Chapter 4 The Late Night Meeting

• Blair’s P.O.V
• 2 Years Later…
• “I’m extremely sorry, Ms. Desmond, but Mr. Maxwell will not be able to make it for the dinner reservations tonight.”
• I tried to keep my voice neutral, polite even, but the scream that tore through the other end of the line hand me wincing and fearing for the safety of my ear-drums.
• “How dare he! That fucking jackass! He’s with that B-list actress isn’t he?”
• Technically, none of us in the office, me included, was aware of Landon’s personal life anymore. Who he was with; who he dated at day and at night? Which one of the many women he was toying with together was actually the one he wanted to be with…nothing.
• I think he had his suspicions from the very first day that one of the biggest reasons why I was hired to be his secretary, was to report his every movement, both professional and private…to his father. So he had become even stealthier, while keeping up an appearance as the bad boy billionaire heir of one of Seattle’s biggest businessmen.
• “I’m sorry, Ms. Desmond, I’m just a lowly secretary. I have no right to ask the CEO about his personal life…” I answered the aggravated woman truthfully. “However, Mr. Maxwell has sent you a fully paid vacation voucher to the Maldives as a token of just how sorry he is; along with a gift card at Ralph Lauren’s. Only the latest fashion for your next exhibit.”
• This time I opted for the poor victim of circumstances card mixed in with the compensation card, because I had no idea how to handle the situation otherwise.
• One of the first things I had been taught when I first started working for Landon, after he was calm enough that he could stand to see my face in front of him, wasn’t how to take care of business risks or financial matters, but…how to deal with the post-break up treatment for his many mistresses. Whenever Mr. Maxwell broke up with one of his many flings, I had to choose from one, or a combination of several of the following options on how to best handle the situation:
• 1. Be calm, polite and to the point.
• 2. Send in expensive gifts and a ‘break-up’ note.
• 3. Be rude to some extent in case the clingy devils reared their heads.
• 4. Block. Delete. Erase.
• No, unfortunately, none of these descriptions had been a part of my job definition when I was first hired two years ago, at a hospital in front of my dying brother’s cabin.
• Fresh out of Yale, I had imagined a more challenging job where I would be facing the world head on; making tough calls and life-changing decisions. But one incident changed my entire life…and what I got instead was the job to babysit a twenty eight year old bad-boy, spoilt brat, son of a billionaire, who could give two fucks about ruining his father’s image or spending the billions that Mr. Bernard Maxwell had worked so hard to earn. Now I could understand why his father had been so concerned about me reporting his son’s doing to him at all costs.
• But who was I to complain? I was indeed just a lowly secretary who did all his dirty work, and yes, that included taking out real trash. That little crush that I had formed for Landon Maxwell on the day of my interview…it was crushed under his foot the very first day I began working for him when he had tossed my aside and treated me like shit.
• ‘You’re nothing more than my father’s booty call and you belong at my feet!’
• His words still hurt…but strangely, my heart had never stopped fluttering every time I saw Landon…and it broke a little bit every time I saw his arms around another woman…his lips on another woman’s face.
• As the phone disconnected on the other end, without so much as another word or even another string of curses, I knew that the compensation for this break up had paid off well. No one could refuse a vacation to the Maldives and a Ralph Lauren exclusive. Especially a famous painter on the rise to stardom.
• Landon Maxwell had a penchant for young female artists, preferably in their early to mid twenties; preferably blonde or brunette with a killer body and those who were very open about their sexuality and knew exactly what they wanted. It didn’t take them long to end up in his bed…but neither did they stay there for long either. I’d personally never seen any of those relationships last more than two to three months at the longest, but it was none of my business…I guess.
• Sighing, I readied all the files that I had to submit to legal before I went home for the day. One thing I could not bitch about though, no matter how much I hated his ‘man-whore-ish’ tendencies…was that Landon Maxwell was a brilliant businessman. He had that intimidating gray eyed stare that could make even the toughest men uncomfortable. Those broad shoulders that seemed to be carrying the weight of the world…
• Snapping out of my stupid little fangirl session, I got up from my desk and began clearing everything out. Landon hardly ever mixed business with pleasure and I have been working here for the past two years. If he had wanted me, then he would’ve made his move long ago. But since he suspected that I reported to his father, I knew that was one fantasy that was never coming true.
• As the clock struck seven, I took all my files in my hands and began making my way to the elevators, so I could get the files to legal and get my ass back home. It was a Friday night and I had nowhere else to be. And after a tiring week at the office, I would rather get some much needed beauty sleep, order Doordash and check out my favorite kdramas on Netflix, than be drunk and dancing in a club in six inch heels.
• But just as I was about to get into the elevators, my phone began to ring with the ringtone that I had specifically set for my boss.
• Juggling my files and my bag, I pulled out my phone and placed it on my shoulders. “Sir?”
• “Get my files for the Rockwood Hotel project and bring them to the Marriott Waterfront. 9 PM sharp.” Landon commanded in his usual curt voice, keeping his call short and simple. “And dress nice.”
• “Excuse me?” I stared at the phone with open-mouthed horror. But the boss had already hung up the phone.