GAME OF LUST WITH MR BILLIONAIRES

Why, oh why did I have to wear a white blouse? And why, oh why did I have to stumble up the stair with my blistering hot coffee and spill it on my shirt.

And why, oh why, did it have to be the day of my big meeting?

Of course with my dumbfounded luck, the elevators were out of order; and upon walking into the front of the editing part of the building, I was completely overthrown by the surprise of seeing that my office had been sent under random reconstruction.

Basically, my already small little complex in that back of the building was being cut in half. Our business had recently been expanded and I got the worst half of it. And yes, I was complaining.

Although I was thankful to be working for a quite successful and expanding Oil Incorporation in NYC that came with a decent paycheck, I was underestimated; no one saw me for my true potential. So far, my 5 years at the Buffalo Institute for Journalism had gone to waste; but I wasn't perturbed. I was perfectly content with writing semi-advanced articles and cracking jokes with the rest of the faculty about how our current boss, Ms. Newmort, looked like a falcon.

Today I just happened to have gotten called in early for this pointless meeting in which I was to take notes. Some multi-millionaire from Utah was trying to expand his hotel business and struck oil that was already owned by our company. They wanted to make an exchange for some of our oil. But what millionaire wants to live in Utah? And run a large and expansive hotel at that?

"Look who decided to finally show up to work." My boss had coarse unprofessional humor.

"I'm sorry, I got caught up in traffic and you know I don't have a car-" she stopped me, her blonde hair was slicked back in a high professional bun and her makeup was heavy. She looked like a clown.

"I don't care about your personal issues, hurry up and sign in. We're very busy today!" she exclaimed and walked past me, her heels making an annoying clash with the marble flooring. I held my half spilled coffee and closed my eyes.

"Don't mind her, she's mad cause man number 5 stood her up last night," my friend Amy told me.

Amy Blackwell was the most talkative female to ever walk the planet and probably the most influential. I met her in college.

"And how did you hear this?" I ask her, handing her my drink and making my way to my incredibly small ass cubicle in the back. It had one window and a small couch. Nothing I was too proud of.

"Randy told Beverly who told Willis who told Janet who told Daniel who-" I groan and stop her, "Who let me guess...who told you?" I ask finishing.

"Actually no. Daniel who told Heather who told Valerie.... Who then told me?" she said smiling and sitting on my desk as I signed into my account on my Mac computer. "And you're sure this is true?" I ask her, to be honest I completely honest, I really didn't care, but her rattling conversation was strangely making me feel better. Besides the entire staff was like a group of high school kids, always spreading rumors and it was fun to hear about. "We were just talking about it in the lounge.

Besides she always acts like this when she's been stood up." That was true. "Are you sure it isn't that Utah Hotel business guy that's coming?" I insist. My MacBook wouldn't open. The password must've been changed.

"Why would it be? Although, I did hear that we're getting a new manager," she spills and I almost leap with joy. "You mean Ms. Newmort is leaving?" I exclaim. My day just might have gotten better!

"No, basically like her right hand man, literally and I hear he is like a gorgeous piece of man." I dampen at the thought of having her still around. My day instantly returned back to shitty extreme. "Where did you hear this?" I ask wildly at her, still struggling to log in. "Phoebe told-"

"Never mind.

When does the meeting start?" I ask, sighing and looking down at my shirt. "In 20 minutes, oh, and another spill, don't worry, I have a pink flowered chiffon top that would match your pencil skirt. I have it in my office!" she tells me.

And this is why Amy was my best friend.

After changing my shirt and being yelled at by my irritating and dateless boss, I made it just in time to meet at a long table with a group of men. The room smelt of fresh apples and I seated myself close next to Ms. Newmort. Which reminded me, once again...I forgot to eat against this morning. In a way, I didn't forget, I just simply passed the idea.

All of the men were quite older but didn't look too bad for their age. Not that I was looking anyways. And I was sure as hell they weren't looking at me. "Good morning Mr. Carter. Pleasure to see you again." Ms. Newmort says, sitting back in her chair, as I scoot next to her with my notebook and pen out. Mr. Carter was a very attractive older man; his eyes were a deep dark brown, highlighted by perfect eyebrows. I noticed the wedding band on his ring finger and I smiled.

You can take the toilet paper out of your bra now Ms. Newmort he's married!

"Good morning, well let's not dilly-dally, I have another meeting at 9 so let's make this quick." Gee, Mr. Carter was a busy man and didn't play around. Maybe I should go work for him in the middle of nowhere in Utah.

"Very well, shall we discuss details?" Ms. Newmort flashes back, showing her fake smile that she doesn't even try to show to me.

Hoe.

I didn't even understand why I was here if all they needed to do was sign the contract? "I have my brightest and most successful assistant manager in exchange for just a quart of your oil." Just a quart? This man better be good. Mr. Carter continues, "My son, Elliot Carter Jr majored in business and finance with a minor in entrepreneurship.

A younger man then stands to his feet, his dark brown-feathered hair brushed across his face. Eyes deep and dark just like his fathers, with perfectly shaped eyebrows. He was surely a very 'gorgeous piece of man' as Amy stated earlier today. Maybe even better... Ms. Newmort took a liking to him, more than I did.

"A 2 year contracts with Mr. Elliot Carter in an exchange? Sounds moral enough," My already plotting boss mumbled. "If you will forgive me, but I always work with a personal assistant. It helps me execute my imposition." Mr. Elliot Carter Jr says. His voice is deep and powerful and holds intimidation. It makes me frown.