The Business of Revenge

Friends and Faults

I had lost my mind. I had gone completely and utterly insane.

I guess it was a good thing my body clock never could recalibrate itself. I was always up by six in the morning if that. I was far from a morning person, but I had trained my body to wake up at the crack of dawn so that I had the time to both contemplate my life and organise myself into some semblance of a successful woman.

That had been the old me anyways before I was destroyed by a man who I don't think deserves his name even to flicker through my thoughts.

I knew I would need my business attire sometime soon; I could feel it in my bones.

Of course, I knew a brooding CEO would deliberately blackmail me into working for him so that he could destroy my ex-fiancé.

What a typical Monday morning for me.

I stared at myself, it had taken me forever to decide, a stylish suit or pencil skirt, I knew I was a PA, and the pencil skirt was a safe option but when had I ever played it safe?

Never. That was the answer.

My reckless acceptance of this offer was proof enough.

So, there I stood, straight-legged black trousers, ironed within an inch of their life so any creases would quiver at my wrath. I had a simple white blouse, a bold choice when I knew my first errand would probably be to fetch some coffee. In preparation, I had already looked into what sort of coffee Mr Emerson liked, luckily, I had a restaurant order receipt for that. It was odd that he had ordered coffee with his well-done steak, but who was I to judge?

It was just as I had expected, straight black coffee, with no sugar or cream, dark like his soul.

The total opposite of the instant coffee mixes I was addicted to.

So, I had already planned my route, coffee on the way, my favourite bakery conveniently owned by my best friends Kian and Marelle, and I'm sure Aish would be hanging about too. I had yet to tell them about this, but it would be one hell of a story to tell.

Hey guys, I got accosted by a surly businessman and threatened to help him take down my arse of an ex, yeah Nik, the douche, I'm going to make him suffer.

Kian would high-five me, Marelle would scold me and Aish would give me ideas that she kept hidden in her headscarf, wrapped up and ready to work their magic, she had one hell of a brain, the secret smarty of the group that had a doctorate she didn't want anyone to know about.

I paired a blazer and some closed-toe black heels, to finish the outfit. I dug out the sleek black satchel I used to take everywhere and slung it over my shoulder remembering it still had my emergency kit, all the things you would need, hand sanitiser, cream, paracetamol, pads, the lot.

I had a notebook and my pencil case with all the cute stationary I promised myself I would use. I shoved in my laptop, closing the buckle and tugging on it twice just to make sure it didn't fall apart like the rest of my life.

That was it really, some light makeup, mascara, a touch of a lipliner I probably had since I was 19, a spritz of a perfume that had lost its label, and one last glance in the mirror and I was off.

My phone in hand, keys dangling precariously and everything in the first step I would take out the door, once again Andrea Laurence, corporate official, administrator.

A fancy way of saying personal assistant but if the truth needed to be bent a little who was I to say no?

Out the door, no car since I had no money at all left after bills, food and books, just a travel card that had saved my life on countless occasions. That was the thing about London, lots of public transport to push you through each of the towering businesses around.