Billionaire Stole My Panties (Being Edited)

CHAPTER 4.

It was like an episode of the Walking Dead, starring me, the stand-alone zombie. I barely slept last night. Every time I closed my eyes I was plagued with dreams  of Brandon dragging me back to his apartment. Joey had taken me around his apartment in hopes to assure me that I was safe but that wasn't enough to calm my nerves. I manage to get two hours of sleep with Joey beside me but when morning came, so did the nerves. I was scared shitless to even leave the apartment this morning. Joey calmed me down with talks of the good old days and step by step he got me to leave the apartment. I can't live in this constant fear of Brandon. I'm questioning the woman I've become. I use to be so strong and fearless and now..... the tiniest shadow makes me want to cower and hide.

I dropped onto my chair, sighing. At least I'm early....by two minutes but it's an improvement. I took a deep breath and forced myself to stop staring at the elevator half expecting Brandon to appear like a dark knight. Forget him, Aubrey. You're no longer living with him—he's not your problem—you can relax. I turned on my computer and jumped when the staff meeting's reminder  popped on my screen. Oh right, that's today. Time to find out who the new Editor-In-Chief is. I got up and went to the elevator. It took a minute before it opened. I walked inside then pressed 14F. I sucked in a deep breath then let it out slowly. I'm so exhausted. I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight...I'm hoping.

The elevator opened less than a minute later. The meeting is in the Creative Department because it has the largest conference room in the building. There were at least 15 glass cubicles split unevenly on both sides of the elevator. Inside each cubicle was a cafe table-like desk and a  rustic stool. Each desk had some kind of wacky desk lamp, a desktop, and a potted plant. The rest of the room had a glass partition enclosing the conference room.
The conference room was large but not large enough to hold Spectrum's entire staff. Some of the staff had to stand behind the doorway, around the partition, and around the Creative staff's cubicles watching live footage of what was going on inside.

The people inside were either interacting with each other or on their phones. I said good morning as I squeezed my way inside the conference room. It was like walking through a jungle of overwhelming colognes and perfumes, and the occasional sweaty armpit. The sweating I could understand because all this excess body heat was making in here unbearably hot. When I got to the front, I saw Leila Michel, our star photographer. She smiled at me and beckoned me over, giving me a small portion of her chair. Leila's heart-shaped face was covered in freckles. She's blue-eyed, pale-skinned and her copper hair is styled in a messy ponytail. She's 6 years older than I am. She wasn't thin nor heavy. She's dressed in a white blouse, black and white striped Palazzos, and brown wedges.

"What do you think the staff meeting is about?" She asked, hooking her arm with mine when I sat down. I bit my lip. As much as I hate lying—because I'm a terrible liar—I don't want to ruin the surprise. I shrugged, stiffly. She gave me a skeptical look. Think fast, Bre!

"Err...may-maybe a new water fountain." I lied. She narrowed her eyes at me, I tried my best to keep my face neutral.

"Finally!" She exclaimed, her face lit up like a light bulb. Oh thank, God. I sighed in relief. She threw her hands in the air, mouthing hallelujah. I smiled, stiffly. I looked up when everyone stopped muttering. Mr Pereira walked past us, and behind him was a good-looking, blonde stranger. I met his gaze and he smiled at me. Wow, the resemblance is uncanny, he's one of Mr Pereira's sons, perhaps?  I smiled back before turning my attention to Mr Pereira.

He stood beside Mr Pereira still wearing that sweet smile of his, his eyes scanning the room. He had to be in his mid-twenties. He wore half of his wavy, shoulder-length, blonde hair in a bun on top of his head and the rest fell over his shoulders. His dark blue eyes popped under his dark eyelashes and eyebrows. He doesn't have his father's jawline nor his nose, his face was a lot softer—more feminine and his small nose bone straight. His lips were a deep shade of pink and heart-shaped similar to Joey's but he had his father's smile. He's about 6'1, an inch taller than Mr Pereira, and slim with a bit of muscle. He wore khakis, a white shirt with a black tie, and brown loafers. In all my years of working for Mr. Pereira, I've only met three of his eleven sons. Jonah, Jose, and Joey, the youngest and triplets. "Hmm. Gimme some of that." Leila said. I looked at her smirking face, she met my gaze and winked. I laughed and shook my head.