Page 85 of Rhet

“I never said I’m begging your ugly mug to work for me. However, if you continue working on the streets I own, me or some other family will come for you. Your choice.”

I know he’s feeling some type away.

“Next time you come see me, get your ass a tailor and dress the part.” I wipe my mouth and stand to leave.

“You know where to find me. Dad owns the place you don’t have to worry about the bill,” With that I turn and leave. Now back to the person who has taken up residence in my mind rent free. Zeeta.

ZEETA

“I hate Rhet some days, Lord,” I say out loud to myself. Last night was a mess. He didn’t even zip up his pants properly before he told me I should arrange a fuck date with Miley somebody. I’m trying not to feel some sort away about it, but I’m only human.

Am I going to show him his actions affected me? I rather die than show him that. In fact, I should be thankful he did what he did because I still have tasks I need to accomplish in order to save my household.

It’s simple. I arranged his date. I even sent her a dozen red roses. I’m going to make sure he gets laid tonight. But I have a surprise for him.

I enter the office realizing he’s still off at his private meeting.

I close the door quickly, sprinting to his desk and I begin my search for this stupid file. Waterfront project? He isn’t going have that lying around on his desk now, is he?

To my surprise, there it is under three folders.

I take my phone out, open the file and begin to take pictures. With each click, I feel like I’m doing something so wrong.

Duh Zee, because you are. I take a deep pained breath, as guilt washes over me.

Once I’m finished. I walk over to my desk, power my laptop on and sit.

The door opens and Rhet walks in talking to someone on the phone. His face is red. Clearly, this conversation isn’t going according to his plan.

“No offense, Senator… no, wait, be offended, fuck you. I will get that bid and win.” He ends the call and walks to his desk.

Looking down he frowns. “Were you on my desk?”

My heart races, should I lie? Should tell him the truth? If he asks he knows something is off.

“Yes, I was. I was about to straighten your desk, but then I thought you like organized chaos.”

He looks up at me and squints. “You made my date?”

He’s irritable today? I wonder what has him in a fit?

“Yes, I did, and I sent her roses.”

He sits, opens his cigar box and takes out his cigar cutter and a cigar. “Did I say send her roses?”

“No, but I thought it was a nice touch.” I take up my pens and put them in my cup

“The only touching I want to do is fucking. Cancel the roses.”

I guess his meeting left him cranky.

“It’s way too late now.” I sit up. “I’m helping you cut down on being an asshole.”

He puffs at his cigar, and exhales. “Who told you I need help? Being an asshole is my hobby. There’s an unprecedented freedom to it.”

I roll my eyes.

“Seriously it’s having the freedom of not caring if I’m wrong or right. It’s just my way.”

---