Page 4 of Seducing a Sagittarius
I was young and rich, but didn’t have what I desired most—a woman. I desired to have someone I could come home to, but every woman I’d dated seemed to never be the one for me. Even my parents tried to hook me up with their friends’ daughters’, but there was never a connection with them. Either they were too boring, did too much, or they couldn’t handle my bluntness or take a joke.
None of them matched with me, so we never went any further than the bedroom.
To my team, I was the corporate, mean, asshole, but that was the furthest from the truth. I just didn’t tolerate bullshit, and that was what most of them were on half the time, so they almost never got the nice side of me.
Stepping out of my office, I headed toward Liz’s desk.
“She’s waiting for you on the fifth floor.”
“Appreciate it. Not sure how long this meeting is going to last, but you can head home for the day.”
“Thank you, Mr. West.” I nodded and headed toward the elevator . . . anticipating seeing the thick ass beauty queen.
With her sexy, blind, clumsy ass.
I stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor, seeing Ms. Grant sitting in the lobby waiting. A warm feeling washed over me just seeing her face. I wanted to smile at how awkward and pretty she looked sitting there, trying to be poised, but I kept my face stoic.
“Ms. Grant. Follow me,” I said, heading toward the conference room. I could hear her heels clacking behind me, trying to keep up with my stride.
“I thought I was starting tomorr?—”
“If you have a notebook, I suggest you get it out, because what I’m about to say needs to be said quickly,” I told her, moving down the long hall. “First, call over to Weisman’s office and tell them I’m pushing the meeting to Friday at noon. Call Natalie atPremier Photosand tell her seven o’clock won’t work for tomorrow. I need those images before midnight tonight.
“Since you didn’t mention what I liked to eat for dinner, I’d like a surf and turf from Red Lobster—make it two with extra cocktail sauce by seven thirty-five—with two wild berry iced teas, and two lobster Alfredos. Call my pops and let him know that Amerie’s ceremony will be at Harper Park in Harperwoods, this Saturday at three, and that she and moms chose to wear white and teal. Am I going too fast for you?” I asked.
Her head shot up from her notepad. “No, sir. I’m just waiting on you.”
That drew a small smile from me. I pulled my work cell from my inside pocket and handed it over to her. “When you’re done making those calls, come inside. I’ll need you to take notes. Make it quick. I don’t want to start without you,” I told her, opening the door to the conference room and walking inside.
I saw my team waiting patiently while I headed to my seat at the head of the table.
“About time you graced us with your presence,” Emani jested.
“I’m here and on time. Give me some credit.”
“Hmm, I guess I could spare a little.” We laughed.
“Team, . . . I’ll need fifteen minutes before we can get down to the meeting. Until then, let me see what you all have as far as new designs and labels.” They all began to slide their sketches down to me.
“And why are we delaying?” one of my media reps, Jennifer, asked.
“My new assistant is handling a few things for me. I need her present to take notes.”
“New assistant? Uh-oh,” Marvin, one of the creative designers, spoke. “How long will this one be around for, Mr. Ave?”
“I’ll give it until the end of the week. Brian was the only one who could handle his mean ass,” Emani declared.
I frowned. “Handle? Ain’t nobody handling me, E. You know better than that.”
“You know what I mean, Avery. You have no filter sometimes, and you are what people call ‘nice-nasty.’ It’s why you ran through ten assistants within a month after Brian left.”
“Is it my fault that they ass can’t remember to put three sugars and a splash of oat milk in my damn coffee? I’m not that damn hard to please.”
“Obviously, you are, friend. I’m telling you right now to take it easy on this one, because pulling others away from their jobs to assist you isn’t the move.”
I waved her off. “Whatever. Phil, I love the whole T-shirt idea you have for this one,” I said, holding up the one he handed me. “Marcy, the sneaker idea is cool, but I would go for a classier vibe . . . Maybe a dress shoe would make it pop.” She nodded and scribbled in her notebook. “Furthermore—” The door opening stopped me from speaking, as the stacked stallion entered the room. Not only was I looking, but so were the menandEmani, and that shit irritated me.
“Glad you understood that time is of the essence,” I said. “Everyone, this is my new assistant, Layne Grant. Ms. Grant, meet my creative and media team: Alissa Colvin, Marvin Stanley, Phillip Brown, Jennifer Sloan, and Marcy Thompson. And this is my COO and good friend, Emani Kentfield.”
