Pete was the most elusive of all the Trelleco's C-level officers. The money man—as his vendors referred him to—had many fronts before people could meet him. He operated through proxies of competent underlings, leaving little room for people to request meeting him personally. Anyone wanting to negotiate with him must first go through this walls of bureaucracy—they were usually exhausted before they got near him. By this way, he retained control and always had the last say—all achieved without a sweat.
"Ah! My delicious Gina," Pete said as he entered the private room they reserved at Le Fonte, "and luscious Rhonda."
Ugh, what gross misconduct, but at least he delivers his end of every bargain and he's never actually dangerous, Gina let him get away with his lecherous greeting and gav
Rhonda took off her blazer, and hung it over the back of her chair. She smiled at Pete, welcoming his lewd stare on her body, covered by a dark blue bustier, showing off her angular shoulders, bared her arms and most of her upper chest, with a deep cleavage that gave hope of its depth. With her exotic voice, she asked, "How can you help, Pete?" Pete knew they were playing a game. He and Gina had established the rules and played the game several times. From him, Gina gained what she needed to conduct business with Trelleco, and in return, he had some personal favor done for him. Gina was so exquisite that being seen with her was a reward on its own, so in some occasions she had let him take her to gathering amongst friends outside of work as one form of favors. 
What do I do all this for? This isn’t really my responsibility, nor does my boss expect me to handle this with no direct guidance from him. Yet, here I go without him, and I feel the exhilaration, the spirit to fight, and the will to bear the consequential pain—although at my young age, and having always been protected by my boss, I don't really know what that pain would entail. Do I want to win, is that the reason I do this for? To score in life, as I score with men. Or do I want to win for him? To prove that I am worthy of critical responsibility, or worthy to be his, and his alone—he should not have shared me with Raymond; it's really his loss. But if I am defeated, how would I feel then? But worse stil
The following morning was a business-as-usual day. The Boss would not be back until late afternoon, so he would not be available to sign the Grabbel contract until then. Raymond was a partner and she could ask him to sign. After that, she could stow the contract in the drawer, hand the operations over to Project and be done with it until the next commercial event appeared—whatever it would be. So that was what she was going to do, and she had better do it fast before the Toms and Dungis of the workplace complicated it. Raymond was surprised; it had been a long time since anybody sought him out. And who sought him out was none other than Gina. From one extreme to the other, he thought, smiling and nearly dropping his half-smoked cig
"Georg, if Colin makes good on his blackmail, not only could he go to Benina, he could also go to Kronos. If Kronos contacts my board, it will be worse." Abram had called The Boss who was then waiting at the airport executive lounge for his flight back to Seattle. "It could be made into a scandal, and the board may oust me. I’m getting nervous, to be honest." He sighed, then, "I probably would have to delay the Indonesian project, or worse, drop it off altogether." That was a heavy reality. The Indonesian project was a stellar opportunity for both gentlemen and their companies, but Abram staying at the helm was the pillar of everything—as it stood, it was not a choice. "Decide nothing until next week," The Boss said.
On Friday morning, Gina woke up early. She sat down by the edge of the bed. She didn't feel mentally fresh and was slightly emotional. Her boss seemed evasive. She hadn't seen him after his return from D.C.; a gift package replaced his presence instead. Since the night they kissed, nothing had felt as right as before. To make matters worse, Rhonda was getting to be just as evasive—not available to take her call—when she needed her friend and co-planner to talk to the night before they were to execute their plan. She looked out of her window. Still dark. It was a cold morning, colder than the many mornings before. Winter was a few days away. She could see the wind blowing hard as the trees were swaying and the street was already full of the fallen leaves. She recalled the insults Colin hurled at her thr
Pete was restless. He began his day by looking at his wristwatch. He did so hourly, and left meetings with his team while they were still in progress. He took his lunch at his desk, and declined Abram's invitation to meet over drinks in the evening. His secretary had consistently failed to get his attention all morning, and he asked her to push every agenda in the afternoon to the following week. She was not sure what was happening with her boss. At 1 in the afternoon, he headed out of the office and had his driver take him home. From inside the car, he made a call. "Hi, Gina. Are we still on for tonight at 10?" he smiled as he heard the answer. "Ok, good. I was thinking, why don't we have dinner there, too? Or somewhere else if
Giorgio Castelli was a successful restauranteur. He started his business by opening a small Italian restaurant in Bellevue. The place was so small it could only host eight people over two small tables at once. But that did not deter the determination of his customers to have his excellent cooking. Most of them would queue just to have their orders to go. He used up most of the space for the kitchen, which was separated from the dining area by one big window. There, he and his three sisters worked the magic, and let the guests watch how the dough was processed before it became the superb pasta they were going to have. The Boss had heard of this excellent little Italian place and one day asked his secretary to get him the gnocchi. It came to his desk in a standard packaging—a plain container with a simple sticker of the restaurant's name—but what was in it The Boss found exceptional. He b
They exchanged pleasantries, and to go with it, they had beers. When the second round came, the server served cocktails for the girls, and a bottle each of rum and bourbon. This was when the seating arrangement—where all the girls were seated between the two gentlemen—changed. As soon as the server left, Gina excused herself to go to the ladies' room. When she was back, Pete was already seated between Rhonda and Linda, and Colin was next to Linda. Perfect! She thought, then she sat at one end of the couch, intentionally leaving a big gap between her and Colin on the U-shape sofa, and quickly busying herself by pouring a glass of rum. "Is that for me?" Colin asked as he moved closer to Gina, closing the distance between them. "Oh, I thought you already have a glass in your hand," she said with