𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐬

So there I was, sprawled on one of those sleek, designer chairs in Victoria Monét's office, feeling a bit too good about myself. Victoria's always been a bit of a nightmare-cold, demanding, and all too aware of her own importance. But somehow, we got along just fine. I guess my endless flirting and cheeky comments made it hard for her to stay completely irritated with me. I mean, who could resist this charm?

Anyway, I leaned back and asked, "So, Miss Monét, what's on today's schedule?" I was ready to either flirt with a new client or maybe sneak in a bit of time to hit the latest club.

Victoria, who was busy flipping through a stack of papers with a scowl on her face, looked up and said, "Actually, you have the day off. I only need you here in my office taking notes and such."

"Wait, so I don't really have the day off, then," I said, raising an eyebrow. She shot me one of those glares that could melt steel, but before I could comment on it, I asked, "What am I taking notes on, exactly?"

Victoria's eyes narrowed. "Miss Knowles, you know her?"

"Not really," I replied, shrugging. "People my age usually don't mix with the 'Miss' crowd."

Victoria's face softened a bit. "Well, she's here today to pitch another book or something. She's an incredible writer, and I'm curious about what she's been working on."

I wasn't thrilled. Why did this Miss Knowles get to work on her own schedule when she was clearly the one needing help?

The intercom buzzed, interrupting my train of thought. Victoria's assistant's voice crackled through, announcing, "She just stepped out of the elevator."

Victoria's posture stiffened as she straightened her suit jacket and ran her fingers through her hair. I watched, somewhat bemused, as she cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure. Not that I'd ever seen Victoria so nervous-usually, she was all business, no mess.

"Look presentable," she snapped at me, which only made me smirk.

I rolled my eyes but complied, crossing my legs and resting my elbow on the armrest, chin resting on my fist.

There was barely a knock before Victoria shouted, "Come in!"

The door swung open, and bam-my senses were hit with a wave of Chanel N°5. If heaven had a scent, this was it. And oh boy, this Miss Knowles was a sight for sore eyes. She strolled in like she owned the place, her every step radiating confidence. She was wearing a pair of faint blue skinny jeans that hugged her curves just right, white Louboutins that added a touch of class, and a brown belt cinching her waist. Her satin white shirt was half-rolled up, showing off her smooth skin and giving a hint of the white bikini she had on underneath. Her honey-blonde hair cascaded down her back in a perfect silk press. And there was a white Birkin bag hanging out around her shoulder, where a stack of files was nonchalantly tucked away.