Leo
“As you can see, this project will help the company increase profits by almost ten percent over the course of the next two years.” My interns drone on as they present their project ideas to me. Thank God I’m not in charge of them, because half of the ideas they come up with would never make it in this company. I pay other people a lot of money to work with them and their lazy ideas.
“Thank you for your great ideas. We will review and get back to you next week.” Marvin, the head of the intern program, is much more polite than I would be. I watch as they scuttle out of the conference room in a hurry. I created this program when I founded my company, otherwise I would leave this solely up to other people now. Even though their ideas aren’t original, I still like playing an active role in this part of the company.
“How bad was that pitch?” He turns his gaze on me, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Considering it’s the same idea I’ve heard from every single intern this week, boring and overused. You’ve got your work cut out for you this year if you’re going to make them employees worthy of Scott Communications.”
I close my portfolio, standing and smoothing my tie.
“If they came to us groomed, Leo, then there would be no point in working with them.”
“I just hope our new project manager is better than they are.”
“God help them if they have to work with you.” Marvin claps me on the back as he heads down towards his office. Taking the elevator to mine, I welcome the reprieve of not having any more meetings this afternoon. Running a billion-dollar company has its downfalls. Meetings for every little thing is one of them.
Loosening my tie, I gaze out at the view before me. Floor-to-ceiling windows highlight the comings and goings of the harbour. It’s prime real estate in Sydney, and I wouldn’t have my office in any other place.
I start scrolling through the endless emails I amassed while taking a mere thirty minutes out of my usual tasks to attend that meeting. The work never ends. Issues that people could solve on their own always make their way to my desk. It’s one of the worst parts of my job.
Then Stella comes in and drops a stack of paperwork on my desk. “The contractor called and let me know that the paperwork for the new project wasn’t received.”
Problems like this. A careless error that is now mine to handle. “And who do I need to call regarding this?”
“Bobby.” She ducks out of my office quickly, not wanting to be around for him getting chewed out.
“Mr. Scott. How can I help you?” he answers on the first ring.
“Stella informed me that the paperwork for the telecom project wasn’t received. Is there a reason it wouldn’t have been sent over last week?” My voice is firm.
“Sir. I sent it over yesterday after our final meeting. I don’t know why it wasn’t received.” He sounds nervous. No one likes to get on my bad side.
“This is why you are paid a shit-ton of money. To make sure mistakes like this aren't made. Fix it.”
I slam the phone down, ending the call. The work piling up this month has been endless. With new projects coming on board and acquiring new companies, I have been going nonstop. Now I have to make sure that this oversight doesn’t push us back and cost us money.
“Mr. Scott. It's almost nine. Are you going to be heading home for the evening? Or do you need further assistance?” Stella pops her head in the door. Looking up from the computer, I realize the last several hours have passed in a blur.
“You can head home. Enjoy your weekend.” I give her a curt nod before turning my attention back to the papers towering on my desk.
Fuck it. I need a drink. There aren’t any good pubs on this side of the harbour, but there's a place where I can pop in for a quick drink before heading back to my empty flat.
The club takes up the basement floor of the building across the street. This type of club isn't my usual watering hole, but the drinks are strong, and maybe if I'm lucky, I can find a distraction for the evening. It's crowded for a Friday night. The dance floor is crawling with people. Sweat and liquor hang heavy in the air as I push my way to the bar.
“What'll it be?”
“Scotch. Best you have.” The bartender pounds his fist on the bar before grabbing a bottle from the top shelf and pouring me a glass.
“Cheers.” I slide over my credit card. “Start a tab.”
The scotch goes down easy, wiping away the worries from work. Women sidle up to me, trying to get my attention, but I ignore them. It always happens.
But a flash of light draws my attention to the other side of the bar. A woman with a smile plastered on her face is laughing at the bartender, sipping on a drink. Her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip. Fuck, my dick thickens against my zipper.
Visceral. That's the only way to describe my reaction to her. With long hair that I want to wrap around my fist as I slam into her and a lithe body, she's the sexiest woman in the club tonight. And I’m not the only one that thinks so. Everyone around her is sucked into her vortex, their eyes never leaving her.
Tossing back the rest of my drink, I roll up my sleeves and make my way over to her.
