so, I ate as quickly as I could, excusing myself once I was done and headed back to the office with the takeaway I'd ordered for Kaden on the way back. Somehow, even though Kaden was giving me the cold shoulder, I couldn't help but feel far more comfortable with his stony silence.

When I returned, I knocked firmly on his door twice, patiently waiting for him to respond. Several seconds passed before he asked me to enter, in the hostile voice I was fast becoming used to hearing.

With a bright smile on my face, I went in and shut the door after me. I paused when I realised he was on the phone, his voice the kind of arid and detached he used for business calls and – as I had come to realise – me.

He cut an imposing, tall figure as he leant against his desk, one arm braced out behind him with his palm flat against the table. He didn't glance my way until he ended the call several minutes later. And then the look he shot me was positively aggravated.

"What?"

I faltered, briefly, before holding up the paper bag of takeaway food. "Have you had – "

"Yes," he cut me off before I could even finish speaking. But he wasn't looking at me any longer; instead, he seemed to be distracted, his thumbs tapping busily on the flat screen of his phone.

"You didn't even hear my question."

"I knew what you were going to ask. And I don't need any of these half-hearted acts of kindness you're trying to pull on me. Keep that up and I might actually start to think you care."

His tone was indifferent but his words cut straight to my heart. He was right to be suspicious but I couldn't stop a surge of indignation rising up in me.

"Haven't you ever thought that maybe I do?

"Sometimes, but then I remember that you're one hell of an actress," he returned pointedly.

The guilt I felt was once again crushing and tears stung the back of my eyelids. I wanted to apologise again and again and maybe a million times more, but there was something definitive in his voice that made me realise he wasn't going to buy my apologies anymore.

Taking a shuddering breath, I walked over, well aware that he was watching me with caution in his eyes, and placed the bag of food down on his table.

"Believe it or not, some things can't be acted out. I couldn't kiss you the way I did and not have any feelings for you."

His gaze sharpened at my words and I knew that he remembered clearly what he had said so long ago, and he knew that I remembered it too. But a part of me didn't want to hear his reply because disappointment was often a negative emotion that piled up and made one feel empty inside.

So I spun on my heels and headed out of the room, shutting the door behind me.