"Pepita, please slow down. We just paid two hundred dollars to get those paws cleaned."
The white Samoyed at the end of the leash paid my words no mind and continued to terrorize every squirrel she could find and sniffing every other dog's butt. I felt stupid talking to a dog like that in public, but Mrs. Raleigh was convinced her precious pup would be able to eventually speak English if we continued to talk to her like we would another person.
I quickened my pace to a jog as Pepita strained towards the Bow Bridge, yipping excitedly. A frozen shudder crawled down my spine, which I shook off hastily. I never knew why Mrs. Raleigh made me walk Pepita in the coldest time of the day. Dogs can get frostbitten too.
But working for Mrs. Raleigh meant you did everything he asked you to, or you might as well kiss your job goodbye.
A giant Saint Bernard lumbered by but stopped to greet Pepita, which the smaller dog answered by growling ferociously. I pulled her back and put a hand to block the Saint Bernard's muzzle.
"I'm sorry, but please keep your dog away. She's very expensive," I looked at the owner. The woman gave me a sharp look before scoffing and tugging the dog away.
"Sorry! I don't make the rules," I called after her. She ignored me.
My phone buzzed just as Pepita began running again. There was only one person this could be. I answered on the first ring. Mr. Raleigh hated when people wasted his time, more than anything else.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Raleigh."
"Piper. Where are you?" His voice was tighter than usual - must be because he had stayed until midnight last night, working on his piles of project. Which also meant I stayed until midnight as well, assisting him.
"Walking Pepita," I stopped suddenly, "What, is there something you need me to do?"
"I asked you to move all my appointments one hour later today, as I would come in late. I missed three appointments, Piper. Come to my office immediately."
"Mrs, Raleigh just sent me out to walk Pepita," I protested, "And -"
"Immediately."
"Yes, immediately, sir."
He hung up. I exhaled loudly and turned around.
For working so hard to earn so much money, the rich sure didn't know how to do things themselves. Mr. Raleigh was only slightly older than me, and yet he ran an entire hotel empire by himself. Granted, the chain was started by Mrs. Raleigh, but he was taking over for his mother. She was retiring at the ripe old age of 46. Yes. 46 years old.
So while Mrs. Raleigh attended housewife get togethers and baby showers, I was the assistant running around until my legs fell off. Not necessarily a bad thing though, as Mr. Raleigh paid a very nice salary, and I was getting my daily intensive cardio in.
I dropped Pepita off at the Raleigh penthouse and raced to the office, where I fell at my desk - all in ten minutes. As usual, as if with a sixth sense, Mr. Raleigh's door opened instantly. His dark green eyes speared me with a sharp look as he turned back into his office - a cue to follow.
I leapt to my feet and followed him. I plopped into the seat across his desk, watching him run his hand through his dark brown hair in exasperation. Uncharacteristic. I'm safe for today.
"I will move and rebook your appointments immediately. My apologies, Mr. Raleigh, but I completely forgot, since -"
"Look at this." My employer dropped a magazine onto his desk and twisted it to face me, "Read it."
YOU ARE READING
The Fundamentals of the Wealthy
RomancePiper Lockhart has worked for Mr. Raleigh for two years and counting, and the paychecks aren't getting any bigger. If working for such an unforgiving, demanding, good looking man isn't bad enough, she works for his entire family - including Pepita...