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Things are unfair.
Nothing is just.
And I had to accept my fate. The billionaires were done with me. More than done, they’d already found someone else to take my place. At the very least, they were interviewing dozens of applicants, thus the dirty look the blonde shot my way.
She thought I was competition.
Oh god.
The realization hurt so bad that I keeled over, face in my hands.
Because I wasn’t competition.
I was leftover trash, one and done, thrown out with the garbage.
The knowledge seared my heart, tearing me apart from the inside out.
But no. They’d hear if I cried outside the door. So stumbling to the elevator bank, I jammed the button with a desperate finger, willing the lift to carry me away.
Get me out of here, the voice in my head whispered. Please now, before they discover my humiliation.
Because I was yesterday’s news … and the dream was over.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tom
I knew we shouldn’t have done the interview with the new girl. There was no need. Joanie had been gone only a couple hours. Hell, maybe she’d stepped out to grab a bagel, who knew?
But Helena had already booked the interview, and it was too late to cancel.
“Naw,” I grunted into the phone. “No need to send a new girl over.”
But the woman had been insistent.
“I think you’ll like Crystal,” she pushed. “She’s just your type.”
And what
could we do? The texts we sent to Crystal’s number telling her not to come went unanswered. Likely, her cell was dead or lost. A lot of these girls are so flighty they have no idea where their phone is most times.
So when the knock came on the door, I shot a warning glare at my brothers.
“Keep it real,” I said sotto voce. “We’ll get her out of here in fifteen.”
And the woman who showed up was okay. Helena was right in some respects. We liked her body for sure. Massive Double D tits swung and beckoned. Wide hips curved sassily, begging to be touched.
But the blonde was nothing compared to Joanie. There wasn’t an ounce of sweetness in those blue eyes. Instead, they were canny like a fox, sizing me up in a flash.
“Oh hi,” she cooed. “I’m here for the job with Elite Air.”
And without waiting to be invited, Crystal waltzed inside wearing pink velour sweats that were about two sizes too small, with the word “Hot” emblazoned in rhinestones on the back. Ugly, if you asked me. I much preferred Joanie’s modest yet simple way of dressing. This girl was brassy and flashy by comparison, her hair a too-bleached blonde, ironed straight to look like Paris Hilton.
But fine. Let’s just get this over with. And perching herself sassily on the couch, the blonde introduced herself to my brothers.
“I’m Crystal,” she purred. “But you can call me Crys if you want. Whatever you like boys,” she cooed flirtatiously, tossing a fall of that straw-like hair over her shoulder. “Any time you want,” the girl added lasciviously.
Gross. We like our females to know their place, and clearly Crys didn’t know hers at all. She was so cocksure and confident, used to having men kneel in her presence.
