Being an architect came with its perks. One pro—I could work at home on my time. The cons were creating a complex design for someone who had to tweak my work. I had to collaborate with people to construct the ideas dancing in their heads, and construct their dream landscapes while changing the fucking world.
Without someone like me, who possessed a creative mind and the ability to unfold structures, there would be no skyscrapers. No neighborhoods with custom-built homes. There would be no creativity in scenery across the world for everyone to view and be in awe of its beauty.
These blueprints took time to create, and Mr. Armani was not only tenacious, he was impatient as hell. The imagination was an amazing place, but one could get lost in it, and he was adding details to a finished product. Every time we had a conversation, he had a brand-new image for me to design.
Mr. Armani was like a spoiled kid who had never been disciplined and didn’t understand the word no. He expected excellence. I was determined to give him brilliance because he was a high-paying client, but goddamn, I wanted to pull my damn hair out at one o’clock in the morning.
This building should go on the left.
Fuck.
No.
The entrance to the other building was in this exact location and would block the beautiful view of the sunrise to the west. Maybe a tad to the right to give extra space Mr. Armani wanted between each structure.
Shit.
Too far with the fucking fountain he desired. I’d have to put the place up toward the grass he had expressed needed to be the right measurements, but I had to make compromises somewhere. Mr. Armani wouldn’t notice because he wasn’t skilled in math.
Christ!Who was I kidding?Mr. Armani noticed every fucking detail I had changed because he hired people to do the job for him.
“Goddamn it!” I yelled as my voice echoed off the walls, and I banged my forehead against the desk.
Suddenly, my cell phone beeped. I released a loud groan and reached for my cell phone.Crap.Not again.
I couldn’t take any more changes out of that arrogant SOB’s mouth this early on a damn Monday morning. I’d rather crawl into bed and, scream constant profanities into my fucking pillow than hear anymore from him. He tried my patience, and I wanted this fucking job over with.
As grumpy as I might be, I tried hard to work in peace. Tranquility helped me get each project done. Mr. Armani’s constant interference made me want to take a gun and blow my fucking brains out.
The screen lit up. I squinted. My eyes adjusted to the bright illumination in my dimly lit room, and I couldn’t believe it.
The text message wasn’t from Mr. Armani. It was my neighbor who never contacted me. Intrigued, I opened the text message.
Noelle Evergreen:I know it’s early, but I couldn’t sleep.
My heart skipped a beat.Elle couldn’t go to bed because of me?I replied, my fingers typing impatiently.
Me:Why?
I changed her contact name toLittle Elleand grinned when her text popped up almost instantly.
Little Elle:I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
My smirk widened.
Me:I don’t blame you, princess.
Elle took a full minute to respond. The three dots kept dancing, then stopping, only to move again.
Little Elle:Gross.
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. Bingo. I hit a nerve. Elle was stalling. I’d get the truth out of her.
Me:I don’t buy the bullshit, Elle. I didn’t disgust you when my mouth made love to your sweet pussy, and now you can’t sleep because of me.
Little Elle:Don’t let your ego inflate your head, old man.
Me:Eating you out has nothing to do with my head but everything to do with my tongue.
