Tying the knot with Mr. Perfect

"In the world of business, there is only one company that specializes in restructuring and stands out the most," Pheobe declared, her voice booming like a TV announcer, her hands gesturing dramatically as she sat in the sleek, modern lobby of APEX Ventures. "A-P-E-X Ventures," she spelled out, each letter punctuated by a flourish of her hand. "A for Ascendant, P for Pinnacle, E for Enterprises, and X for Xceptional."

Jojo watched, a grin spreading across her face, as Pheobe launched into the story of the company's origins, her eyes shining with enthusiasm.

"APEX Ventures was created by a man known as the Hand of God," Pheobe said, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if sharing a secret. "And who is this man?" she asked, pausing for dramatic effect.

She leaned forward, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "They say he's a visionary, a mastermind who can turn any failing business into a goldmine. They say he's ruthless, cunning, and always one step ahead of the game." Pheobe's eyes sparkled with excitement as she spoke, her words painting a picture of a man shrouded in mystery and intrigue.

"He is none other than Gerald Sullivan," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Mr. Sullivan is the second son of the prestigious Kings Group. At the tender age of 22, he boldly left his father's company to forge his own path and founded APEX Ventures. Over time, he strategically expanded his portfolio by acquiring struggling companies across various industries, masterfully turning them around, and transforming them into thriving subsidiaries. This remarkable talent earned him the revered nickname 'Hand of God,' as any company he acquired would inevitably flourish, regardless of its previous state of bankruptcy or distress."

Pheobe's eyes sparkled as she continued, "By the age of 28, he had already become the youngest billionaire, a testament to his unparalleled business acumen. And as if fate had blessed him with an abundance of gifts, he also possessed chiseled good looks, a captivating physique, and a voice that could mesmerize any woman, leaving them utterly enchanted."

"Your boss is really cool," Jojo said, her eyes sparkling with admiration as she recalled the one time she watched his interview. "I once watched an interview where he spoke about his company, and I must say, he's not only intelligent and charismatic, but also incredibly good-looking, with a deep, husky voice that's simply captivating." She added, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

Pheobe let out a snort of laughter, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "If only his behavior was as good as his looks," she sighed, a hint of irony in her tone. "Do you know what we call him here?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Jojo shook her head, her curiosity piqued. "No, what do you call him?" she asked, her voice eager to know the answer.

"Mr. Perfect," Pheobe whispered to Jojo, her voice barely audible, as if sharing a secret. "He believes he's perfect, and when someone makes a mistake, he'll say..." She mimicked Gerald's deep, husky voice, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "'YOU ARE OUT!'"

Jojo's eyes widened in shock. "Out? As in fired?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

Pheobe nodded solemnly, her expression serious. "Yes, fired. And that's not all. I haven't told you how he hates people standing very close to him, especially ladies. He has this...personal space thing, and if you get too close, he'll make you feel like you're invading his territory."

Jojo's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "So, how close is too close?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement.

Pheobe held up her hands, palms facing Jojo, as if warding her off. "Stay 10 meters away, no, 50 meters away, just to be careful. Trust me, you don't want to get too close to Mr. Perfect's personal bubble. He'll make you feel like you're suffocating him."

Jojo's eyes widened in disbelief as she shook her head, her ponytail swishing behind her. "Are you serious?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "You're telling me that if someone annoys him, or if he simply doesn't like the way they look, they're out of a job?"

Pheobe nodded nonchalantly, her eyes fixed on her coffee cup as she took a sip. "Yes, that's right. He's very particular about who works for him. And if you don't meet his standards, you're gone."

Jojo's brow furrowed in confusion. "But if he's that problematic, why do you guys hire new workers every month? I mean, I see youngsters rushing to work for him every day."

Pheobe's hand jerked, causing her coffee cup to clatter against the table. "We hire new workers every month because he fires them at the end of every month," she said, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. "But people still apply to work for him because of the pay. It's...substantial, to say the least."

Jojo's eyes widened further, her mind racing with the implications. "So, you're saying that people are willing to put up with his behavior for a paycheck?"

Pheobe's expression turned sheepish, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I must admit, the pay is one thing that's keeping me here too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not ideal, but it's a job, and it pays well. And sometimes, that's all that matters."

Jojo let out a deep sigh, her eyes filled with concern. "My friend, how have you been able to survive your crazy boss?" she asked, her voice laced with empathy.

Pheobe chuckled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Very easy, my friend. Stay very, very far away from him. I mean, don't even let him know you exist in the company." She shared her escape remedy, her voice laced with a hint of humor. "That's the only way you can survive and have peace of mind in this company for a very long time."

Jojo's eyes widened, her mind racing with the implications.

"You should also avoid him when you see him," Pheobe warned, her expression turning serious. "Nothing good comes out of having an encounter with him." She cautioned her dear friend, who didn't work in the company but might one day cross paths with her psychopathic boss. Just then, her gaze fell on a small bandage on Jojo's forehead. "What happened to your head?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern, pointing gently at the bandage.

"Ah," Jojo said, her fingers gently touching the bandaged spot on her forehead. "I got this while on set."

Pheobe let out a sigh, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "Again? When will you stop playing double for Binnie?" she asked, her voice laced with worry. She had seen her dear friend suffer one injury after another, all for the sake of acting as a double for the popular actress.

But Jojo just laughed it off, a carefree smile spreading across her face. "My contract with Binnie is ending tomorrow," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "So, after tomorrow, I'll stop acting as a double for her and start being myself." She couldn't wait for tomorrow to come, eager to start a new phase of her life, free from the risks and injuries that came with being a double.

"Please do," Pheobe said, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. "It's about time you get your own fame," she added, picking up her now empty coffee cup. "Wait here, I'll go refill my cup." With that, she stood up and walked over to the coffee machine, leaving Jojo alone at the table.

Jojo watched her friend go, then pulled out her phone to check if she had any new messages. But instead of messages, she saw newly uploaded photos of Binnie, the actress she had been working as a double for. She sighed as she scrolled through the photos, feeling a mix of frustration and longing. Why was it that Binnie got all the fame and recognition, while she was just a behind-the-scenes double?

Just then, Jojo noticed a commotion around the lobby. The workers began to clear the way, some instantly getting to their feet as they rushed away from where they were sitting.

"What's going on?" She asked, her curiosity piqued as she watched the workers scattering in all directions, clearing a path as if a president or dignitary was about to arrive. She got up from her seat to get a better view, wondering who could be causing such a commotion. That's when she heard the murmurs - "Mr. Perfect is coming."

"Mr. Perfect?" Jojo repeated, her eyes scanning the room in confusion.

Just as she was about to turn back to her seat, a worker rushing to get out of the way bumped into her, causing Jojo's phone to slip from her hand and fall to the floor. Before she could even react, another worker, equally frantic, kicked her phone, sending it sliding across the floor. "Hey!" Jojo sighed, exasperated, as she went to pick up her phone.

Pheobe returned with her refilled cup, expecting to see Jojo still seated at their table, but instead, she was nowhere to be found. Her eyes scanned the lobby, and that's when she saw Jojo, standing in the direct path of the approaching Mr. Perfect. The workers were all agog, their mouths hanging open in a mixture of shock and terror, as they frantically gestured to Jojo to move out of the way.

But Jojo was completely oblivious to the frantic signals and gestures the workers were sending her way, her attention fixed on the cracked screen of her phone as she let out a frustrated sigh. "Seriously, of all times," she muttered to herself, unaware of the impending doom that was about to befall her.

But then, something caught her eye - a worker frantically waving at her to move away.

With her phone still clutched in her hand, she slowly turned to face the figure standing in front of her, her eyes gradually traveling up the length of his tall, imposing frame. He stood over six feet tall, a towering giant compared to her petite five-foot-four stature. His dark, almost black hair was styled perfectly, framing his chiseled features and accentuating his piercing gaze.

As her eyes met his, Jojo was struck by the sharp definition of his neatly carved brow, which seemed to be etched with a hint of disapproval. His nose was pointed, giving him a slightly aristocratic air, and his lips... oh, his lips were a work of art. Shaped like a Cupid's bow, they seemed to curve upward in a perpetual hint of a smile, as if he held a secret joke that only he understood.

And she was transfixed, her eyes locked on the figure before her as if magnetized by an unseen force. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was about him that held her so captivated - was it the rugged features that seemed chiseled from the very earth itself, as if the gods had hewn him from the granite of the mountains? Or was it the sharp jawline that seemed to jut out in defiance, a challenge to anyone who dared approach him? Perhaps it was the piercing gaze that seemed to bore into her very soul, a gaze that was both mesmerizing and intimidating in its intensity.

Whatever the reason, Jojo was powerless to look away, her eyes drinking in the sight of him as if she were a parched traveler stumbling upon an oasis in the desert. And then, without even realizing it, the words escaped her lips in a barely audible whisper: "He's handsome." She didn't even know she had spoken aloud, so lost was she in the glory of his face. It was as if her very breath had been taken from her, leaving her gasping in wonder at the sheer magnificence of this stranger.

Jojo felt his gaze raking over her like a slow-burning fire, sizing her up from head to toe, then back again, as if trying to memorize every inch of her. She squirmed under the intensity of his scrutiny, her face growing hotter by the second.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, his low, husky voice whispered, "Who are you?" - a question that jolted her back to her senses like a defibrillator shocking her heart back to life.

Jojo blinked, her mind racing like a hamster on a wheel. "I... I... uh..." she stuttered, her brain struggling to form coherent thoughts. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she found the right answer - or so she thought. "I don't work here... hehe!" she chirped, her voice inexplicably rising to a high-pitched squeak, as if she were singing a cartoon theme song. She had no idea why her voice had betrayed her like that, but there it was, hanging in the air like a helium balloon.

A low, derisive snort escaped Gerald's lips as he gazed at the little woman standing before him, his eyes lingering on her phone-clutching hand and her bewildered expression. It was as if he was sizing her up, and finding her wanting. Then, his attention shifted to his secretary, his voice low and calm, but with a hint of irritation lurking beneath the surface. "Where is the Security in Charge?" he asked, his words dripping with a quiet authority that brooked no argument.

Jojo's lips twitched, her eyes darting nervously between Gerald and his secretary, as if anticipating the worst. Was she about to get kicked out?

"Sir," a middle-aged man in a security uniform rushed to where they were, his eyes fixed on Gerald with a mixture of fear and respect. He maintained a safe distance, as if Gerald was a wild animal that might pounce at any moment, and bowed respectfully.

Gerald, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, gazed at the man with a hint of disdain, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, it was you who let in this evil spirit into our premises."

Jojo's eyes widened in confusion, her finger pointing to herself as if to confirm her own identity. "E... evil spirit? Me?" she asked, her voice squeaking in disbelief. She looked around, half-expecting to see a dark cloud hovering over her head, or a pointed tail sprouting from her backside. "I think there's been a mistake," she added, her tone laced with a hint of humor, as if she was trying to diffuse the tension.

Gerald's expression remained stern, his eyes narrowed as if daring Jojo to deny the accusation further.

"I'm sorry, Sir," the security guard hastily apologized, his bow deepening, his eyes fixed on the floor as if searching for forgiveness.

But Gerald was unforgiving. "Save the apology, you're out," he dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand, his eyes already moving away from the scene.

But Jojo was not about to let him off that easily. She stepped forward, her small frame blocking his path, her eyes flashing with a fierce determination. "Are you firing him because of me?" she demanded, her gaze darting to the middle-aged man, who looked like he was about to collapse from shame. "Aren't you being too harsh?" she confronted, her voice firm but laced with a hint of empathy.

The workers watched in awe, their mouths agape, as Jojo stood up to the almighty Mr. Perfect. They whispered among themselves, their eyes wide with wonder. "Did she just...?" "Is she crazy?" "Wow, she's got guts!" The whispers spread like wildfire, but Jojo didn't notice. She was too focused on Gerald, her eyes locked on his, daring him to respond.

"I think I'm being too kind by letting a little rat like you stand in front of me and tell me shit," Gerald sneered, his deep, husky voice dripping with venom as he gazed at Jojo with a disgust so palpable it made her skin crawl. He turned to walk away, leaving Jojo seething with rage.

"Little rat?" She repeated, her voice trembling with anger as she laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. She was furious, her eyes blazing with a fire that threatened to consume her. And then, in a move that surprised even herself, she reached down and pulled off the sneaker on her right foot. With a swift, precise motion, she hurled it at Gerald's retreating figure.

The workers gasped collectively, their eyes following the trajectory of Jojo's shoe as it sailed through the air and hit their boss' head with a resounding thud. He stumbled, almost losing his balance, as Jojo's shoe bounced off his skull and clattered to the floor.

"Take that, you obnoxious jerk!" Jojo declared, her head held high, her eyes flashing with defiance as she glared at the man she had just assaulted with her footwear. The workers were stunned, their mouths agape, as they struggled to process the sheer audacity of Jojo's actions.