Page 21 of Brassy Bigwig

I look over at Cami, ignoring her eye roll, as she nods her head toward a chair across the room. When I turn to see who she’s talking about, I lock eyes on a handsome blond with rosy cheeks and dark eyes. After a slight smile, I return to the group of girls around me.

“Meh,” I shrug. “He’s not my type.”

“And what’s your type?” Cami asks with attitude in her tone.

Trey flashes into my mind, and I close my eyes.

“Just… not that,” I explain, opening my eyes once again as the image of Trey vanishes.

I feel my phone vibrate in my clutch, and I fish it out. Checking the notifications, I see I have an email from Mr. Andino.

Don’t look at it. It can wait until Monday.

But I can’t help myself. I have to know what short, nasty put-down he has for me this time. I swear, it gets worse with each email.

Chloe—

He never says hi.

I was just looking over the office expenditures report you sent this afternoon. The margins are off and there should be an additional space between each line. Furthermore, the total is off by seventy-three cents.

I’ll need this fixed and sent back to me by lunchtime tomorrow.

—D.A.

“Tomorrow?” I shout. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Chloe, what’s wrong?” Shelby asks.

“That bastard wants me to work tomorrow.”

Cami looks at me like I have two heads, and she forgets I have a job.

“Mr. Andino. You know, my boss. He just sent me an email saying he needs me to fix a report and have it to him by lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just tell him you’re sick? Or save it until Monday? Maybe he forgot what day of the week it is.”

“No, Cami, I can’t just blow off my boss. You’d understand if you worked a day in your life.”

“Okay, look,” Shelby interrupts our spat before it escalates. “Chloe, put your phone away and worry about the reports tomorrow. You have to remember, you don’t work at your father’s company anymore. You’re in the real world now. People aren’t going to cater to you.”

I try not to let my hurt feelings show at her words. She’s absolutely correct, but it still hurts hearing it. Socialite party-girl or not, Shelby definitely has a handle on the workings of the real world.

“Right now, you have a hot blond who can’t take his eyes off of you.”

Shelby takes my cell phone from my hand and nods in the direction of the guy across the room.

“Go,” she commands.

If for nothing other than to get away from the shit-eating grin on Cami’s face, I get up and walk over to the boy. Yes, boy. I spend thirty minutes speaking with him—which was about twenty-nine minutes too long—before I excuse myself to the restroom, make sure he’s not looking, grab my purse, and then tell Shelby I’ll see her at home later.

The boy was nice. He was friendly and smart. But he just wasn’t who I wanted.

He wasn’t Trey.

* * *

When I awaken, my eyelids are almost too heavy to lift. Until I feel something burrowing between my legs, slipping in between the swollen folds of my pussy. My breath hitches, and I’m frightened for a moment before I remember where I am.

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