Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,6
and I needed more assistance to cover the workload. It wasn’t a terrible problem to have. It was exactly what I’d been working for since I graduated over ten years ago. I’d worked tirelessly even through college to dig this company—my family’s company—out of the rubble it’d been left in.
My grandfather and father had done their best, but outside sources played dirty when my family didn’t, and it left us falling behind.
I wouldn’t let it happen to me. I played fair—for the most part—but I also played smarter, harder. I had patience and a plan, and with that, I’d outwit the competition who’d cheated to the top.
Which was why I micromanaged as Ryan accused. This company—this plan—meant more to me than anything, and I’d do whatever it took to succeed. Even if it meant tirelessly interviewing each candidate myself.
I’d needed five new employees. Three were already filled, leaving two to go. Maybe today would be the day a competent candidate would come in and blow my mind, allowing me to leave this city and go back to the warm, open air of Charleston.
My cell phone vibrated, and Xander’s name crossed the screen.
“Hey, asshole,” I greeted my friend from college.
“I saw I missed your call earlier. What’s up? Need another shell company?”
Xander worked in computer technology and could create an entire world to look real on the internet from nothing. He was a genius, and I utilized every talent to my cause—my revenge.
“Maybe I just missed your voice.”
“Oh, yeah. You like that,” he said in his deep baritone like Barry White.
“Tell Nicholas I said hi,” his wife shouted from the background.
“Maggie says, hi.”
“Shouldn’t she be worried to find you talking like that on the phone?”
“Nah, I only talk to you like that. I use a different voice with her.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
We both laughed before he sobered and asked again what I had called for earlier.
“I just wanted to check up on any new information you gathered. More stocks are coming up on the market, and I want to make sure I’m prepared for all possibilities.”
“You know I would call you if I had anything. So far, all is quiet.”
“Yeah, it’s just been a while since I could acquire new stocks. I’m antsy.”
“Have you tried calling up one of your black-book-ladies?”
My mind flashed to the stunning brunette at the restaurant I’d been unable to get off my mind. Shaking my head, I shoved it aside, annoyed that I’d only looked at her and still thought of her a week later. “Not since I’ve been in this damn city,” I grumbled.
“Oh, yeah. New York always makes you pissy. Go get laid and know I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Anything else? You sound more irritable than usual, which is saying something.”
“Very funny. I’ve got a day full of interviews ahead of me.”
“Still trying to replace that one chick?” he asked, laughing.
“Beth,” I grumbled.
“You could always call her,” he joked. “Or…who was the other one?”
“Shut up, asshole.”
He laughed at my luck of hiring women who had applied to the job just to get close to me in hopes of bagging the boss. Beth was the most recent culprit and had started by offering to blow one of the supervisors to get placed on a project I headed.
Being desired for my money wasn’t anything new, but I hated it even more because it fucked with my business…which fucked with my plans, and that crossed a line. My life centered around making this company successful enough to take what I wanted.
Add in my disgust for anyone cheating their way to the top, and I fired her instantly.
“I don’t fuck employees.”
“Hey, don’t knock it. I fucked Maggie all over the office and now look at us.”
I choked out a sound of disgust. “Married.”
“Yeah, happily married. Nothing wrong with it.”
“Maybe not. But I’m good without it. Women are a distraction, and I’ve got plenty who are perfectly fine with the occasional meet.”
“Such a playboy,” he joked. “Doesn’t Grandpa Charlie want to see you happily married?”
My lip curled at the thought. I’d do anything for my grandpa to make him happy, but that request was too much. “On that note, I have to go.”
“Mr. Rush. Your first appointment has arrived,” Ryan called through the intercom.
“That’s my first interview,” I said to a laughing Xander. “Say a prayer for me, and I’ll call someone tonight.”
“You better, or I’m sending you a hooker. And not a top-shelf one.”