𝟑: 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐠

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Following Victoria was already a bad idea

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Following Victoria was already a bad idea. She was in one of her ultra-productive moods, strutting around the office like she had a million-dollar deal in her pocket, and meanwhile, I was hungover as hell. Last night? A mess. After dinner with wifey, I hit the club to, well, you know... actually get some action, ‘cause Miss Knowles left me hanging. Wet, frustrated, and unsatisfied.

So here I was, trying to play catch-up with the boss lady, who didn’t seem to notice the way I kept wincing at every loud noise. Just as she was rattling off some other task, she said, “Miss Knowles’ draft—I need someone to deliver it to her. I’ve made some corrections.”

And before I could think twice, I yelled, “I volunteer!”

Victoria turned, eyebrow raised, giving me this what the hell look. I smiled, trying to play it cool. “I mean... I volunteer.”

She just shook her head, clearly not in the mood for my theatrics, and handed me the draft. “Here you go. I’ll send you her address and the code for her gate.”

Score. This was my shot. Sure, I messed up dinner, but maybe this was fate, sending me right back to wifey’s mansion. And a mansion it was—when I pulled up to the gate and punched in the code, the gate swung open like I was rolling into some kind of palace. Miss Knowles’ palace.

The driveway stretched out forever, and by the time I parked, I was half regretting my enthusiasm. But there was no turning back now. I knocked on the massive front door, and it opened like magic. Only, it wasn’t magic. It was a little girl, maybe seven or so, with the same scowl Miss Knowles gave me when she didn’t like something.

Oh shit. Is this her daughter?

Before I could figure out how to talk to a kid, a maid came running up, scolding the girl in this thick French accent. “Mademoiselle Blue, you mustn’t open the door without me!” The maid turned to me and gave a polite smile. “Apologies, mademoiselle. Please, come inside.”

Oh, the accent. I grinned. “Say that again. Sounds sexy.”

She looked at me like I was crazy. Oops. “Okay, sorry,” I muttered, following her into the house.

The living room was huge. Like, I’ve been to fancy houses before, but this was next-level. There was this big-ass chandelier and a grand piano just chilling in the corner. I had no clue where to sit, so I kinda just stood there, trying not to look too out of place.

Then, out of nowhere, this big-ass dog came running at me. I jumped back, swearing under my breath, and of course, the dog thought I was playing. It started barking, all hyped up, tail wagging like crazy.

“Yo, get your bitch ass away from me!” I yelled, trying to wave it off. But the dog was persistent, snapping at my handbag like it was a damn chew toy.

“Shoo! Shoo! Go!” I tried to back up, but it wasn’t working. The damn dog grabbed my handbag, biting down on it, and I squealed, hitting it with the draft papers. That only made things worse—the dog took the damn papers, tearing some of them to shreds. Great.

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