Page 1 of Catfish

? Back in Black — AC/DC ?

“He’s unavailable, sir. Can I schedule you an appointment?”

I blink once at the young receptionist who looks haggard as hell. Curled blonde hair, puffy bags under mocha brown eyes, they stare at me expectedly over the high-topped desk to give her an answer to her question—it’s no.

“Where’s Rebecca?” I grumble, adjusting the cuff links on my suit. She smiles at me; genuine, real, naive.

Rebecca used to wear the same “every day is beautiful” look until she learned exactly how this world worked.

How Holden Montgomery worked.

You either let him fuck you, or you get fired. That’s if he deems you worthy enough to pop a Viagra and wait for the aftermath.

Poor Rebecca, well, now she looks like a homeless person coming into the office. Her clothes are wrinkled from lack of sleep, misery dawns her pretty face, and she appears like she’s on her last straw before she loses her shit.

The outcome of living and dealing with this shit all day.

“It’s her day off,” the blonde receptionist beams with a smile. “It’s her sister’s birthday and she’s in—”

“And you must be new.” A line appears between her brows due to my not giving a fuck but then quickly softens.

That’s the difference between me and Montgomery—he gives a shit because he wants to bang you. I give a shit because I want you to give me my answers and stop talking.

“I am,” she replies. “It’s my second week.”

I roll my shoulders, stepping towards the generic counter to let my blue eyes shamelessly land on her skin-tight dress that looks like she got on clearance.

The plum purple cotton clings to her decent size tits and hips, outlining her crossed legs that are now nervously bouncing under the desk. A stray piece of string from her hem is coming from the seams, further alluding to how much she’s penny-pinching on Holden’s dime.

“I’m going to cut you some slack, Miss...”

“Mila…just Mila, please.”

“Mila.” I let her name roll off my lips, using my deep octave to brush along her skin. “I usually don’t schedule appointments with the mayor. Rebecca and I have...an understanding of my itinerary and—”

“I apologize, Mr—I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Mila,” I repeat, keeping my chest off the inexpensive laminate of the desk. “If you don’t know who I am, you definitely don’t belong at the front desk of the mayor’s office.”

She stares at me like a deer in headlights. A pretty little fawn that I’m going to run over if she doesn’t get the fuck out of my way.

“Well, I…” More leg bouncing.

“Mila, focus,” I cut in with a ridge to my tone. “You seem like a good girl, probably come from a nice family. Have a dream of becoming something more than a receptionist to a man who doesn’t acknowledge you when he enters and leaves his office because your perfume is too heavy and you look like you’re still in middle school. I’ll give you two options—kinda like This or That. You only get to pick one.”

“But Mr. Montgomery said he doesn’t want to be disturbed, and I can’t have the elevator unlocked until he—”

“Two options.” I hold up my index and middle finger. “I’m going to go up to his office, and you’re going to unlock it. Or I’m going to send you back home to your parents because you won’t work another day in this town or state after the shit I’m capable of. Understand?”

More widened eyes.

Her body starts to tremble slightly.

And I’m losing my fucking patience.

“Understand?” I repeat. With a shaky nod, she reaches over her desk while I turn on my heel, already knowing where to go.

Like I told the newbie receptionist, I’ve been here too many damn times. Each one with a promise from Holden to stand by his side of the agreement. That the next time I see him, I’ll get what’s owed back to me. That his banker wasn’t in the office and how he hates to wait because, apparently, it’s a concept to go inside himself and speak with a bank teller.

---