Page 25 of Resting Grump Face
“Well, drastic and continuous scandals call for drastic and probably annoying measures.”
Bruce laughs. “I think it’s a good idea. It will definitely buy us some time with the board. You just need to make sure we’re seeing results. More scandals like this would certainlycomplicate things.” An almost silent sigh echoes through the phone and I know what he is thinking.
“Don’t worry,” I say.“I know the bad press has been a bit of an issue, but I’ve got it under control.”Or at least I will.
It’s a tricky situation. Even though all those headlines and that social media uproar is nothing but poor reporting and baseless slander, it can still affect morale, reputation, and ultimately the stock of the company, and if those things are tanking, then so will the business at some point, and we can’t afford that. There are too many lives directly tied to our success.
“Don’t worry, I’m on it,” I reiterate and hang up.
And I will be. Getting Sienna to work for me can’t be that hard. If push comes to shove, I can always just offer more money. Or hire another PR consultant, though I’d really prefer not to.
I finish the rest of the pasta and notice Sienna’s laptop. She has one of those job searching sites pulled up on the screen. Our eyes meet again and immediately my dick makes itself known once more. It’s squished against my pants, uncomfortably pointing towards the exit and, for once, I think it has the right idea.
10
SIENNA
“He ate it, so it’s unlikely to be poisoned,” I explain to my cat while looking at a plate of pasta that smells like an Italian fairy godmother had just been here. The noodles are twisted to a neat little mound, cheese is carefully sprinkled on top and even the rim is wiped clean. It looks like it was made by a professional.
“Professional assassin? Or chef?”
The Chairman meows in response, probably to say that he’d be happy to try it first.
“Eh, who cares? If I die, you may feast on me until Olivia returns.” I grab the dish and a fork, and rush back outside. The plate is empty within a minute or two (as is the rest of the pan) which confirms what I have been suspecting all along: Ryker Grayson probably made some deal with the devil. How else would you explain that he can cook like this while looking at least equally delicious? In return, he probably had to give up his soul, or heart, or whatever thing he is missing.
A couple hours later, I look like a dried-up peach. I also feel like one; that is, if dried-up peaches feel entirely relaxed from lyingaround for too long. The sun is all but gone when my phone rings inside the penthouse. Reluctantly, I dry myself off and take the call. It’s an unknown number.
“Hello, is this Sienna… de la Vega?” a woman on the other end asks.
I’m afraid so,I want to answer but leave it at a, “Yup, this is she.”
“Great, well, we saw your CV online and think you might be a good fit for one of our positions. Would you be willing to meet us for an interview?”
Would I?“Uhh, sure. I’d love to.”
“Great,” she repeats as if she really means it. “I will send you all the necessary information via mail.”
“Looking forward to it,” I get out before being cut off by the beeping of an ended call.
Well, this is promising. Maybe I won’t have to dip into my savings to pay rent… by which I mean, I won’t have to work for lousy tips while getting groped or ask Olivia to bail me out. And I definitely won’t have to accept Ryker’s offer, which obviously was never really on the table anyway.
It’s nice and warm inside the penthouse. Nonetheless, I decide to put on some clothes, in case more creepers come in unexpectedly. Then I text my best friend:
Love you :-*
She answers a few minutes later.
What are you scheming now?
Nothing yet, but it will probably involve strange men walking in on you while you’re dancing naked in someone else’s living room.
Hey, he’s not strange! He’s a sweetheart. You just have to get to know him!
PS: I say the exact same thing about you to other people.
Well, don’t, or they won’t be scared when meeting me anymore.
I do want to tell her what’s up with my life, with my (former) job and everything else that’s going on, but I know she’d start worrying too much to be able to relax and enjoy her honeymoon. She’d also try to force me to take her money. So, instead, I change the subject.
