Being a Roy's assistant wasn't the best job, even less so being Roman Roy's assistant. But you needed money, and he paid good money.

He always had you doing odd jobs. Getting things from across the city for him, shopping for him, doing things you had no business doing as his assistant, tolerating his borderline sexual harassment, all for a paycheck.

You get woken up by a call. Roman. You glance at the clock. 2 am. Goddamnit. Apparently he needs some files that he left in his office, and you have to get them. You throw on a coat on top of your pajamas, driving to the office first, getting the files, then to his penthouse.

You enter his home office, slightly out of breath. "Here are the files you asked for, Roman." You huff, plopping the folders onto his desk. He glances at them, and then promptly looks away. "Right. I don't need those anymore." He says dismissively.

You feel something in your brain snap. Your brain gives you two options, kill him, which will definitely get you arrested, or yell at him and get fired. You choose the latter.

You don't even know how long you yell at him, hurling every insult that had popped into your head the entire time you worked for him. "-And that's why you'll never amount to anything, you pathetic, repulsive, silk-tight little fuck!" You spit, your chest heaving from the effort of yelling for however many minutes.

You expect him to spit out a snarky one-liner and fire you, but he doesn't. He just sits there, his eyes averted, squirming in his chair like a scolded puppy. Was he... blushing?

"Look at me." You command, taking a risk, and he obeys. "Did you hear what I said?"

He swallows, not daring to look away. "Y-Yea." He stutters.