When a confession goes wrong, Sutton Olivers blackmails the right man to help her complete the one thing on her mind: revenge.
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When the spitfire, Sutton Olivers falls in love with her sexy roommate...
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ＳＵＴＴＯＮ 1. self-destruction
Holy shit, if another sound comes out of this vapid woman's mouth and I'm raising all hell on her ass.
On most days, I would be able to handle Peg's annoying voice, but with a hangover larger than the moon and no coffee, my hands are 2.5 seconds away from wrapping themselves around her throat and choking the ever-loving life out of her.
Unfortunately, at work, we don't have a coffee machine.
Terrible, yes, but the CEO here at EXCO is an asshole and apparently doesn't want any "distractions," even if it is coffee. Cue eye roll. But we don't say anything because we don't want to get fired and the pay here is amazing.
I look up at the ceiling.
God, give me strength.
Peg and I have spaces next to each other and because of that, she thinks we are instant "besties" and wants to talk to me about everything, even her sexual fantasies with her doorman.
Kill me.
"So I was like 'Junior how could you do that?' And he just barked! How could he do that?!"
Right now, she's talking about her yelling at her dog, Junior. I've seen millions of pictures of him before and have to say myself, the border collie is indeed a cutie. Too bad he had to live with this babbling idiot.
As she talked, I looked around me to see everyone working in pace and never stopping. So what was I doing?
While Peg talked, the devil in a grey pantsuit walked up into my space and glared at me. I stopped my slow work and looked up at her.
Everyone in the office was scared of this woman, everyone except me and the man she worked for. Wrinkles stretched for miles on her face and she grimaced at me.
See, this woman knew I didn't have a slur of fear in me when she came around.
I wanted her to say something to me; to get mad. So I can finally wipe that large mole off her face, but she never does.
When this woman glares at me, I glare back, harder.
She gives up and looks away.
"Mr. Wilson wants you." She says before leaving me alone.
I let out a sigh before standing up from my chair.
Wilson was one asshole that I couldn't get away from; he actually liked me. He was the chief marketing officer and unfortunately I was in marketing.
I push my way through the crowding of moving people without a simple, "excuse me" or "move". My headache had gotten worse and I was going to take it out on somebody and that somebody is going to be Wilson.
