The light streaming through his apartments drapes was the only thing that brings the cocooned form out of his slumber.
Steve stretches out, sighing in content before a cold dread of realisation slowly dawns on him.
He turns to look at the alarm clock with the red flashing numbers reading 12:00 just proving the point that he is well an truly fucked if he doesn't get out of bed right this second.
It's with that in mind that he mutters a mouthful of curses that would make his mother shove a bar of soap down his throat as he springs up from the bed, darting across the room into the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth and make his hair somewhat presentable.
Tugging his suit off the hanger in the closest, he makes fast work of pulling it on in record time.
Fastening his tie, he grabs his briefcase, rushing out the door.
'So late, so fucking late', is all that runs through his mind.
The thought of skipping the coffee shop races through his mind before he shakes those deadly thoughts from his head.
He knows that if he doesn't get the coffee he may as well dig his own grave instead of turning up to work empty-handed.
He makes a beeline across the street, almost getting splattered by angry New York drivers.
Throwing a few apologies over his shoulder, he ambles through the coffee shop doors just to stop in his tracks in panic when he sees how long the line is.
He releases a wounded animal sound and whimpers in defeat, receiving a few stares from other coffee shops patrons in return.
"Steve!"
His head whips up at his name being called, eyes landing on the friendly barista Sandy, waving at him to come to the front of the line.
He mutters a few apologies as he pushes through the throng of people in line until he reaches Sandy, who's holding two fresh cups of steaming coffee cups in her hands with a huge smile on her face.
"Sandy! You literally just saved my life...you have no idea" he breathes out in relief.
After thanking Sandy profusely, he sprints out of the coffee shop.
Wasting no time, he sets off in a life or death run to the office down the block.
Although he looks like a large maniac running down the streets of New York like a bull is chasing him.
The people were unrelenting in making way for him, causing him to push through people muttering half-hearted excuses and throwing sorry's over his shoulder until he finally reaches the entrance of the building.
The tall building was, even more intimidating today than it usually is with large gold letter hanging over the entrance, 'King York Publishing'.
The countries most prestigious publishing company. It is the publishing company that the world is speaking about and everyone fights tooth and nail to just get a job interview here, let alone be lucky enough to secure a position.
It's not the fact that he'd fought like a caged animal to earn the job of securing the title of an executive assistant to the head of publishing that has him shaking in dread.
No, it was something else entirely.
It was the fact that he works for the spawn of Satan himself.
Chief Editor, Billy Hargrove.
You see, Hargrove is the most cold-hearted, emotionally deprived man to ever walk this earth.
Well, at least that's Steve's opinion.
He slams into the Elevator as though he's a bull in a china shop, just in time before the doors slide shut.
"Everyone okay?" He asks, receiving a chorus of Yes' in reply.
"Me too" He breathes.
He takes the time to catch his breath and to calm his nerves.
The coffee in his is hands shaking with each tremor rushing through his body.
"It's one of those days" he mutters, noticing the sympathetic looks he's receiving.
When the elevator arrives at his floor, he shoves his way through the half-opened doors, weaving through the crowd of employees making their way around as he heads for Hargrove's office.
People make way for him as he hurries through the corridors because they know that it must be hell working for the Chief Editor.
No one really knows much about Chief Editor, Billy Hargrove.
Except for the fact that he was raised from the deepest depths of hell as a reincarnation of Satan himself, to make everyone who works at King York Publishing lives a living travesty.
There are only a few people who know minor details about Mr Hargrove's life, and those that do, know to keep their mouths sealed tightly shut.
Billy Hargrove is an incredibly talented Chief Editor, who graduated with a Masters Degree from University at the age of 25.
He immigrated from Canada to New York, shortly after graduating university with an editing and business degree under his belt.
Although Billy is a nightmare to work for, no one could deny that he is a talented and brilliant businessman. Who shot the company up the ranks until they were at the top of the publishing industry.
Now Steve himself couldn't compete with Billy Hargrove.
He was just a 23-year-old, Executive Assistant for a successful man.
Although if anything, all he feels like is a puppet for his boss to play with, by making him run around doing various errands like a chicken without a head.
He did not agree to this, not at all when he took the job.
"Steve! You're cutting it very close!" The receptionist, Barbara, hisses at him over the receiver of the phone.
He sighs, looking at her as he walks past.
"It's one of those morning's Barb...and thanks captain obvious," he says cheekily, before turning around crashing straight into the back of another employee pulling a filing trolley.
His hands instinctively tighten around the coffee cups upon impact, causing the cup to crush under the strength of his grip, sending the hot liquid all across his crisp white shirt, effectively rendering it ruined.
"Sweet Jesus!" He yells, looking down at himself, then at the man with fury and dread in his eyes once he realizes that the coffee that has gone everywhere, was, in fact, Billy's coffee.
All around him employees murmur in a mixed chorus of pity and amusement for Steve, who is now well and truly screwed.
Muttering a long string of curses that would have sent a nun to her grave, he throws the crushed coffee cop into the bin.
Taking extra care with the last coffee in his hands as though it was a delicate Artifact.
He changes course, quickly making his way over to his best friend Nick.
"I need the shirt off your back literally!"
Nick looks up at him from the ball he's playing with.
"Your kidding right" he quips, looking Steve up and down taking in the flavor shirt.
Steve groans in pain.
"Patriots vs Seahawks, this Saturday, two company seats, for your shirt. You have exactly five seconds to decide...5...4...3...2...1".
Nick quickly accepts the offer and makes quick work with swapping their shirts, knowing fully well how hard it is for his best friend to give up Patriot tickets.
Just as he finishes the last button of his new shirt, he hears the telltale message tone of everyone's computers going off, that sends his blood running cold with dread.
The office gets sent into a flurry of motion once everyone has received the message.
It's here!
Wasting no time, he sprints into Hargrove's office, getting everything into order, before standing a few meters in front of Billy's desk with the coffee in his hands as though he was waiting to be executed.
By the time the elevators doors open and out steps Satan himself.
Everyone in the office looks as though they are working hard instead of mucking around like they were five minutes ago.
Billy was a breathtaking sight to behold.
At the age of 32, a young man with short blonde hair styled perfectly, cleanly shaved and ocean blue eyes that held an aura of power and authority.
Billy moves gracefully towards his office dressed in a perfectly tailored black Armani suit.
The eyes of his employees following his every step.
Steve won't lie.
In another life, he could see himself being good friends with Billy.
Maybe even something more, but alas that wasn't the case here.
It was simple, Billy Hargrove has no soul.
Billy's expensive dress shoes click on the floor and then he's stepping into his office, gaze falling upon his assistant with a bored stare, snatching his coffee without so much as a thank you.
"Harrington" He addresses.
Sitting down at his desk, he pulls out the latest manuscripts from his desk.
"Good Morning, Mr Hargrove" Steve replies, planting on a big smile as he grabs his phone to go over Billy's schedule for the day.
"I just want to remind you. You have a meeting at nine. I called Naomi and informed her that if she doesn't get her manuscript in on time, then you won't give her a release date"
He goes over a few more things his boss needs to do, before glancing at Billy.
"You're Immigration lawyer called, he requested that you meet him this morning for a meeting, he said it's regarding an urgent subject...sounds important".
Billy listens, only mild interested, flipping through the first few pages of one of the manuscripts, then tossing it to the side without a care in the world.
"Cancel the call, and push the meeting to tomorrow and put the lawyer on the sheets...oh and get ahold of PR and have them start a press relief. Dane is doing Oprah and with that said we're going to pay Tommy a little visit" Billy commands.
Steve raises his eyebrows.
"Wow, nicely done" his voice conveying how impressed he is.
Billy swivels in his chair, looking at him pointedly.
"If I wanted your praise, I would have asked for it, Harrington" He snarks.
Steve bites back whatever he is about to say, which would have definitely put him in the shit house.
Instead, he asks Billy if he wants him to give Tommy a heads up that they were coming.
As an answer, all he gets is a deadpan look with more snark.
Billy grabs his coffee, about to take a sip when something catches his eye.
"Um...Harrington?" He asks clearing his throat, turning his chair to face his young assistant.
"Who is Sandy? And why does she want me to call her?" He inquires, looking expectantly at Steve with a devilish smirk that makes Steve want to throw holy water at Billy; skin tinting red with a blush.
He looks anywhere but at Billy for a whole five seconds, before biting the bullet and glancing at his boss.
"Well...that was originally my cup" he trails off, earning a raised eyebrow, his boss still smirking when he asks, "And I'm drinking your coffee why?"
He bites his lip, shuffling around for a moment.
"Because your coffee spilt...".
Billy blinks at him before taking a sip of the coffee.
His eyes zone in on Harrington's once the flavor hits his taste buds.
"And you drink unsweetened coconut milk cappuccinos with cinnamon, am I right".
It wasn't a question, rather a statement.
He looks Billy right in the eye from where he stands near the door, itching to bolt.
"Yes...I do, it's like Heaven in a cup" he tries to smile innocently, but it comes out more like a grimace which doesn't go unnoticed by his boss.
"And you happen to drink the same coffee as I do, every day, is it a coincidence?" Hargrove asks, already knowing the answer.
Steve looks around the room again, his cheeks flushing a dark shade of red, praying the ground will just open up and swallow him already.
He scratches the back of his neck, looking at Billy's smug face.
"Yes, that is a coincidence, isn't it. I mean I wouldn't drink the same drink as you do...just in case, yours spilt because that would be incredibly pathetic and stupid...right, yeah!" he splutters.
Billy stares at him for a full minute before finally tearing his gaze away after watching the 5'11 man try to shrink in on himself.
Satisfied, he stands up grabbing his coffee, putting on a fake smile.
"Mmm, it's pathetic really Harrington...Now we're heading up to Tommy's office to pay him a little visit. But remember Harrington, you're a prop in this visit. A fixture in the room at best. I don't want to hear a word uttered by you, understood? Great!" Billy smirks, clapping his hands together.
He stands from his desk, marching right past Steve and towards Tommy's office.
Steve follows closely behind, looking like he's just had his favorite toy broken in front of him with a weak mumble of "Yes Sir, I understand".