Simi Dior is the top hotel industrialist of her time, and truly gives zero fucks. Trisha Sullivan is most notorious for her elegance on the runway. She can wow a crowd within a second. So what happens when an extroverted, top notch runway model and...
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Trisha's outfit
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Simi's Outfit
POV: Simi
"TRISHA.GET.YOUR.ASS.DOWN.HERE.RIGHT.NOW!" I yell from the bottom of the stairs. Why the actual fuck is she so late every single time. All I want to do is get there on time but noooooo she always has to be fucking late.
"Hey Simi-" Trisha starts, but then falls down the stairs, she takes the end of the heels that she has broken for the fifth time, and stands back up.
"Shit, ok, let's go"
"TRISHA HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO WEAR HEELS. YOUR DUMBASS WILL FALL EVERY TIME!" I yell. This bitch is going to make me late AGAIN.
"Well, my stylist wanted this style of street fashion, I gotta trust her,"
"You are a fucking dumbass...get in the damn car."I sternly order this bitch, I don't have time for her shit.
"Alright, alright, bitch. Hold up, I need to take a pic of my new cypress bag."
"Isn't Cypress a tree though?"
"Ah but see here, the engravings of the authentic artificial leather from Austri-"
"Shut up I don't give a shit....put your damn seatbelt on before I throw you out the window." I interjected.
"Fine fine....hurry up and drive already," Trisha said with a scoff. I gave her a stone-cold glare and started to drive.
We pull up into the street of my magnificent hotel, and I back up into my reserved parking spot.
"Little shit get outta the damn car"
"You really shouldn't be calling me little, you realize that right?"
"Shut up asshole and get the fuck out of the damn car. You are going to be late."
"I mean, it takes Mr. Garbachi an hour to arrive anyways. This man is thicker than that vulture we saw eating the dead deer by the side of the road," she states truthfully. She is not wrong though, the floors of my hotel shake every time he walks in. Ugh, I don't have time for this.
"Get out before I get you fired from your job."
"Geez fine," she finally gives in, while grabbing her "cypress" bags from the trunk.
"Finally." I saw with a sigh with relief. I strutted to the main entrance and walked into the building. Heads turned as I entered the building
"Hello, Ms.Dior." My assistant Frederick cooed.
"Fredrick shut up and do your work, stop trying you dumbass," Trisha cackled from behind as she too enters the building. Frederick turns to his computer as we both exchange barrels of laughter
"The fuck just happened between you two?" I questioned with a transfixed look on my face.
"The little fuckboy has a crush on y-"
"Trisha! Would you like to be shoved in a trash can then rolled off a cliff?" Frederick cut Trisha off with a wicked smile.
"Say that again, and your ass is getting dragged to the rat house,"
"Trisha shut the fuck up and get to your shoot, Frederick goes to my office and gives me the rundown on all of the stocks with Building I," I say making my way to my elevator.
"Mmmmm," Trisha starts with that stupid smirk of hers, "Ok, also I'm going to have to leave a bit earlier since April might burn down the house THAT WE PRETTY MUCH BOUGHT." She suddenly screams.
"Oh and I have the 73 questions for Vogue interview," she adds.
"Wait but you can't drive with those heels on...and I am not letting you drive my car barefoot...I will drive you."
"You do realize that I have three different outfits in my cypress bags right? Oh and I'm too lazy to drive, so thanks,"
"Bitch" I murmured.
"FREDERICK WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT THOSE REPORTS!" Jesus Christ everyone is a dumbass here.
"Yes ma'am! Anything for you, darling," Frederick squeaked.
I roll my eyes and walk up into my office on the fiftieth floor, and I watch Trisha walk into her dressing room. I open my computer and am immediately greeted by an overflow of unread emails and documents that I had told Frederick the Dick to take care of. Ugh, I need to fire that dumbass shriveled dick short man.
Tick Tock Tick Tock
Four hours passed and I only got 399 documents done. I let out an exasperated groan. I cocked my head to the side looking at my clock. Shit, it's 4:20 we gotta get home. I got up from my black plush swivel chair and rushed out of my office.
"Frederick..." I called... there was no reply...
"Frederick..." I called out once more. Where in the hell is he?
"Heyyyy girlie," Frederick slurs as he suddenly pops out of my goddamn cabinet.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask this creepy perverted bitch.
"I think I lo-" Frederick continues to slur while walking closer to me.
"BACK THE FUCK UP, BITCH" Trisha screams as she enters my office, though her ruined stiletto heel at Frederick in the dick. While he is on the ground in pain, I ram my heel into his side, maybe breaking a rib or two. I clear my throat then face Trisha.
"Let's go to the car," I said making my way over the body on the ground.
"Oh, and call the ambulance while I'm getting the car..."
"HAHAHAHAH THIS BITCH IS SO DUMB!" Trisha cackled,
"Ok now let's go home before our house burns up in flames,
Hey y'all thank you for reading the first chapter. Hope you enjoyed!
