The Billionaire Boss's Agenda
I banged the table once again with my fist, grabbing the glass and swallowed the whole load of whiskey, needing to be intoxicated so that I'd forget.
"Junior Smith," Stanley began to recite as he placed a thin folder in front of me, "28 years old and an accountant. He's 6'2"-"
"I'm 6'4"," I countered, proving that I was better than him.
"-wears size 12-" I'm 11.5, he didn't beat me much there either.
"I don't give a fuck about shit like that," I snapped at Stanley, "give me something good, give me all the juicy details. Bad credit? Did he ever rape someone? Kill someone? Dammit, Stanley!"
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