Addicted (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance)(3)

Pierre’s breathing was erratic. “What will it take?” he rasps. “What will it take for Christine to show up?” The sounds of tears in his voice tugged at my heart strings. “My reputation is riding on this.”

I took a deep breath, feeling bad for the man. But what could I do for him?

“Please, Victoria,” he begged me. “Get her to speak with me.”

It wasn't lost on me that here was a powerful man himself, begging me to get my boss to listen to him.

And that’s why I’m working for her. Because in the eyes of the fashion world, Christine Finnerman is God.

I sat there listening to Pierre’s pathetic begging, not sure what to do. Finally, I could take no more. “Hold on,” I told him. I got up from my desk and took the phone with me.

I made it to Christine’s office doorway when the telephone line went taut. I couldn't move any further. Normally I'd have just put him on hold. I don't know what had come over me.

What am I doing?

I placed the phone against my hip to block out sound.

“Christine?” I dared.

She looked up at me and my heart jumped in my chest. “What is it, Victoria? Have you told Pierre that I'm not coming?”

“Uh,” I mumbled. Then I took a deep breath and gathered my courage. “I’m sorry, Christine, but he's adamant that he speaks with you—”

“Since when does telling a client that I will not be attending mean that you must listen to his pathetic whining and feel honor-bound to go against my orders, hmm?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks as I fumbled for an answer.

“But,” Christine continued, “Since you’re fairly new here and quite easy to influence, I’ll forgive you—just this once.” She sat back in her seat and appraised me with her frost-blue eyes. “Now tell me, what does Mr. Pierre want?”

I pushed down the anger that rose in my throat at her insult. “He wants to know what it will take for you to attend.”

Christine stared at me for a long moment. “There is a designer by the name of Amanda Kersey. Heard of her? Terrible designer with clothing that looks like a blind woman designed it and models that look like they’re meth addicts straight off the streets. Anyway, a trusted advisor told me she used choice words in speaking about me . . .”

Christine’s words trailed off, but her meaning was clear. She gave me a direct look to drive her point home, and I shook involuntarily at what she wanted me to do. Much like me, Amanda Kersey is young and starry-eyed. She's a popular upcoming designer, who I’m sure has a lot riding on this.

And with one word, Christine destroys her.

My immediate urge was to hang up the phone, tell Christine to kiss my ass, and then walk out of her office for good. But as a newly-graduated twenty-two-year-old who was estranged from both parents and alone in a big city with a lease to pay, I couldn't afford to piss off such a powerful woman.

“Is there a problem?” Christine asked me.

Numbly, I shook my head and raised the phone to my lips.

“Pierre?” I ask weakly.

He was still there after all this time.

“Yes?”

Despite the grave situation, I almost laughed at the desperation in his voice.

“There is a fashion designer by the name of Amanda Kersey—”

“She’s done,” Pierre cut in. “I'll be calling her immediately to tell her that something came up and someone else will be taking her place.”

The line went dead and I stood there, feeling numb all over.

“Victoria?” Christine said to me. I looked over at her, noting the wicked curl to her lips. She’d won her little power play and now could privately gloat. “Stop standing there like an imbecile and get to work.”

She’s really testing me.

Holding back an acidic reply, I turned away and numbly walked back to my desk, slamming the phone down. I grasped my head in my palms and blew out a stressful breath. After a moment, I straightened up and began going through Christine’s schedule, marking the calendar for Pierre’s show.

As much as I wanted to quit my job, I knew if I stuck it out for a little while longer, big things would happen for me. At least that’s what I hoped.

“That door just can’t open quick enough,” I muttered to myself.





Chapter 2





Tyler





“You’ve got to get your shit together, man,” Jeff growled at me.

Sitting back in my chair, I winced as a sharp pain sliced through my brain. As usual, I’d stayed up late after a night of drinking and wild sex. It would’ve been worth it, but the girl I’d gone home with last night, a blonde with big tits and a nice round ass, had been too eager to suck my dick.