Stuck-Up Suit(6)

“Okay. Miss Venedetta. Well, if you like, you can take a seat right there. When Mr. Morgan arrives, I will ask him if he’s willing to see you. ”

“Thank you.”

Straightening my dress, I took a seat on the plush, microfiber couch diagonally across from the front desk. It shouldn’t have surprised me that Mr. Big Prick wasn’t here yet, since he wasn’t on the usual train this morning. I wondered exactly how long I’d have to wait; I only took a half-day and was due back at Ida’s after lunchtime.

Mindlessly fishing through some financial magazines, I almost hadn’t looked up when the doors opened. My heart started pounding when I noticed Graham, looking angry as ever. He was decked out in black pants and a crisp white shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves. There was that gleaming watch wrapped around his wrist. He was holding a burgundy tie in one hand and a laptop in the other. When he passed by, a waft of his intoxicating cologne immediately hit me like a punch in the nose. He was looking straight ahead, completely oblivious to me or anything else around him.

The receptionist lit up as he walked by her. “Good morning, Mr. Morgan.”

Graham didn’t respond. He simply let out a barely audible groan in response as he swiftly passed us and disappeared down the hall.

Really.

I looked over at her. “Why didn’t you tell him I was here to see him?”

She laughed. “Mr. Morgan needs time to decompress in the morning. I can’t hit him with an unannounced visitor the second he walks in the door.”

“Well, exactly how long am I going to have to wait?”

“I’ll check in with his secretary in about thirty minutes.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Absolutely not.”

“That’s f*cking ridiculous. It’s going to take two minutes to do what I need to do. I can’t wait all morning. I’m going to be late for work.”

“Miss Vendetta…”

“Ven-E-detta…”

“Venedetta. Sorry. There are certain rules here. Rule number one is, unless Mr. Morgan has an important meeting scheduled in the morning, he is not to be disturbed as soon as he arrives.”

“What exactly will he do if you bother him?”

“I don’t want to find out.”

“Well, I do.” Getting up from my seat, I charged down the hall as the redhead scurried behind me.

“Miss Venedetta. You don’t know what you’re doing. Get back here right now! I’m serious.”

I stopped when I came upon a dark, cherry wood door with the name Graham J. Morgan engraved into a placard upon it. The shades to the glass windows surrounding the door were completely closed.

“Where is his secretary?”

She pointed to an empty desk across from his office. “She normally sits right there, but she doesn’t appear to be in yet. So, that’s even more of a reason why I cannot disturb him right now because he’s probably angry about that.”

She looked over at another female employee who was working in a nearby cubicle. “Do you know why Rebecca isn’t here yet?”

“Rebecca quit. The agency is looking for a replacement.”

“Great,” the receptionist huffed. “And she lasted all of what…two days?”

The woman laughed. “Not bad, considering…”

What the hell kind of a person was this Graham Morgan?

Who did he think he was?

Adrenaline suddenly coursed through me. I walked over to the secretary’s empty desk and pressed the intercom button that was labeled GJM.

“Who the f*ck do you think you are…The Wizard of Oz? I’m pretty sure I’d have easier access to Queen Elizabeth.”

The fear in the receptionist’s eyes was palpable, but she knew it was too late, so she just stayed on the sidelines and watched.

There was no response for about a full minute. Then came his deep penetrating voice. “Who is this?”

“My name is Soraya Venedetta.”

“Venedetta.” He’d repeated my name clearly. It wasn’t lost on me that unlike everyone else, he had pronounced my name precisely.

When he didn’t say anything else, I pressed the button again. “I’ve been waiting patiently to see you. But apparently, you’re whacking off in there or something. Everyone here is scared out of their wits of you, so no one wants to tell you I’m here. I have something I imagine you’ve been looking for.”

His voice came on again. “Oh really?”

“Yes. And I’m not going to give it to you unless you open that door.”

“Let me ask you something, Ms. Venedetta.”

“Okay…”

“This thing you claim I’m looking for. Is it the cure for cancer?”

“No.”

“Is it an original Shelby Cobra?”

A what?

“Um…No.”

“Then, you’re wrong. There’s nothing you could possibly have that I’m looking for, that would make opening that door and having to deal with you worth it. Now please leave this floor, or I’ll have security escort you out.”

Eff this. I wasn’t going to deal with this crap anymore. I didn’t want anything to do with him from this point forward, so I decided I would leave his stupid phone. Grabbing my own phone, I got an idea. A parting gift. I snapped three pictures of myself: one of my cleavage with a big middle finger in the middle, one of my legs and one of my rear end. I then programmed my number into his phone, naming myself You’re Welcome Asshole. I specifically chose not to show my face since I didn’t want him to recognize me on the train.