I have these too.
Attached is a photo of me kissing Whiskey.
Fuck off.
He starts typing right away. And for some reason, I sit and wait for his reply.
In a year, I will be gone. Sign the contract, Carla. Let’s start our year sooner rather than later.
Who does he think he is? I get out of his messages and type his name into Facebook. The asshole’s profile picture comes up straight away, and his bio reads he owns a company. Googling the name of the company, I read he’s the sole owner and CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Holy shit!
Do you want something from my father?
I send the text and wait for him to reply. Somehow, this has to be connected. He must want something from Father, and the way to get to him is through me. I wait. This time Whiskey takes longer to reply.
Yes.
Corton Whiskey would be richer than my father. Of that, I have no doubt, and my father has loads of money. So, what on earth would he want from him?
What do you want?
It’s a simple question, and all I want is a simple answer.
You.
It’s a one-word reply. But gives me nothing to go on. Putting my phone away, I choose to not reply. He isn’t giving me the answers I want right now, so tomorrow I will aim to get them out of him.
5
Whiskey
I smile as I look at the screen of the camera which is located outside of my office. Her long red hair is in waves, hanging down her back while she stares at my personal assistant. Today she’s dressed as a pin-up model, compared to the tamer look she was wearing on the night before at her father’s gala. Her lips are pursed, and she’s clearly angry, because she’s been kept waiting to see me for over an hour. Granted, I only knew she’s been here for ten minutes, but I like to see this side of her. I love watching her anger. The way her plump lips push together in a thin line makes them even redder, and how she gets a slight wrinkle in her forehead indicating she’s not happy.
Her arms cross over her chest as she looks to the elevator, which leads to the exit, and I can tell her patience is wearing thin.
Pulling the door open, her green eyes flick to me as her arms drop to her sides.
Quickly, and with no hesitation, she moves toward me until she’s standing directly in front of me. “You,” she seethes.
“Sir, I told her you were in a meeting.”
I look over Carla’s shoulder to my personal assistant. “Thank you. Hold all my calls until Miss Star leaves.” I step back and hold the door open for Carla to enter. She doesn’t look at me when she walks in, her eyes trained straight ahead, but I take the perfect opportunity to stare at her ass in her tightly fitted skirt. Her red heels make her legs seem even longer.
“I can feel you staring at my ass. Stop it.” She pulls the seat out opposite my desk and sits, not even looking back to confirm that I am indeed staring at her ass. Shutting the door, I walk around to my chair as she puts the contract on the desk along with the CD of us. I smile thinking about that night—it wasn’t what I expected—and the fact I was glad she was nothing like I’d imagined in my head. She was better, so much more than perfect.
“It’s a pleasure to see you.”
“I’m sure the pleasure is all yours.”
“Are we still angry, Carla?” I ask, leaning forward.
“Angry? If that’s what you want to call it. Sure, we can go with angry.” I can hear the sarcasm in her voice, and I can’t help but smile. “Don’t sit there and smile at me, Whiskey.”
Goddamn, I miss her calling me that. She’s the only one I’ve ever allowed to call me that.
“But you’re beautiful to smile at.” It’s true, she is the most stunningly beautiful woman and she must know this fact.
“How could you do this? What can you possibly gain from this?” Carla pushes the contract toward me. I look at it and notice it’s not signed.
“You haven’t signed it.”
Carla’s head drops to the side. “Nope.”
“And I take it you don’t intend to?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I didn’t want to do this,” I say while picking up the phone.
“Do what?” she asks as I call my driver.
“Yes. Please deliver the package to Mr. Star, addressing it as urgent from his daughter. Then please take the other package to the local news station.”
Her face drops when I hang up the phone. “You’re bluffing.”
“Do you have your phone on you, Carla?” She nods her head. “I would keep that on you. My guess is your father will be calling soon.”
“You wouldn’t.”