Chapter 3
751 Words
Gina
After work, I finally made it back to my cozy little apartment—and to my little pug, Lilo. When I moved to Florida to start my life, I promised my father I’d stay safe.
He suggested getting a dog for companionship and protection. He wasn’t expecting a pug. He wanted a lab or a German Shepherd.
But I fell in love with this little wrinkly ball of energy. I adored her curly tail, the way she bounced around like a happy potato. The first night I brought her home, she snuggled up next to my neck and snored like a freight train.
“Hey, Lilo, mommy’s home!” I greeted her. She wagged her little butt so hard she nearly toppled over, barking happily.
After changing into something comfortable, I made a small dinner. My phone pinged—a text from my best friend, Kelly.
She’s the typical Florida girl: blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, perfect figure, tiny waist. Size six. Wicked sense of humor, but one of the biggest hearts I know. We met in college—she in HR, me in merchandising. She’d even helped me get my job at Preston Enterprise.
K: House of Blues Friday! Great band playing. We need to go.
G: Why do we need to go?
K: To have fun?
G: Who’s the guy?
K: No guy! I just need to have fun and forget life. Music and booze!
Ah. Kelly code: workplace drama is driving her insane.
G: Okay, I’m in.
K: You’re the best!
Lilo ran over and sat in front of me. “Looks like mommy’s going out tomorrow night, Lilo,” I told her.
She tilted her head, giving me a look that said, why?
Maybe she was right. I should find a boyfriend. It had been almost two years since Sean, my last one, left me—he didn’t like that I was overweight. Honestly, the relationship wasn’t healthy anyway. He criticized everything—my weight, how I dressed, even my cooking.
Why would I go back to that? Truth is, dating isn’t easy when you’re not a “beach babe.” Half Italian, half Persian, I’ve got curves—big breasts, a full figure bouncing between sizes 14 and 16. My long, thick black hair is probably my best feature.
After Sean, I decided to focus on myself. I lived by RuPaul’s advice: If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?
⸻
Zane
I walked back into the office building after visiting my father at his coffee shop. No one knew I actually owned it—it was my gift to him.
I own several businesses, but the coffee shop is under my father’s name so nobody could link it to me. I’ve always valued privacy. College taught me the hard way. My roommate, from a wealthy, famous family, had his life destroyed in a scandal. I swore that would never happen to me.
Being wealthy has its drawbacks, especially with women. Once they realize what I have, I become “sugar daddy” material. If I have a weakness, it’s women—and I tend to pick the wrong ones.
That’s another reason my employees don’t know the truth. I need workers who earn their positions, not try to sleep their way to the top.
I take the private elevator in the back, used only by me and a select few. Anyone seeing me there thinks I’m just another employee named Zander Prentas. Zane Preston is an alias I created—my father thinks I just Americanized my Greek name. I’m not ashamed of being Greek, but in business, mystery pays off.
At my floor, my secretary Sarah greets me.
“Hello, Mr. Preston. I have your schedule for next week, and there’s a contract on your desk needing authorization.”
“Thanks, Sarah. I need an employee file—first name Gina, last name something like Lamborghini. She’s a switchboard operator.”
“Gina Lombardi,” she replied.
“You know her?” I asked.
“A little. Kelly in HR is her friend—we did a girls’ night together. She’s also the one who let that personal call reach you today, the one you asked me to talk to Jill about.”
“I see. I still want to review the file, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, sir.”
Okay, Lombardi. You slipped up today. Let’s see what kind of employee you really are.
- Writer
