Stuck-Up Suit(5)

I was nearly at my data usage limit for the month, so I popped Graham Morgan into Google on his phone. I was surprised when the search returned more than a thousand results. The first one was his company’s website—Morgan Financial Holdings. I clicked on the link. It was a typical corporate website, all very sterile and businesslike. The list of holdings was a page long, everything from real estate to a financial investment firm. The site reeked of old money. I would have bet Daddy still had a big corner office and visited every Friday after golf. The common theme of the site also seemed to summarize the business—wealth management. The rich get richer. Who was managing my assets? Oh, wait. That’s right. I had none. Unless you counted my great rack. And I currently had no one managing that either.

I clicked over to the About tab, and my jaw dropped open. The first picture was of the Adonis himself, Graham J. Morgan. The guy was seriously gorgeous. A strong blade of a nose, chiseled jaw, and eyes the color of melting milk chocolate. Something told me he might have Greek in his ancestry. I licked my lips. Damn. Underneath, I read his bio. Twenty-nine, Summa Cum Laude at Wharton, single, blah blah blah. The only thing that surprised me was the last sentence: Mr. Morgan founded Morgan Financial Holdings only eight years ago, yet its diverse client portfolio rivals the oldest and most prestigious investment firms in New York City. Guess I was wrong about Daddy.

After wiping the drool off the keypad, I moved on to the Team tab. Thirty different directors and managers were outlined. There was a common theme there, too. Over educated and scowling. Except for one lone renegade who dared to smile for his corporate photo. Ben Schilling, who was apparently a marketing manager. Bored with corporate life, but still not ready to go back to my to-do list, I scrolled through Graham’s contacts again. I passed over Avery’s name and wondered if it was only women who Mr. Big Prick managed to piss off. A few names down from Avery, I landed on the first male name: Ben. Hmmm. Without overthinking it, I thumbed off a text: Graham: What’s up?

I got excited when I saw the three dots start bouncing, indicating he was typing a response.

Ben: Working on that presentation. I’ll have it ready tomorrow as planned.

Graham: Great. Tell Linda to get you set up on my calendar.

At least, I had gotten her name right. I watched the three dots start and then stop. Then start again.

Ben: I didn’t think Linda was coming back anymore. After what happened at the meeting yesterday.

Now we were getting somewhere. I sat up in my chair.

Graham: A lot happened at the meeting yesterday. What, specifically, are you referring to?

Ben: Ummm…I meant when you yelled you’re fired, get the hell out of my office.

This guy really was a total prick. Someone needed to fix his ass. I launched Safari and reopened the last page I had visited. Halfway down, I found what I was looking for: Meredith Kline, Human Resources Manager.

Graham: Maybe I was a little harsh. I’m in meetings all afternoon. Could you stop over and tell Meredith in HR to make sure Linda gets a month of severance?

Ben: Of course. I’m sure she will appreciate that.

If I was too nice, I thought he might have suspected something.

Graham: I appreciate not getting sued. What she appreciates isn’t my concern.

I figured I had pushed far enough, so I tossed the phone into my purse before I could do any more damage. Tomorrow I would return it. And I was looking forward to meeting the jerk in person.





CHAPTER 3


SORAYA



MORGAN FINANCIAL HOLDINGS occupied the entire twentieth floor according to the sign in the lobby. My stomach growled as I waited for an elevator. Seeing as though I’d just had my breakfast, I knew it was nerves, and that pissed me off.

Why was the thought of coming face to face with this jackass making me nervous?

His looks.

Deep down, I knew it was his looks, and that was ridiculous. I wasn’t a superficial person, but a part of me couldn’t help swooning over this jerk. That part of me really needed to shut up right now.

The elevator made a dinging sound and opened up, allowing myself and an older businessman to enter. It was just the two of us as the doors shut. When the man scratched his balls, I looked down at the feather tattoo on my foot to distract myself from it. Why was I a magnet for men who scratched their junk? Thankfully, the car arrived at the twentieth floor soon enough. I exited the elevator, allowing the man free reign to go to town on himself in private.

A black sign with gold lettering that read Morgan Financial Holdings hung atop two clear glass doors. Taking a deep breath in and adjusting my little red dress, I made my way through the entrance. Yes, I’d gotten dolled up for this shit. Don’t judge.

A young, redheaded receptionist smiled at me. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m here to see Graham Morgan.”

She looked like she was about to laugh at me. “Is he expecting you?”

“No.”

“Mr. Morgan doesn’t see anyone who doesn’t have an appointment.”

“Well, I have something very important of his, so I really need to see him.”

“What is your name?”

“Soraya Venedetta.”

“Can you spell your last name for me? Vendetta? Like a vendetta against someone?”

“No, it’s Ven-E-detta. There’s an E in the middle. V-E-N-E-D-E-T-T-A.” If I had a nickel for every time someone screwed up my last name…well, I’d be richer than Graham J. Morgan.