Who in the hell does this nigga think he is? First of all , my name is not shortie , and second,
he doesn't tell me we're going out , he asks me !
And how is he just gonna assing a phone to me? He don't know me like that.
" Ms. Devereaux . Excuse me, Ms. Devereaux !" the receptionist
yelled in an annoyed tone.
I was so take by Vegas that I didn't even hear her calling my name.
"Yes," I responded back, just as annoyed.
"Mr. Glenn will see you now."
I rose from where I had been sitting and advanced toward Mr.Glenn's office , but not before
picking up my link to that fine, curiosity ass, specimen who had sparked my curiosity.
I placed the phone inside my purse and walked toward his office , my stomach bubbled with fear .
I entered the room and stood motionless watching as he talked on his cell phone.
The man before me was quite attractive in his navy Armani suit .He seemed to be in his mid-thirties . His skin was pale ,hair was dark,and his eyes were green.
He quickly wrapped up his phone call and gestured for me to have a seat.
