I've Changed

15. our little secret

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"Girl," Malcom briskly sits next to me and throws his legs on my lap. "These shoes are giving me blisters."

"We don't want to upset our guests," I guide his legs off my own.

"But my feet are more expensive than anyone here," he complains.

I must've given him a certain look because he laughs, "I'm joking goddess," he lies, knowing damn well he's genuinely not. "How was Mr. Lewis anyways? I walked by earlier and he was still gloating."

I roll my eyes, "I cut him off the project."

"No way!" He gasps. "I knew it. We give people like him a chance and they use it to their advantage. I warned grandpa about him by the way and look what happened."

"Well, you know your grandpa."

He sighs, "just like you."

I turn my head. He smiles in return.

"Come on goddess," he places a hand on my knee, "Both of you are too forgiving and too hopeful on bad people turning good."

"Russo does his job well because he places boundaries while also giving people an opportunity to fix their mistakes and learn from them. We're all human." I explain.

His smile broadens, "You know, you'd be a great CEO."

I actually scoff.

"I mean it," he winks, "Anyways, what happened after you cut him off?"

"I walked away."

"Boss behavior, like I said."

"Mr.Lewis encourages professionalism so I talked to Russo and he said that he'll take care of it."

He hums, "he didn't believe you when you ended it?"

"Why would he? I'm only an assistant. I don't have the authority."

"Good point."

We spend a good minute or two analyzing the crowded dance floor from our table.

"Can you do me a favor?" He asks. "I need a drink, please?"

I get up casually, "Yes, your highness." He blows me a kiss as a thanks.

As I make my way to the bar, the final dance is announced. I make an effort to avoid the accumulating guests but their eagerness pulls me to the centre with them.

"Lost?" Someone takes my wrist and spins me to face them.

You've got to be kidding.

"May I help you?" I ask, annoyance laced in my voice.

"We didn't finish our conversation earlier," a mellow song plays, a sign for Mr.Lewis to lead the dance. "I found it disrespectful."

"It wasn't really interesting in the first place," I wrench myself free from his grasp. As I manage to do so, he's quick to retrieve it. My eyes narrow at the harshness.

"You can't really go anywhere," he reminds me of the surrounding couples that dance in unison. I'd be putting an awful reputation on myself if I cause a scene, especially when we're nearly in the centre of everyone's attention.

I smile sarcastically, "Mr. Lewis, how much did you donate for tonight's charity?"

"50k," He shrugs like no big deal.

"Where did you get this kind of money?" I raise an eyebrow quite aware that I've caught him red-handed.

His face changes to a deep scowl. The grip on my waist tightens which causes me to accidentally step on his foot.