Addicted (The Addicted Series, #1)(3)
I placed the phone against my hip to block out sound.
“Christine?” I dared.
She looked up at me and my heart jumped in my chest. “What is it, Victoria? Have you told Pierre that I'm not coming?”
“Uh,” I mumbled. Then I took a deep breath and gathered my courage. “I’m sorry, Christine, but he's adamant that he speaks with you—”
“Since when does telling a client that I will not be attending mean that you must listen to his pathetic whining and feel honor-bound to go against my orders, hmm?”
Blood rushed to my cheeks as I fumbled for an answer.
“But,” Christine continued, “Since you’re fairly new here and quite easy to influence, I’ll forgive you—just this once.” She sat back in her seat and appraised me with her frost-blue eyes. “Now tell me, what does Mr. Pierre want?”
I pushed down the anger that rose in my throat at her insult. “He wants to know what it will take for you to attend.”
Christine stared at me for a long moment. “There is a designer by the name of Amanda Kersey. Heard of her? Terrible designer with clothing that looks like a blind woman designed it and models that look like they’re meth addicts straight off the streets. Anyway, a trusted advisor told me she used choice words in speaking about me . . .”
Christine’s words trailed off, but her meaning was clear. She gave me a direct look to drive her point home, and I shook involuntarily at what she wanted me to do. Much like me, Amanda Kersey is young and starry-eyed. She's a popular upcoming designer, who I’m sure has a lot riding on this.
And with one word, Christine destroys her.
My immediate urge was to hang up the phone, tell Christine to kiss my ass, and then walk out of her office for good. But as a newly-graduated twenty-two-year-old who was estranged from both parents and alone in a big city with a lease to pay, I couldn't afford to piss off such a powerful woman.
“Is there a problem?” Christine asked me.
Numbly, I shook my head and raised the phone to my lips.
“Pierre?” I ask weakly.
He was still there after all this time.
“Yes?”
Despite the grave situation, I almost laughed at the desperation in his voice.
“There is a fashion designer by the name of Amanda Kersey—”
“She’s done,” Pierre cut in. “I'll be calling her immediately to tell her that something came up and someone else will be taking her place.”
The line went dead and I stood there, feeling numb all over.
“Victoria?” Christine said to me. I looked over at her, noting the wicked curl to her lips. She’d won her little power play and now could privately gloat. “Stop standing there like an imbecile and get to work.”
She’s really testing me.
Holding back an acidic reply, I turned away and numbly walked back to my desk, slamming the phone down. I grasped my head in my palms and blew out a stressful breath. After a moment, I straightened up and began going through Christine’s schedule, marking the calendar for Pierre’s show.
As much as I wanted to quit my job, I knew if I stuck it out for a little while longer, big things would happen for me. At least that’s what I hoped.
“That door just can’t open quick enough,” I muttered to myself.
Chapter 2
Tyler
“You’ve got to get your shit together, man,” Jeff growled at me.
Sitting back in my chair, I winced as a sharp pain sliced through my brain. As usual, I’d stayed up late after a night of drinking and wild sex. It would’ve been worth it, but the girl I’d gone home with last night, a blonde with big tits and a nice round ass, had been too eager to suck my dick.
I like a challenge, a girl who likes to play hard to get, and lately, all of them have given it up without any effort from me.
Too easy.
It probably had something to do with the fact that I was a man of wealth, co-founder of Armex Corp with my father, James Locklin. Or maybe it was just my confident swagger. I was, after all, six-foot-three, tall, blonde and cut like exquisitely carved stone thanks to my workout regimen.
Jeff hissed with exasperation and leaned across the table. “Are you listening to me?”
The pain in my skull pounded relentlessly. I didn't want to listen to this shit. How many times had I heard it before? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? Who gives a f*ck? I don’t.
“You can’t keep sleeping around with these groupie sluts,” Jeff continued. “As one of the top executives, you're making Armex look bad.”
I settled my gaze on Jeff. With dark brown hair and hazel eyes, he was a few years my senior. He was dressed in a business suit that made him look older than what he really was. I think he needed to lighten up and go out and get some *, then maybe he wouldn’t be so uptight all the time. I could fix him up in one night.
“I don’t see how the girls I f*ck are any business of the company,” I responded in a cavalier tone that I knew would piss Jeff off. I enjoyed getting under people's skin, for no other reason than I knew I could without consequence.
It worked.
“Well, it is when it's affecting our public image and our bottom line,” Jeff growled back at me, his face twisting into an angry scowl. “If you made sure no one saw you publicly consorting with those skanks, then it would be different. Since you don’t, the board members are getting tired of it. They’re tired of your making us look unprofessional.”