Seducing the Billionaire Nerd

For two months, Regina had ignored the late nights, the vague texts, the scent of an unfamiliar vanilla that hugged his clothes. She’d been too tired, too worn out from working three jobs, to confront him and to wage a proper war. But this? This public display of forbidden affection with another woman was an insult served as her dinner on a silver plate! And heaven knows she was one of its craziest creations to simply ignore! The evening had dragged itself in that day…Regina Vargas–Reggie to the people who mattered, which was most people she met, jammed her earbuds in deeper, as she walked through the city’s evening rush hour. Her playlist was a hyped hip hop sound, a perfect soundtrack to accompany her walk through Time’s square. The interview had been good, so her thoughts raced back: the anxious wait by everyone in the enlarged reception while she blasted her chewing gums unbothered, her quick bathroom run to the restroom to f*ck herself with her vibrator right before going in for her interview session, a severe-looking woman in a beige gown, ready to ask her questions she had repeated a thousand times that day, and a man besides her in a sleek suit ready to dish out the more challenging questions. She’d put on her A-game, of course. Turned on her charm, unleashed her never failing confidence, sold a ‘rehearsed’ vision of the diligent, hardworking and detailed Personal Assistant, herself and her best friend had stayed up all night perfecting. She’d left the elegant and prestigious tower of U-renus feeling a rush of excitement and wild hope. She was certain she was not as qualified as the other applicants, but regardless, she wasn’t one to believe in the negative, ever! Her best bet would always be to believe in the positive until proven otherwise. Besides, her answer to the most anticipated question, “Why should we hire you?” was replied by her unapologetic statement, “You should do so because I am the missing piece in your company’s puzzle. Without me, U-renus might just remain incomplete.” This job was the golden ticket to the life she needed. The salary alone would solve everything: her mother’s medication, Max’s college fund, the relentless rent drain of their apartment in Manhattan. She mentally composed a dramatic retelling for her best friend Laila when the universe decided to add a hell of a plot twist to her day. Across 5th Avenue, walking hand-in-hand with a woman whose laugh matched the dull color of her handbag, was Curtis. Her Curtis. Or so she’d naively believed for the past five months. She watched through the transparent glass of the restaurant as they walked in and got seated, comfortably chatting and munching away while stealing occasional little kisses at each other. It was the same restaurant she had asked him to take her to on her birthday two days prior, but Curtis had declined, taking her instead to average fast food with the excuse of not having enough money to make that happen. An obvious lie that she’d believed. The blasting music in her ears suddenly felt like a chant for war. The rage in her bubbling up in hot simmers. Her feet moved before her brain could even register what she was about to do. She didn’t follow them in. Instead, her eyes found his forever pride and joy–the handed down daddy’s gift of a cherry-red sports car he flaunted every chance he got, parked stylishly in the parking lot. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face, one that didn’t reach her brown eyes. She may have been played, but she was not a powerless pushover. A few seconds, after a deep search through her tote bag, she found it…her pocket knife eager to unleash the intended havoc. Twenty minutes later, all four tires hissed their defeat of being completely slashed, the driver’s side window was a spiderweb of cracks, and etched into the glossy red paint of the car in deep deliberate scratches, were two words: ‘PATHETIC CHEAT.’ Satisfaction filled her chest. It was the perfect response she could give. And it was all done by her amidst the curious eyes of strangers she gave no s**t about. She tossed the knife back in and melted back into the walking crowd, her heart pounding not with fear, but with a chaotic kind of joy. --- “He was feeding her linguine, Laila! The bastard knows I hate seafood!” Reggie ranted, with a half-eaten slice of pizza going into her mouth. Her apartment-warm, and cluttered with fashion-inspired wall art, her latest thrift store picks (the aftermath of the interview day preparations), white papers of sketched outfit designs littered around, and the comforting smell of cigarettes from Laila’s puff which filled the air. “So, I thought, why don’t I leave him a lovely message?” she dragged on, Laila sat up curiously, her glass of cheap wine in her other hand swaying to her sudden move, “Reggie, tell me you didn’t.” “I absolutely did… but let me start from the beginning, because that i***t does not deserve to be the major highlight.” Reggie launched into a dramatic tale, her voice rising and falling when needed. She acted out the interview–the strange questions, her own dazzling answers, and then gave more details about her proud vandalism moment, an hour ago. Laila groaned. “Oh, my f*cking God Reg! Your temper is going to land you in a web of trouble one day. What if you get this job? They most definitely would do a background check!” “For a PA job?” “Yes, a PA job at U-renus, not just any other Company but U-renus Reg!” “Oh please, chill okay... Curtis won’t call the cops. I doubt he would even know i was there,” Reggie argued. A heavy knock at the door, firm and almost criminal, interrupted their conversation. Reggie shared a wide-eyed look with Laila before getting to the door, wondering with an expression that asked who the hell that was. She moved to the door with curiosity and opened it to see two uniformed police officers and besides them stood an angry-looking Curtis. “Oh, s**t!” she mumbled to herself.