Chapter 3 The text

“What’s the perfect contact name for Weston?” I murmured after Pauline bolted the door behind her.

I rifled through my bag for my phone and picked out my phone, then stared at the card on my office desk.

Westin? He changed the last letter of my name, so I could swap the letters in his. My jaw tensed. Nope, Westin was too nice for someone as insufferable as him.

I faltered for a bit before typing the number into my phone and finally opting for COCKY BOSS.

Fortunately, the interview was in twenty minutes. So I had spare time to vent about how miserable my first day has been so far. But Lyra could be busy with work and the last thing I’d do was disturb her.

Sighing, I almost threw my phone back into my bag but paused. We had a group chat. Lyra, her friend whom I barely knew and I, so I could leave a text. My face brightened and I clicked on the chat name COOL BABES then commenced typing.

Lyra, don’t be mad I ruined your shirt. I promise to replace it once I get paid. And…my new boss forced me to attend an interview wearing his shirt. Like dude is so fucking annoying!

My jaw tightened. No one responded, so I shot another text.

He walked up to me shirtless thinking I’ll be flustered. He thinks I’m like other girls. Someone needs to tell him I’m worse, I’d ruin him.

I wouldn’t call myself a slut, but I was one when needed. I resumed typing.

I’d fucking tie him up. Torture and tease him so much that he’ll beg and end up hating me as much as I hate him. I’d ride his pretty face till he gasps and passes away. And lastly, I’d attend his funeral in his favorite shirt.

God, why was I even thinking of riding him? And why was the picture of his chest stuck in my head despite wanting him dead.

I’d spent barely an hour here and all I’d done was break the one rule I set for myself.

My skin flushed and I switched off my phone. Jenna, you're not a slut. I left my office, and proceeded to find the venue for the so-called interview.

The building was too big. If I kept prowling, I’d get lost.

A plump blonde in a brown suit ran into me. I sneezed and shifted as her Chanel No 5 perfume choked me. Then, I introduced myself as the new assistant and asked for directions.

“I’m heading there now, sweetie,” she said loudly. Oh thank goodness.

“I had no idea an interview was held for that position.” She took my hand and I pattered behind her as she hauled me down the corridor.

I tried speaking but she beat me to it. “You’d love Wes. He’s really sweet to his employees. I don’t blame him for firing four assistants in the space of two months. The chicks won’t stop throwing themselves at him.”

She laughed. I stole that opportunity to speak. “Maybe if he behaved, no one would throw themselves at him.”

“Oh sweetie, he’s only twenty-seven. Let the young man have fun.” We curved into another route and she gestured her hand in the air. “I used to be really good friends with his mom.”

Oh. No wonder she knew so much. She went off track with her endless chatter while I stared around the surroundings, partially listening to her and wondering if Weston was really as sweet as this lady claimed.

After what felt like forever, we got to the interview room. My heart did a little flip when I saw Weston. He was now clothed in a plain black shirt and black pants with a Rolex wristwatch.

Seated beside him on the stage was a lady in her mid-sixties, holding a mic while a banner hung above them saying GET TO KNOW WESTON.

The plump blonde joined the cinematographers and I trotted down to the corner with less people, pressed my back against the wall and picked the edge of my shirt.

“So we’re going to take that again. Okay?” The woman beside Weston shifted on her chair. Weston lifted a brow when he saw me before turning back to the camera and nodding.

“What do you wish people understood about your job?”

“It’s tough. With the title...” He leaned back against the chair. “It’s hard to know who got your back.”

The lady flipped a paper. “So are you saying—”

Someone climbed the stage and whispered something to her. She nodded, waving the man off.

“Sorry.” She chuckled, staring at the camera. “So Mr. Weston, does that mean you’d step down from your position as the CEO since it’s tough?”

“I never said so.” Weston lifted both hands to the air, laughing. Just like his entire physical features, his teeth were perfect and without a single stain.

My mouth twitched and I looked away, pressing my lips together. Why did he have to look this good, yet be a Casanova?

“If you were to change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”

He pretended to think it through before shrugging. “Absolutely nothing. I’m a catch.”

Everyone laughed while I rolled my eyes. Proud peacock.

“What does a typical day look like for you?” The interviewer rubbed her cheek.

“Mornings are for work, same as afternoon.” He hesitated then turned towards me with a grin. “I have a new assistant now, I’m sure the workload would reduce.”

I froze when all eyes turned towards me, including the camera. God, I hated this man.

He continued, “Evenings are for fun. Party, drink and most importantly eat. Anything edible.”

Ew. My nose scrunched together and I frowned deeply. I hated that I understood what he meant.

The interviewer threw more questions at him about work and managing the industry. My mind drifted back to his dressing room, until the next question snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Mr. Weston, you’re Brooklyn’s headline now. The news of your father giving you just three months to find a woman and settle down, or he’ll hand the industry over to an outsider. How true is that?”

I straightened, my eyes moved to his face and remained there.

He didn’t answer immediately. He glanced down at his phone on his lap, scrolled up and a smirk appeared on his face before he looked straight at me.

“Whoa. Straight for the jugular,” he mumbled. “My father likes drama, haven’t you thought about why he has the biggest entertainment industry?”

“Does that—”

“Actually, I’m seeing someone,” he cut in, his eyes still locked with mine. My brows drew together, unable to hide my surprise. Why did he stare at me while saying it? Was he really dating?

“Any other question?”

No response.

Rising from the chair, he inserted his phone into his pocket and smiled before walking down the stage. “Didn’t think so.”

Murmurs spread across the room once he exited the door. Okay, he didn’t deny the news which meant it wasn’t false. But I was taken aback how he handled it casually.

I breathed in and started walking out. Half way through the walk, my phone buzzed. I almost forgot I texted the girls. I lifted my phone to my face and paused, realizing my mistake.

My heart stopped functioning. I had sent my texts to COCKY BOSS instead of COOL BABES.

And his reply read: Interesting read, Jenny. Didn’t peg you for a planner. How about you bring whatever is left of your dignity and come say it to my face.