My Big Fat Demons [Revised]

Today's Special (3)

Ruvik's POV

Sebastian refuses to talk to me. He only mutters words when necessary. Right now he is staring down at his notebook while we attended a boring meeting about how the company is doing. I never pay any attention. These meetings are never for me anyway. They're basically meetings for my employees to prove that they're doing the job they're being paid for.

"So we are declining in the number of local authors we pull in due to bookstores refusing to sponsor the book signings in this area." This preppy slut said. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. With the only friend I have currently giving me the cold shoulder, I am in no mood to deal with this shit.

"Pack up your things and go home," I said deadpanned. She gasped and frantically looked around the room.

"Wh-why S-sir?" She stuttered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"For one, you are literally telling me what I already know. These meetings are to educate on what we don't know. Literally the sole purpose. For two, we are NOT declining in local authors. We as a company are soaring in numbers that are causing our stocks to skyrocket profoundly." I stated in a bored tone. Leaving her a stuttering mess, I exited the conference room and headed to my office. I had so much shit to do today and the will to do absolutely none of it. I honestly do not have time to deal with this crap. Why should I feel bad for stating facts? It's not my fault she decided she was confident enough to leave the house.

"Vanessa, hold all my calls for the day. I am going to browse bookstores for an upcoming book signing." I ordered as I walked past my secretary.

"Uh, yes Sir!" she chirped. I hit the button on my private elevator and waited for it to come up. My secretary reminded me of a chirpy little fairy. She has a very tiny figure with a pixie cut. She's worked for us for a while now. She's considered legendary around the office because people never last that long. I am not a cold-hearted dick, I just like for work to get done. Why is it so hard for people to just do their fucking job?

"Where to, Sir?" My driver asked.

"Helda's Bookstore," I answered briskly and slid into the car. After he shut my door he walked over to the driver's side and slid in. The vehicle came to life and we began driving. Helda's Bookstore is owned by a fragile old man who's probably looking to sell soon. My hope is to convince him to sell to me. Then Helda's will be the main spot for local book signings. My phone vibrated off alerting me of an email

To: Ruben Victoriano

From: Tre Reynolds

Subject: New Talent

A promising artist's work was brought to my attention. No one knows who this person is but the work is outstanding. They're on a well-known site called Wattpad. Should we look into it? The file is attached.

Reynolds.

I opened the attached file and began reading the content. From just the beginning I was drawn in like a fish to a hook. The graphic detail left me palming my hard-on. Reynolds knows of my taste for the BDSM world. Only because he walked in on me and Sebastian once. I didn't have to explain anything. Reynolds knows his place. I continued to scroll through the story when I realized we came to a stop and didn't move. I looked up to see that we arrived at the bookstore. My attention returned to the excerpt that Reynolds had sent me. Out of curiosity, I pulled up the entire story. It was in the works and looks like it is updated weekly. When it came to an end I groaned in frustration. The scene that was painted in my mind was like no other. Of course, I have done things similar to what was written. However, what was written so far had a huge emotional attachment that left me feeling both uncomfortable and aroused. I slid my phone into my jacket pocket and exited the car.

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Fifteen minutes later shook hands with the old guy who owns the business. He was eager to accept my offer to use his establishment for a book signing. Probably because the old hag wanted to retire soon. If this event goes well, future events will definitely allow him to retire. Perhaps I could talk him into selling the business itself. My signings are more like high-class parties. It makes more money that way. For the owner of the establishment, me, and the authors. This world is all about making money. That's what I've learned in my lifetime. Money is key. The key that will open whatever door you want to be opened.

While I waited for the old man to sign the contract, I peered out of the window. My brilliant mind went to work as I visualized the party. I will have the entire street blocked off and a red carpet placed. Yes, it will be perfect.

"Is it alright if my employee attends the signing? I want her to represent my company. She is the future owner of it, she just doesn't know it yet." The hag said with a croaky voice.

"Employee? Singular?" I didn't mask the shock in my voice. The old man nodded sadly. I gave my best fake smile. This was to mask the irritation of knowing I'd be dealing with some rogue employee I'd have to win over in order to be able to do what I want.

"Absolutely. I look forward to meeting her." I lied. I honestly didn't want anyone interfering with my business, at least I only have one ignorant employee to worry about. If it will get me this space then so be it. It was the biggest bookstore in the city. Honestly, I was shocked to find out that this ticking time bomb owned this magnificent space. I would have to buy it from this "new" owner. I would make it mine.

After deciding to buy this company from under whoever will own it next, I collected my contract and said goodbye. I called up Reynolds and informed him of the news. I also told him to do whatever it takes to find the owner of the magnificent story I just read. I am eager to get my hands on the rest of the story. It would truly make a great novel.

I text Sebastian to see if he was interested in getting lunch. Of course, he doesn't reply. I opted for getting Chinese and returning to the office. Upon entering the Chinese restaurant I am pleased to see a beautiful goth looking woman working the cash register. I tighten my tie and approach once the last customer leaves.

"Hello there." I keep my voice husky and low. She looks up with a smile that looks forced and like it has been plastered on her miserable face all day. A smile that fades and quickly turns into what looks like a snarl.

"Hi." Her voice is curt and low.

"What's a pretty thing like you working in a dump like this?" I gave her a flirtatious wink.

"What's an asshole like you ordering from a dump like this?" She shot back with a fake sarcastic smile.

"Feisty. I love it. Are you doing anything this weekend?" I asked her. She scoffed while shaking her head in disbelief. As if she couldn't believe I'm hitting on her. Her eyes were an abnormal color, perhaps she wore contacts. The eyes themselves appeared too big for her face giving her a cartoonish look. I'd say they're the first thing you notice, the second would be the fiery red lipstick she wore.

"You mean besides chopping your pathetic little balls off and making it the special of the week?" She glared at me. An older Chinese man walks over right after asking, "Is he bothering you, Missie?"

"No, Sir. I was just telling this gentleman that we don't serve pig here." The hatred in her eyes burns through me. I stiffened at her words. The look in her eyes told me all I need to know. And that is that this woman must be friends with Sebastian or something. Keeping my face expressionless, I turned and left the empty restaurant. I sent a text to my assistant to have something delivered to my office that's from anywhere but here.

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