Page 5 of Selfish Suit

He’s a man who can literally take your breath away with one glance from his deep blue eyes. A man who can bring your entire world to a halt if you ever catch a smile on his perfectly molded lips—or catch a rare glimpse of him, unfocused, running a hand through his ink-black hair.

He’s also the man whose name is literally on the building. But he has other names, too…

CEO. Marketing god. Unofficial destroyer of employees. And “Mr. Fucking Selfish” in soft whispers through the hallways.

“I uh…” I clear my throat, nervously tightening my fingers around the wet handles of the bag. “I was saying that I’m sorry I’m late.”

“I heard you.” He points to the bag. “You can set the food down on the table.”

I oblige and tear off the fancy card from the restaurant.

“Squid ink tagliatelle with lobster and truffle cream, rosemary bread basket, and burrata with fig and balsamic,” I say, setting out all the perfectly wrapped dishes. “It’s still hot.”

“I doubt that.” His gaze drags over me, and I regret changing out of my business suit into this old pink hoodie and jeans. Pulling out his wallet, he walks over to me and takes out a hundred-dollar bill.

I bite my lip, trying not to look too excited, trying not to mentally calculate just how much that amount would help me this week.

He slides it back into his wallet and pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead.

“I always knew a few small bills would come in handy.” He hands it to me. “Here’s your tip.”

I stare at it.

“Technically, this is an extra tip.” He looks dead-ass serious. “I already left you an additional three percent in the app.”

“Three percent?”

“Technically six once you take this.” He moves closer with that ten. “Considering how late you are and how much you’ve inconvenienced me, I think that’s more than fair.”

“Fair?”

“Should I speak louder?” he asks. “Do you have hearing issues?”

“No, I do not…” I grit my teeth.

Walk away, Ivy. Just walk away.

“You can take the money and leave now, Miss UberEats,” he says. “I’m sure you have another customer to disappoint this evening. The door is?—”

“Fuck you.” I smack the ten out of his hands, glaring at him. “You’re a freakin’ billionaire who just spent three hundred dollars on a couple of entrées and you think I should be grateful for getting a three percent tip from you?”

“Pick my money up from the floor.” He narrows his eyes. “Now.”

“I thought that wasmymoney?” I scoff, folding my arms. “But it can stay right there, and you can pick it up—maybe that’ll be the first time you actually do some manual labor.”

“Miss UberEats…”

“I bet you think people wake up hoping, wishing, and praying that they’ll get the chance to serve you. Newsflash—we freakin’ don’t. Second newsflash: you’re worse than any of the rumors I’ve ever heard about you in any department here.”

“How the hell can you be a billionaire with unpaid interns?” I can’t stop talking. “It’s ridiculous that we have to prove ourselvesto you before we get paid on certain projects. And on top of that, you demand so effin’ much for so effin’ little.”

He arches a brow. “You work for me?”

“You deserve your ‘selfish as hell’ reputation, and I promise you there’s a reason you’re never in the top 100 of decent places to work for,” I say. “You’re the worst CEO in Manhattan, and you don’t deserve any more of my time.”

I pick up all the dishes from his order and return them to the bag.

Then I storm out of his office.

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