I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Carmine Moretti, and I am the CEO of Marked Inc., a public relations firm with a vested interest in providing our clientele with the best representation possible. This entails having a host of lawyers, media consultants, and writers on our team.
Your vast work as a freelance writer has come to my attention, and I believe your well-rounded writing abilities would be a true asset to our company.
I am willing to offer you a full-time position, including benefits and paid time off, if you so choose to join Marked Inc. I trust this is an opportunity you will not want to miss out on. I look forward to hearing back from you.
Yours,
Carmine Moretti
I read the letter again, just to make sure I didn’t skip over anything. In the top left corner of the letter there is a staple, and beneath it is a matte-textured business card attached to the back of the paper. I carefully tear the card from behind, releasing it from the staple to get a better look at it.
With the business card in hand, I head back upstairs to grab my cell phone so I can find out more about what this Carmine Moretti has to offer.
As I make my way up the stairs and down the hallway to my bedroom, I stop and stare at the threshold to my room. I was already planning on moving to the city, ironically, within the next few weeks, but this feels like a sign. Call it fate or coincidence or whatever, but this feels like the confirmation I needed. The signal from the universe that leaving this place is what I need to move on with my life, to finally feel like I’m living again for me and not for memories that haunt me.
I grab my phone, and just as I am about to start dialing the number, I take a deep breath in to calm the unexpected excitement beginning to stir inside of me.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter4
Carmine
I swirl the pen in my hand, watching the mouth of my financial advisor, Felipe, move without focusing on his number jargon. Usually, I would be asking questions, crunching numbers, getting involved, but not today. Instead, I am distracted, tense, and feeling increasingly thrown off my game. Though, I can’t let any of that show.
Appearances are everything in my line of work, and it is imperative that I do not allow my emotions to ever come to the surface. It’s a disguise I have been forced to wear.
As Felipe blabbers on about things I should care about, I pretend to take notes by periodically looking up at him while I sketch out the next part of my back piece I want to get done.
I’m a horrible artist but I have the basic concept down of what I want. I have an appointment next month with the city’s most sought-after tattoo artist. People usually wait months for an appointment, but when you’re as known in the kind of social circles that I am, all it takes is a quick phone call and your requests become reality. Better yet, I got him to agree to make a house call. That way, wherever I may be, by the time the appointment rolls around, I can still get tatted.
Tattoos have become one of the many addictions I have acquired over the years. I have debated dabbling in the shit I push on the streets, but I know myself. The depressive hole I have sunken into would collapse if I opened that Pandora’s Box. So, instead, it’s tattoos and booze—whiskey, to be exact—that attempt to fill the endless void in my life.
Felipe continues to ramble about the numbers from this financial quarter as I lean back in my chair, spinning it halfway, so I have the reception area in my view. I side-eye my receptionist, Lizzie, sitting there, flirting with the UPS guy.
Ah, Lizzie.Her father, Enzo, is a longtime friend of my father’s, not to mention the previous co-owner of Marked Inc. That is, until I bought him and Father out of their stake in the company. My father feels a sense of responsibility to Enzo and his family because of his loyalty to the Moretti family.
Providing Lizzie with a job as my receptionist is part of that responsibility. The extra work she has put in over the years taking care of my more personal needs is a blurred line that we crossed a long time ago. I should feel more guilt about the professional boundaries we have ignored but I don’t. Lizzie has been more than willing, just as I have been. We are just two people fulfilling our physical needs; it doesn’t need to be anything more than that.
My eyes focus back on Felipe, who is now gathering the stack of papers back into the folder he came into my office with. Thank fucking God, he is wrapping up this snooze fest.
“Alright, Mr. Moretti, I will finalize those quarter three reports and have them submitted to you for final review by the end of the week,” Felipe says as he outstretches his hand to mine, oblivious to my lack of interest I have had for our conversation.
“Thank you, Felipe. That is all for today.” I shake his hand, while still side-eyeing the reception desk.
I have waited so fucking long for this moment, to be able to approach our new hire, that the anticipation is beginning to feel torturous. The proposal should have arrived already. I made sure it was hand-delivered, to ensure its safe and timely arrival. The phone should be ringing at any fucking moment now.
Felipe makes his way out of my office when I spot Lizzie’s tousled, auburn hair as she swoops in, grabbing the door behind him. She is a vision to be sure, with her enticing blue eyes and manufactured curves, but she is not who my heart or my cock truly desires. She is simply a placeholder. Just a way to pass the time until I claim the one who is rightfully mine.
Both Lizzie and Felipe, as well as the paperwork that lines my desk, have been utter distractions from the task I have at hand. Today marks the first day where my plan to take over all aspects of the family business will be set in motion.
When my father finds out who I have in mind to stand by my side when I do so, he will no doubt burst out in anger, making it even more sinfully sweet.
Lizzie takes her time walking over to where I stand at my desk. Her hips sway with each step of her heels, accentuating her curves in the form-fitting, emerald dress she has practically painted on her body. I sit back down in my desk chair, waiting for her to finish making her exaggerated entrance toward me.
She props her plump ass on the edge of my desk, as she flirtatiously reaches for the knot of my tie. Her eyes glisten as she tries to lure me closer to her. Inappropriate, for sure, but Marked Inc., has never been a straight-edge company. We march to the beat of our own drum here, setting a different standard for our own morality, or lack thereof.
I can already tell Lizzie is more interested in finishing what we started before Felipe barged into my office. This woman is designed to please. Too bad every time she pleases me, I only use her mouth or her sweet, wet slit as a vessel for my imagination. Wishing every touch, lick, and fuck were my queen-in-waiting and not Lizzie.
