A/N: This chapter will be told through Elias's point of view. It takes place during the events of Chapters 3 & 4, right before his first encounter with Aubrey.
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My phone pings, notifying me of yet another important email that needs to be read upon retrieval. I seamlessly scroll through my inbox and read the dozens of messages cluttering it.
Business meetings here, press conferences there, special appearances elsewhere - all the usual in my busy day-to-day routine.
Leisure is not a word that I've come to know these past six years. I hardly have a private life and when I do, it's always the subject of some apocryphal gossip.
What's my availability, what I'm wearing, what's the next move for Everett Enterprises, and let's not forgot the most frequently asked question - how does it feel to be the heir of such a massive company?
Being the profound owner of a million dollar company only seems to add more years of stress to my longevity.
Yet, they've deemed me the golden boy of modern day business - an idol for both men and women alike.
The perfect image of a successful businessman.
I guess father would be proud of his son, having forced me into a lineage of egomaniacal big wigs who want nothing more than to proclaim their superiority over the global market.
But alas, I am my father's son - the prodigous son of Archibald Everett, founder of the renowned Everett Enterprises.
Curse father and this burden of a company.
I sit at my desk, looking over my schedule for today, and inaudibly skim through the latest issue of Forbes Magazine. I'm supposed to be attending a photo shoot tomorrow for this month's issue.
They want to get an exclusive look inside the luxurious life of Elias Everett.
As far as I'm concerned, the only luxurious thing in my life is the feeling of serenity I get within the walls of my own office.
Of course, the feeling is only temporary - until some executive worker barges in, slamming irrelevant paperwork on my desk asking for my signature.
I seem to be the ideal businessman in the eye of the public. They speak of me as if I'm a descendant from some almighty corporate heirarchy.
I can't remember the last time I was treated like an ordinary man. Then again, the media doesn't cover 'ordinary.'
They never look past the tailored suits and pseudo smiles. Come to think of it, I can't recall the last time I actually gave a genuine smile.
A subtle knock on the door disturbs the momentary silence in the room and I can hear the shuffling of heels on the other side. No doubt it's the secretary from the front desk.
She vaguely opens the door and peeks her head in, checking to see if I'm here. She seems rather skiddish at times when it comes to addressing me directly.
I gather she still hasn't gotten used to my famed presence. I don't blame her, I find it bothersome at times myself.
I gesture for her to come in as I nonchalantly type away on my laptop.
"Come in, Natalie."
She strides in through the door with a steaming hot coffee in her hand. The aroma is quite inviting.
She inches over to me and neatly sets the coffee down on my desk, careful not to break my concentration.
"Your coffee, sir."
YOU ARE READING
Guilty Pleasure
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