Chapter 2 – The Woman in You.
“And, err, then I was the lead pen salesman, sir.” The kid I’ve been interviewing for the Head of Sales position is sweating buckets on the other side of my desk, and I’m trying desperately not to laugh at him. Poor guy, five-foot-four pimply geek who has more hair on his arms alone than Chewbacca has all over his body, but after thirty minutes of his stuttering and constant shit babbling, I’m welland trulydone with this conversation.
“Thank you for your time today, Mr. Walker, I’ve heard enough, you can see yourself out.”
Thekid jumps andscramblesout of his chair, giving me a quick nod. “Tha-thankyou, Mr. Shaw.” He is out the door in seconds.
I don’t feel guilt for the tears pooling in his eyes, because my harsh toneis warranted. You see, I co-own a multimillion-dollar tech company, Shaw Tech, so I don’t have time to waste on people who cannot deliver meexactlywhat I need. I have a way I like things done, routines to be adhered to. There’s a place for everything. You need to fit in, and the profusely sweating baby gorilla just sitting at my desk would not.
“Mr. Shaw, your 2:00 p.m. appointment is here and waiting in the lounge,” my secretary, Sasha, chimes throughmy intercom.
“Send him in,” I command.
My office door swings open and smashes against the mahogany unit, knocking off a photograph, and in swaggers my co-partner and cousin, Colton Shaw.
“Why must I book a fucking appointment to see you again, it’s getting on my fucking last nerves, Logan.I own half this with you! I don’t have enough patience left to carry on like this much longer,” he shouts at me.
We have this argument every damn day.
“You know why, Colt, don’t start.Justspit out what you need to say, then get the fuck out,” I reply,justas pissed off as he is. Can’the see he’s eating into my time? Like I said, routines need to be adhered to, becausethis shit he’s pulling will have abutterflyeffect for the rest of the day.
Did he just growl?I look up from my laptop to him staring daggers at me, and smirk in response to his anger.
I’m the only person he will ever let speak to him in that way. We were raised brothers. In line to inherit and take over the family business our fathers built together.
Some might say we were raised with a silver spoon in our mouths, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. We may have lived in the most expensive houses in New York and went to the top elite private schools, but that doesn’t mean we had money at our disposal. Nope, our fathers raised us to work for it. If we wanted cordial things:laptops, phones, clothes, you name it, we had to work for it.
“Fucking asshole,” Colton mumbles as he waltzes around my desk and looks out the large window in my office. I know his game—he’s not here to talk business.
“We’regoing out tonight, and before the woman in you comes out, it’s not up for discussion, you need to get fucking laid, badly. You’resnapping at everyone, and we are losing staff in every department.”
That gets my blood boiling. “In case you have fucking forgotten, we have a huge presentation we need to prep for, and for the record, I have fucked.”
A sly smile breaks out on his face. “Yeah?When, pretty boy?” Colton laughs out.
I stand up and turn so I’m facing him, thinking about my response.
Truth is, I haven’t. Fuck, I cannot remember the last time I did. A few months ago, wait, probably longer. Shit, I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with work. Maybe it would help.But not tonight.
“Exactly,” Colton replies.“Listen I know you’re still hurting from—”
“Don’t fucking say her name!” I don’t need to have that conversation today.
He raises an eyebrow at me and walks out of my office, slamming the door behind him.
Cocksucker.