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ASHER
“Asher,” Lauren, my assistant, says from the doorway.
“No good morning or hello?” I blink up at her.
“Why waste time on pleasantries when I don’t care?” she replies, entering.
I’ve known her since I was a kid because she first worked as an executive assistant at my father’s financial corporation. When I expanded this marketing firm, I offered Lauren a higher salary, more paid vacation, and a yearly bonus to join me. She put in her two-week notice and dropped my dad without hesitation. After her twenty years of loyal service, no one blamed her, not even my father.
I tell myself I didn’t hire her to be nice. She’s a bulldog, and no one gets past her, which I need more than a daily ass-kissing. I get thateverywhereI go.
Lauren is proof that no one gives a shit about my feelings and that the world is cruel. Her sharp tongue serves as a reminder that I have to be tough.
She clears her throat. “I wanted to remind you about your appointment at Bellamore. Seven sharp.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
This meeting has been on my mind since Harper Alexander, one of the partners at Bellamore, set up an emergency one-on-one meeting with me.
I lean back in my chair, wishing I could fast-forward to Saturday. That night, I’m attending an award ceremony, where I’ve been nominated for the Cityscape Award. It’s prestigious and one of the greatest honors a CEO can receive.
I refocus on the blinking cursor.
To Whom It May Concern:
“You have twenty minutes,” Lauren urges. “Ms. Calloway already wants you dead. Arrive late, and you will be.”
I remove my fingers from the keys, knowing everyone is aware that Billie Calloway and I havealwaysbeen at each other’s throat. Our college rivalry started at eighteen and lasted throughout our entire twenties. Now we’re in our thirties, and the dislike is theonlyconstant between us.
I breathe out and return my glare to Lauren. “Bellamore is directly across the street. If I finish this email in the next three minutes, I can be in the ice queen’s office with ten minutes to spare.
“Remember who used to change your diapers when your father was too busy,” she reminds me. “Also, helping them is yourpersonalchoice. Bellamore isn’t on your agenda this year. And let me remind you,little boy, you don’t have time for anythingextra. Your schedule is already too full. You are only one person, and you’ll burn out if you keep this up. Having no work-life balance destroyed your parents’ marriage.”
“Luckily, I’m not married,” I state. “And just know that I’d rather swallow my fucking tongue than speak to Billie Calloway this morning, but my hands are tied. I have no choice. Understood?”
She nods.
“Now, anything else?” I pick up my cup of coffee and take a sip.
“That’s all,” she says, moving toward the door.
A second later, it clicks closed, and I watch her cross in front of the glass-windowed wall that separates my office from the pit—the area of cubicles that houses many high-level PR reps and illustrators.
I close my blinds so my employees cannot see me. Gone are the days when I could be alone at the office early. Since Bellamore moved into this building two years ago, someone is always here. It’s why security stays on-site around the clock.
Lauren is right about one thing: I am on the verge of burnout, and it fucking sucks. There is no stopping now because when the ball drops, only I can catch it. The success of this business is on my shoulders, and I can’t let it fail. I won’t. It’s my sister’s legacy.
I pace several steps behind my desk and stop in front of the wall of windows. The sun has barely risen, and the city is still waking. Directly in front of me is the ice queen’s office. Hers faces mine, and it was one of the few reasons I purchased this building. Twenty-six months have passed since I moved the headquarters here, and I’ve never once witnessed her glance my way.
I might as well be invisible. It’s for the absolute best.
Right now, Billie is standing at her desk, wearing her favorite color—soulless black. She’s using her hands as she speaks, but her jet-black bob remains in place.
Her fashion company, Bellamore—the one she dreamed up while we were in college together—is located in the building most known as the Crystal Palace. It’s nicknamed that because of its clear blue windows and castle-like architecture. The inside looks like it fell from a fairy tale. Bellamore really exploded a year ago, and neither Billie nor Harper, her business partner and best friend, are experienced enough to handle it. They need me. However, Billie is too stubborn to accept my help, solely because it’s me.
If Bellamore files for bankruptcy, I’ll buy the building and move my firm there. Knowing how much Billie will despise that makes me so fucking happy.