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Chapter 1
My annoyance is at an all-time high. I once again scream into the intercom for my assistant, Marina. I’m positive the entire office can hear my screeching, but I don’t give a shit. They know how I am, a hardnosed bitch. I hear the whispers and comments when my staff think I’m out of earshot.
Seconds later, Marina finally comes breezing through my door, all five foot two of her. She’s out of breath and holding a stack of manila folders in her arms, biting her full bottom lip. It’s obvious I scared her. Good. I’ve managed to retain my throne as the Ice Queen of Los Angeles.
I stood up as she entered, placing my hands flat on the desk while leaning forward. “Where the hell were you?”
Marina stammered, “I-I-I was getting the files you requested.” She plunked them down on the corner of my large mahogany desk and backed away as if I would lunge at her.
I gritted my teeth while maintaining my stance. “I told you not to leave your desk unless you let me know.”
She looked at the floor as she slumped her shoulders. “I apologize, but I wanted to get you these folders before you left.”
“Speaking of which…where is my itinerary?”
She peeked up at me, her face tight with fear. “I sent it to your e-calendar. Did you not receive it?”
The fact was, I hadn’t checked. I made Marina wait, not saying a word to her while I checked my calendar on both my laptop and phone.
I shot her a dismissive glance. “It’s here. You can go.”
“Yes, Miss Stone.”
I watched as Marina turned on her black heels and slinked out of my office. I was in a foul mood, and sometimes, it gave me perverse pleasure to torture my staff. The fact is, I was miserable and lonely, but it was my own doing.
For the past three years, I’ve run Spotlight Media with an iron fist. I was put here for a reason because my reputation preceded me. I was an up and comer at Mountain Top Media when the board at Spotlight made me an offer with so many benefits and perks; I would be a fool to refuse.
I slipped into the position to replace the former disgraced CEO, Wilmer Laudon, who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. With mounting lawsuits concerning his harassment of women and a few men, it was time for Spotlight to cut ties. They hired me because they needed a strong female to take the helm and right the ship. I did it in less than two years. Profits are up, way up, and actors no longer fear that they need to be on guard when entering a meeting with the CEO.
After today, I’ll be on a glorious two-week vacation in the Maldives. No bullshit, no whining actors, directors or agents to nag me, just sun, beautiful ocean, and peace. Peace is what I crave but get so little. I finish clearing my desk and find two envelopes I forgot to give Marina to mail. For years, ever since the incident, which gives me nightmares and prevents me from trusting men, I’ve donated to a women’s crisis center. The other donation is to the Los Angeles Animal Rescue.
It would probably surprise people that I love animals since my life is - well, medicinal and cold. Colors are not my strong suit, and I wear outfits in a very tight spectrum of brown, black, and gray. I believe several of my subordinates call them frumpy and lifeless. My business attire is what it is because I don’t want to give men ideas. I hide my breasts under blouses buttoned up to my neck and suits one size bigger, so they hang on my petite frame.
Marina is sitting at her desk when I exit my office, looking as scared as when she slinked away. She looks up at me, waiting for my next assault. I’m sure she’s holding her breath since her chest no longer is expanding and contracting. I drop the envelopes on her desk among the folders, files, and paperwork. My foul mood has decreased some since our last exchange, or I would question the chaos.
I gesture to the letters. “I need you to mail these.”
She plucks them off the desk, and I can see a hint of a smile. “I’ll bring them to the mailroom after you leave.”
“Thank you, Marina. You can leave for the evening.”
“Have a nice vacation,” she calls as I walk away.
I turn my head to look at her. “Please only contact me with emergencies; otherwise, don’t.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I wince when she says ma’am, it makes me feel like an old woman and Marina is only four years younger than me.
“Goodnight.”
I can almost hear the shouts of rejoice when I enter the elevator and the doors shut. I’m sure the atmosphere around the office will be much more relaxed now that the Ice Queen is away. Let the staff have their fun because when I get back, their lives will be back to normal, my normal.
My footsteps echo on the light stone of the foyer as I enter my home in the hills of Los Angeles. It’s large, too large for one person, with several bedrooms and plenty of space. Sterile is what some might call it. As with my clothing, the color scheme is dull, black, and white. I rarely spend time in any rooms other than my bedroom.
A maid comes four times a week to clean because I need order and a dirt-free environment. My gleaming stainless-steel refrigerator rarely has food inside, and most of the time, the only things that graced the glass shelves are wine and water bottles. Before I head upstairs to finish packing, I pour myself a glass of white wine into a large crystal goblet and search out a granola bar in the pantry.
I’ve been to the Maldives several times, and I keep going back because of the impeccable service and solitude. On the outside, my life might seem like it’s all glamour and parties, but it’s not. I’m lonely, and I blame myself. My past experiences have turned me into a bitch.
