BILLIONAIRE'S SPOILED MRS

Chapter 9: Huge Mistake

The sun was setting over the New York skyline as Maeve finally slumped into the driver’s seat of her car. Her feet were screaming, and her brain felt heavy from a day of numbers and cold stares. Just as she was about to pull out of the Blackwood parking lot, her phone buzzed.

"Tell me you're sitting down," Penial’s voice sounded triumphant.

"If I wasn't already sitting, I’d be on the floor, Pen. I’m exhausted," Maeve groaned.

"Well, get ready to celebrate. I found the one! It’s in a perfect location, it's fully furnished with velvet sofas and a kitchen that looks like a dream, and—get this—I already had your staff move your things. Everything is arranged. Your clothes are in the walk-in closet, your skincare is in the marble bathroom, and the champagne is on ice."

Maeve squealed so loudly a passerby jumped. "Penial! You are a literal goddess! I was dreading having to look at houses with this headache. You’ve saved my life."

"I know, I know. I’m the best. Now, get your ass over here. I’m sending you the address."

Twenty minutes later, Maeve stepped into her new home. It was breathtaking. Large windows showed off the city lights, and the scent of expensive vanilla candles filled the air. She kicked off her black heels and hugged Penial, who was already waiting on the sofa with two glasses of bubbles.

They spent the next few hours in total bliss. They ordered expensive takeout and sat on the floor, gisting about every single detail of Maeve’s day. Maeve didn't miss a thing—she told Penial about the "daddy" slip-up, the architect Elena who she wanted to throw out a window, and the half-million-dollar victory in the boardroom.

"And then he told me to be professional!" Maeve laughed, leaning her head back. "As if he didn't just have a blonde hanging off his desk an hour before."

"He's obsessed with you, he just doesn't know it yet," Penial joked, clinking her glass against Maeve’s.

But the peaceful night didn't last. Around 11:00 PM, Maeve’s laptop—which was sitting on the coffee table—chimed. Then it chimed again. And again.

Maeve frowned and opened it. Her inbox was flooded. Cassian had sent over six different emails with "Urgent" in the subject line. They were full of extra data to review and market research for the hotel’s spa.

Review these by 8:00 AM. I noticed you were leaving at 5:00 PM sharp. Work doesn't end just because you want to go play, his latest email read.

The "old Maeve" rose up inside her like a volcano. The arrogance she had been fighting all day finally broke through her self-control. She was tired, she was tipsy, and she was absolutely done with Cassian Blackwood’s attitude.

"Is he serious?" Maeve hissed. "It's nearly midnight!"

"Don't do it, Maeve," Penial warned, seeing the look in her friend's eyes. "Just ignore it until morning."

But Maeve wasn't listening. She grabbed her phone, opened the camera, and sat up. She made the angriest face she could manage—her brow furrowed and her lips curled in a snarl. Then, she raised her hand and put her middle finger directly in the air.

Click.

Before she could think twice, she attached the photo to a reply and hit Send.

The room was silent for three seconds. Then, reality hit Maeve like a bucket of ice water. Her eyes widened, and she dropped her phone on the rug.

"Oh my God," Maeve whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I just sent that to him."

Penial leaned over, saw the sent message, and burst into a fit of unstoppable laughter. "Maeve! You did not! You actually flipped off New York’s most dangerous CEO!"

Maeve buried her face in her hands, hitting her head lightly against the sofa cushion. "I’m so stupid! Why did I do that? My arrogant self just won, Penial. I’m dead. He’s going to fire me before I even get to my desk tomorrow. My dad is going to kill me!"

"At least it was a good photo," Penial choked out between laughs. "Your skin looks great in that lighting."

"This isn't funny!" Maeve wailed, looking at her phone as if it were a ticking bomb. "I have to delete it! Can I delete it?"

She checked, but it was too late. The email was marked as Read.

Maeve slumped onto the floor, staring at the ceiling. She had spent all day proving she was a professional, and in one second of spoiled anger, she had thrown it all away.

"Well," Maeve said, her voice sounding hollow. "I guess I should enjoy this apartment while I can. Tomorrow morning, I’m officially unemployed."