07 — Meatball Meeting

I stared at my phone, my eyes fixed on the text message. How did he even get my number? I hadn't given it to him, and I certainly hadn't posted it on my socials. But then again, he was a billionaire. Getting someone's phone number was probably child's play for him.

I read the message again, feeling a small flutter in my chest. "Wear the outfit I sent you to my company tomorrow," it said. No hello, no explanation, just a straightforward command. I felt a surge of annoyance coursing through me, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity. Why had he sent me the outfit in the first place? And what did he plan to do tomorrow? My eyes dropped to the signature at the end of the message: "-T." Trevor. I knew it was him before I saw the signature.

I glanced at the outfit, still neatly wrapped in its packaging. I had to admit, I was tempted to try it on. But it seemed questionable. What was the billionaire's motive? Trevor didn't seem like the type to do something nice without expecting something in return.

Once I was done reading the message, I FaceTimed Hailey immediately. "Hey, girl! What's up?" she answered, her voice cheerful as always.

"I just got a weird text from Trevor," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"What did it say?" Hailey asked, her curiosity piqued.

"He told me to wear the outfit he sent me to his company tomorrow," I replied, my anxiety spilling over. I mean, this was the same man that didn't inform his secretary about me.

Hailey's expression shifted from curiosity to confusion. "What outfit? What are you talking about?"

I laughed, realizing I hadn't told her about the package. "Oh, okay. So an hour ago, Trevor sent his driver to bring me a package. It was a gift, I guess... I don't know; I'm just confused. The package contained a business outfit, designer shoes, and a bag."

Hailey's eyes widened in surprise. "Whoa, that's... quite a gift, Ally! What's going on with you two?" She yelled, almost calling my ears to glory.

I shrugged, still feeling bewildered. "I have no idea, but I'm not complaining," I said, laughing at the thought that he actually gifted me presents worth thousands of dollars. It was crazy, and I was a bit complaining.

Hailey grinned. "You should totally wear it and see what happens. It's not every day you get to dress up like a million bucks and meet a handsome billionaire. Get up, Cinderella, your prince charming awaits you." She giggled. Handsome? Yes. Charming? No!

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a tiny spark of excitement. "You think I should do it?"

Hailey nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. What's the worst thing that could possibly happen?"

'A lot,' I thought.

"Honestly, I don't know how I feel about it." I muttered.

"Whoa, that's interesting," Hailey said. "But what's worrying you? You're not thinking of backing out, are you?" Even if I wanted to, I didn't have a choice. I already felt like a freeloader.

"No, it's just... what if there's something attached to it?" I asked, voicing my concerns. "I mean, I didn't finish school, and I'm not exactly qualified for anything. What could he possibly want me to do at his company?"

I ended my conversation with Hailey, realizing I was running late for my shift at Sippin' Strippin'. I quickly got ready and headed out the door, my mind still muddled from the rude text message.

The night flew by in a blur of music, dancing, and flirting with customers. I didn't have time to think about Trevor's backhanded note or the outfit until my shift ended, and I stumbled out of the club, exhausted.

The next morning, I woke up feeling heightened. Frightened. Excited? Anyway, I decided to wear the outfit, hoping it would give me the confidence boost I needed. Looking at myself in the mirror, a wave of determination washed over me. and I knew I was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

I pulled into the parking lot of Reynolds Corp., feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. As I handed my keys to the valet, I noticed a few curious glances from the other employees who were milling around outside, grabbing a morning breath of fresh air.

I couldn't care less about what they thought; they could kiss my ass. I straightened my shoulders and made my way towards the entrance, trying to blend in. My outfit, courtesy of Trevor, was a stark contrast to my beat-up old car. The tailored red blazer and matching pants, complete with a pair of black Christian Louboutin red-bottom heels and a sleek black Hermès minibag, made me feel confident and poised. Like a million dollar bucks.

I truly liked myself when I looked in the mirror. I looked the fuck good! So I knew I would be stepping on necks at Trevor's company.

I walked into the pristine lobby, made my way to a sofa, and sat down, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. I noticed a woman watching me from the reception area, her eyes fixed on me with a puzzled expression. I realized she was trying to figure out if I was lost, and I couldn't blame her—I had been sitting for close to thirty minutes, tapping my foot loudly and wearing a clear expression of frustration on my face.

I had hesitated to go to the reception desk because I didn't see the familiar face that knew of my appointment from the day before.

"Excuse me, Miss. Are you lost or in a hurry?" The woman asked finally, approaching me with a polite smile.

She was a raven-haired beauty. Damn! She was gorgeous. God must have sprinkled beauty onto Trevor's company, good gracious! All his staff were good-looking.

I smiled and shook my head. "I'm here to see Mr. Reynolds. I'm supposed to meet him at his office, but I'm not sure where that is—actually, he didn't tell me, but it isn't my fault that he's a slow pussy, that dickless meatball."

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a slight laugh. "Dickless meatball?" she repeated, amusement dancing in her eyes.

I realized my mistake and felt a flush rise to my cheeks. "I meant Mr. Reynolds," I corrected, trying to compose myself.

The woman's expression changed from puzzlement to surprise. "Oh, I'm Rosalie, Mr. Reynolds' assistant. I wasn't expecting you to be... waiting."

"Nice to meet you, Rose. I'm Alessia."

Rosalie's eyes widened in surprise. "Alessia? Your name sounds familiar, but let me just check his schedule to be sure." She glanced at her phone and nodded. "Yes, you're expected. It must have been tiring waiting for half an hour. I apologize."

I laughed, feeling a bit more at ease. "It's okay, I'm just glad I met Mr. Reynolds' assistant by chance, and I'm glad it's you. And please call me Ally."

Rosalie smiled and nodded. "Yes, well, I suppose it's convenient. Shall we head up to Mr. Reynolds' office, Ally?"

As we walked towards the elevator, I couldn't help but notice the sleek, modern decor. We passed by the reception area, where a new face was behind the desk, a friendly-looking woman who looked up at me with a warm smile.

"Hi, I'm the new receptionist," she said, waving her hand at Rosalie. "I started today. The previous receptionist... let's just say she's no longer with the company."

'She talks too much,' I thought as I stared at the excited woman before me.

Rosalie leaned in and whispered, "Mr. Reynolds fired her. Apparently, she didn't inform him about a certain visitor who came to the office yesterday."

My body grew cold when I realized Rosalie was talking about me. Mr. Reynolds had fired the receptionist for not reporting my visit—but what did that mean for me?

Rosalie led me to the elevator, and we rode up to the top floor in silence. While in the elevator, I began talking, "You didn't say a thing when I called you Rose."

"I let it slide," Rosalie replied with a smile.

"You could have corrected me," I pointed out.

Rosalie chuckled. "Let me let you in on a secret. I hate my name; I was so happy when you called me Rose. I made everyone here call me Rose."

I grinned, feeling a connection with Rosalie. "Girl! And you think I don't? If this weren't an organization, I would have told you my name was Ally from the onset."

Rosalie laughed. "Rose and Ally. Doesn't it have a nice ring attached to it?" I nodded, agreeing with her.

We chatted for some time and laughed a lot. Jeez! I could tell Rosalie and I were going to get along well.

"You know you're a refreshment," Rosalie said after we both laughed our butts off.

"Refreshment? What do you mean?" I furrowed my brows, confusion evident on my face.

Rosalie smiled mischievously. "No one's ever called Mr. Reynolds a dickless meatball. One, I don't think he's dickless, and secondly, most ladies in this company want his dickless meatball; in fact, they yearn for it." She snickered.

I shrugged off my shoulder. "Then they're of the same caliber. Dick suckers and dicklessers."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "Is that even a word?"

I shrugged again. "Who cares?"

And that was the truth. Who cares? Who cares if you have a sick mother? Who cares if you're resented by your relatives? Who cares if you're happy or not?

The truth was, no one cared. Crazy world, crazy people.