CHAPTER1
CUPID CAN SUCK IT
Lety
The next person who walks in carrying a bouquet of roses that costs more than my rent is getting my high heel shoved up their ass. Starting with that bitch Melanie who has sauntered by not once, not twice, butthreetimes holding an ugly ass vase with flowers from her overseas boyfriend. A boyfriend I’m almost certain doesn’t exist since she never seems to have pictures of them together, despite being soinlove.
The worst, though, are the flowers that come with a singing telegram. Who even knew that was still a thing? Because I certainly didn’t, and after the third rendition of L-O-V-E, I was about ready to fling myself into oncoming traffic.
Needless to say, I fucking hate Valentine’s Day.
I would have taken the day off if I remembered, but the last few weeks have been unusually busy for the office. One of the big boss lawyers, Elias, cut back on office hours to spend more time with his wife, leaving his secretary scrambling to reschedule. Since my boss, César, is his firm partner, I’ve been roped into rescheduling meetings and moving clients around to help ease the load of the other secretary.
Which is fine, I guess. It’s not necessarily hard work, just frustrating. Especially when calendars are looking more like a color-by-number rather than a schedule, leaving it almost impossible to add a new workload onto another lawyer’s plate. César needs to hire another lawyer or two, but his schedule barely allows him time to piss these days. I should know, since I schedule everything for him.
There’s a knock on my door, and I snap my head up, expecting to see another flower delivery, but standing at my open door is Kase, Elias’s secretary, leaning against the doorframe. He’s sucking on a heart-shaped lollipop. Of course. “Lety, do you have a second?”
No.
“Of course.” I give him my best customer service smile, closing my laptop. “What do you need?”
Kase walks in and perches his ass on the edge of my desk, nearly knocking over my bowl of mints. I try not to scowl at him, because I’m not trying to start an office rivalry, and I actually do like Kase. I’m just irritated with all the lovey-dovey shit and cupid nonsense. Just call me the Grinch of Valentine’s Day.
“We got a problem,” he tells me. I sigh because it feels like wealwayshave a problem these days. “The contractor for the winter expansion project needs to reschedule his meeting.”
“Okay, that’s not too bad. When does he want to meet with César?”
“Next Wednesday.”
I take that back. “Fuck.” I quickly open my laptop again and immediately pull up César’s schedule. I know what I’ll find before I see it, but the calendar shows no signs of wiggle room.
“There’s no way he can meet with the contractor on Wednesday. Can’t he do another day? I might be able to schedule him for the following Monday.”
“Nope,” Kase says, popping his lips on the “p.” “He’ll also be booked up for the next two months, so unless César is okay with pushing back his plans to expand the firm, someone’s gotta figure out something. That someone is you, doll.” Kase winks at me before pushing himself off my desk to head out. “Good luck!” he calls over his shoulder before bolting out.
Coward.
I groan, a tension headache coming on. Good thing this job has excellent healthcare or else this stress wouldn’t be worth it. Besides, tonight I’ll take out all my frustration during my show. It’s my little wicked secret—something that allows me to take ownership of my sexuality and ease the stress from the day. Plus, taking money from men is my favorite pastime.
I just have to get through another four hours and a quick meeting with my boss before I can think about my nighttime job. Then I can spend Valentine’s Day doing what I love most.
Myself.
Pushing up from my pink, padded chair, I grab my laptop. César is in between meetings now, which gives me a short window of opportunity to speak with him before his next client. After adjusting my skirt that’s ridden up to an almost scandalous level, I head toward my boss’s office.
Fucking Melanie is still talking about her pretend boyfriend as I pass her, and I do my best not to roll my eyes. I’m tempted to “accidentally” swipe my hand across her desk and knock down her gaudy arrangement of flowers, but I’m a proper lady, so I don’t.
I just think about doing it. Repeatedly.
César’s office is on the third-story. My heels aren’t made for stairs, so I take the elevator, ignoring the judging looks all chubby people get when they opt for the elevator. If they want to be miserable and huff and puff up the stairs, they can have at it. I hold my head a little higher when the doors finally open, and I step inside.
Soft elevator music plays—thankfully not a love song—when I enter and select his floor. I tap my manicured nail against my laptop, checking my watch. Ten minutes until César’s next appointment. I’ll need to be quick.
When the doors open again, I step into the floor’s silence. Gracie, another receptionist, peeks her head up from her desk and offers me a smile. “Lety, how’s it going down under?”
“Oh, you know. It’s like cupid threw up all over the place. Is César in his office?” He should be, but I ask anyway in case he ran off to the bathroom or went in search of something to eat.
Gracie nods. “He is. His next clients are here, so he’ll be busy soon. I’d hurry if you need to talk with him.”
