CEO engaged

room. After turning on the washing machine, I called an exterminator. Some things I considered necessary. Food, water, electricity and insect control. These were four things I couldn't li

do it. I would do what I loved in the end, even if it killed me. Chapter 3 Men will never know what it feels like to have a fart move up and up your vagina. Then you have to make a weird turn to fart again. -Text from Waylynn to Darby Waylynn “What. Screw this. That's it?" I asked, looking in horror at the woman who had just decided I needed a serious talk. “It was Mrs. Miller,” said my new boss, Trudy. “Just ignore her. She feels like she always needs to be involved in everyone’s business.” Honestly, it was kind of humiliating having to find a job waiting tables at the most disgusting diner in town when I should have been working, using my degree. Gotta make the money somehow, baby. It doesn't matter if it's waiting tables or working on a pole. Money is money. My father's words ricocheted through my brain and I wanted to kill him again. When I said I would be fine working on a pole, he told me, in no uncertain terms, that I would be allowed to do that. But after working at this particular restaurant this afternoon, I was pretty sure a strip club would be the best way for me. Which is why I wasn't on my best behavior when he walked in. My attention has officially been cut short after what Ms. Miller just shared with me. “I'm going to take a smoke break,” said Trudy. “You can handle that man, right?” No, I wasn't sure I could handle Darby Valentine, but I'd give it the old college try. I stared at him as he walked in, not breaking eye contact with him until he was close enough for me to read his shirt. My lips twitched when I read what it said. “If you’re reading this right, release me from the stirrup?” I laughed. “I bought it for Banks, but he didn't want to use it,” he said as he approached the bar separating me from him. "What are you doing here?" I blinked. “Ummm,” I said, “I'm working,” shaking out my shirt with one hand. “What does it look like I’m doing?” “It looks like you're in one of the worst places in town that caters to villains, drug addicts and convicted criminals,” he said, looking around in disgust. “I saw her truck out front and thought, there's no way in hell she's working here. But I had to come just to make sure.” I shrugged. "I need a job. This place is close to the house and I can walk here.” He frowned. “Can you walk?” I agreed