I plop down at my desk chair and turn on my computer while I sip the latte I picked up on the way in.
I sigh and stare at the screen as if I’m looking for answers that it obviously can’t give me because it’s a damn computer.
“Good morning!”
I glance up to see Katrina’s bright and bubbly face staring at me as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
Of course, to her everything is normal because I keep my romantic life private and she has no reason to suspect I’m sinking into a dark abyss of sadness.
I know I’m being melodramatic right now, but I have the right to be fucking pissed, okay?
“Hi, Katrina.” I give her a polite smile and prop my elbows up on top of the desk expectantly. “What do you have for me today?”
“Well…” she begins but I interrupt her.
“Let’s’ just start with this morning,” I joke. I can’t handle the rundown for an entire day until all the coffee in my cup is running through my veins.
“Okay.” She nods enthusiastically and bounces on her heel. “You have a meeting with potential investors in thirty minutes,” she begins, looking at her iPod.
Yes, that’s right?we’re high tech around here. Katrina has a smart device instead of a note pad and a pen.
“I’ll get ready for that.” I nod and take a deep breath. Oh yeah, by the way, I’ll be nowhere fucking ready for that.
“You have a lunch date with one of the clients who does interviews for the talent,” Katrina mentions.
“Alright.” I rub my temples. “I think that’s enough for right now.” I look up at her and smile.
Katrina types something into the iPad then moves her head up again. “Do you need anything else from me right now?”
“I don’t think so.” I shrug and force a smile.
Katrina lets herself out.
“Oh, Katrina?” I call before she’s completely out of sight.
“Yes?” She turns around.
“Will you please close my office door behind you?”
“Sure thing,” she says and then leaves me in privacy to wallow in my own despair.
I take a glance around the room. I have a sad little fern plant in the corner by the window. It’s apparent that it hasn’t been watered in a long time.
Its leaves are droopy and dry, much like my spirit.
I’m back to my usual, boring self and her monotonous routine after all. So much for living on the edge. Look where it fucking got me.
Meanwhile my father is probably sitting in his mansion-slash-palace. I picture him sitting in his study with a brandy in his hand and the morning paper.
Yes, a brandy this early.
My brother Harry is probably playing golf in some rich county club
, not even thinking about work, while I sit here and do all the hard shit, keeping this company afloat.
Nobody fucking cares, so why should I?
I regret taking the risk with Owen. It only backfired in my face. You know what they say, hindsight is twenty/twenty, right?