Selfish Love [18 + Mature]

Chapter Five -- Sadie

Chapter Five

"Six, including assistants," Greg jarred me back to reality as he went over the arrangements for my lunch meeting next week in London. As I crossed my legs and turned my white high-backed leather chair from side to side, I realized I didn't know who the meeting was with or why it was happening. Two worse things couldn't have occurred simultaneously in a business setting.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck Maxime fucking-Laurent.

"Remind me again why this couldn't be done over Zoom or the phone?" I raised my eyes to Greg who smirked his playful little smirk, and in my mood, I wanted to put my playful fist through his playful face.

"Thomas Grant," he said the two words and they brought everything into focus like he knew they would.

Fuck Thomas Grant.

I pursed my lips and nodded a little, how could I have forgotten about the little tete-a-tete he half demanded when he found out I gutted his favorite little press, the one where he published all of his little torture porn dark erotica.

"This is going to be fun," I beamed and kicked off spinning myself in a circle. Greg chuckled.

"You know I love that about you, most don't get to see it but you're fun." There was a tone to his voice I didn't like. It was an opening and I ignored it. Greg wanted to fuck me, which I couldn't decide if it was a career move or otherwise. Either way, the thought of vanilla frat boy sex with Greg bored me greatly. He looked the type to get judgmental the first time I tried to stick something up his ass.

I rolled my eyes and stood, then walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the view of the city—most of it below. London would reinvigorate me, I needed to get away from home and a certain someone. A month or two at the London offices and I'd be myself again—or at least I convinced myself as much. Two weeks passed since I gave the graduation speech at Holton University and I was still dwelling on Maxime. However, I deleted him from my phone and buried his file with the others of prospective subs that didn't pan out for one reason or another.

"Make the arrangements for a two-month stay, touch base with our London offices, and let Rhys know it's an extended stay," I barked orders as I stood on my tip toes for a moment.

"Are you letting Mr. Dansk know, or should I?"

You're lucky your daddy has money because you're too dumb to breathe, kid.

"That's why I pay you the big bucks, besides the board isn't meeting again until August and I can take the meeting with Rhys," I sighed and kicked my feet a bit. "If you can't handle the extended time away you can stay here, and I can borrow Rhys's assistant. This isn't my first rodeo, big boy." Turning on my heel I walked for the door, my steps echoing on the shiny white marble floor with its veins of grey.

"I can't stay in London very long. I have rent and—"

Thank fuck, I won't have to deal with him anymore.

"That's fine," I cut him off as he trailed me to elevators. "Make arrangements with Rhys's assistant or pull someone from our pool. I won't tolerate some dumb ass who is just in it for what they think will be a free London vacation." Was it bad that knowing I'd be free of Greg put a smile on my face? He was a decent assistant. I'd had both better and worse but I hated nepotism with a passion, and I knew he was only my assistant because his dad played golf regularly with my CFO's father. If Paxton Dansk wasn't so good at his job, I would have held it against him more than avoiding him like a pouty preteen who was mad at their dad.