23 year old, Fatima's life was well planned out when she finished her college studies in Stanford University. Coming back home in London, she'd planned to take a gap year and have time to figure out what she really wanted to do with her life. Everyt...
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"What the fuck happened to my money, Louis?" I trailed off banging the table with my fists.
I hated it when I lost money and I had just discovered that I lost about three million pounds in just two months. Someone was stealing from me and they were going to regret messing with me.
"I don't know, Sir, I..."
"Shut the fuck up! I want my money before the end of this week or else you're fired. You hear me?" I told him.
"But sir..."
"No freaking buts, Louis. Go out there and look for my money, I don't care how. I want it back. Leave!" I ordered him and he ran out of my office.
I wasn't going to take this lying down, I wanted my money back, one way or another. I was going to get it back.
I sat back down feeling all frustrated and angry, not knowing what to do. A few minutes ago, I was happy, I had just came back from Dubai for a conference. It was such a great experience. I was in such a good mood, happy to be back only to be welcomed with bad news. I hated bad news. I sat there thinking about my money.
Just then I received a call from my father, probably calling to find out if I had come back yet. I picked my phone up.
"Now is not a good time, father."
"You're in a mood. What's going on, son?" He asked.
"Nothing I cannot handle," I stated dryly. "What can I do for you?"
"I called to find out if you got home safely. But you don't sound okay," he said.
'Damn right.'
I thought to myself even though I didn't say it.
"Father, can we talk later or tomorrow? It's really not a good time right now. Please."
"Alright. Whatever is bothering you, don't hesitate to ask me for help."
"Yes, but no thanks, father. This is my problem so I'll take care of it the way I see fits. I have to go." Before he could respond I hung up. I stood up and poured myself my whiskey. I downed it in one go. The lost money was stressing me out.
"Mr Caruso..."
"What?" I growled.
"I need your signature, sir," Debbie, my assistant said coming towards me. She had a black dress that perfectly shaped her body with black heels. She was hot.
