I WANT HIM
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ANNA
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It was seven on a Monday morning, and the building still smelled of stale coffee and printer ink, right up until I stormed in.
My block heels announced a state of war before I even opened my mouth.
"You certainly don't expect me to believe CatchaGo terminated our contract just like that when we certainly had a deal at hand!" I snapped, the adrenaline finally starting to drown out my hangover.
Marcy trailed behind me like a lost puppy, her stiletto heels trying to mimic my rhythm; always a step behind, always the shadow.
"Well, yes ma'am, we did have a good deal with them," she started, her voice already grating on my nerves, "but you did not present yourself at the meeting, giving your female problems as an excuse. We tried to negot..."
"Periods. That's a valid reason to avoid a meeting with men," I cut her off, collapsing into my chair with as much grace as I could muster. "My moods don't click well with beards when I bleed."
Marcy flinched, forcing one of those fake smiles of hers as I launched my purse across the room. Jabal caught it effortlessly and placed it on the stand next to my desk.
I saw Marcy cringe at his devotion. Poor thing. She’s worked for me since college and still hasn't earned enough trust to catch my handbag. I had reserved a privilege for Jabal, just to get on her nerves.
Marcy has the title of assistant, but let's be real, she doesn’t have the respect she thinks she’s entitled to. She hates me with a precision that’s almost professional, wearing her loathing like a piece of armor. She thinks I’m ungrateful because I flaunt the wealth, beauty, and confidence she never had growing up.
Since she can't replace me, she’s made it her mission to turn me into some "if it were me" version of a CEO that only exists in her head. To her, I’m just an arrogant, spoiled brat.
She honestly thinks I’m unaware of her little façade; the dutiful nodding, the calculated smiles, the "shoulder to cry on" act. She’s spent years studying my world, my tastes, and my quirks, trying to find a vulnerability. When her actual skills failed her, she used money to buy thirteen "excellency awards" in various talents. Fake and completely pathetic. Not that I ever acknowledge them. And that’s the point.
Me? I’m not just a rich Nepo CEO Princess. I live for fashion, sexual pleasure, clubbing, and honestly, a bit of light boyfriend-stealing. I’ve been running Scam Beauty for eight years since my parents handed it over, a nice little slice of the Seclone Group empire that started in Joburg in the '80s and spread all the way to California. I am beauty with wealth, and I make no apologies for it.
"Jabal, we have a meeting later. I see you forgot to shave your beard, so, I'll give you five... No, fifteen minutes to run to the convenience store and get yourself a proper shaver. That will not be on the company's card." I ordered, kicking off my heels and reaching for my slippers.
My hangover from yesterday's clubbing made the idea of heels unbearable.
"Argh! My head is killing me. Please bring me a Grandpa on your way back, Jabal..." I groaned dramatically.
"Jabal left five minutes ago," Marcy said, a faint, annoying smirk tugging at her lips. "Where is your head at, Anna? We need to fix the mess you made with CatchaGo. You certainly don't want a repeat of that Russian kidnapping incident, do you?"
I rolled my eyes. "CatchaGo is run by the Romano family and they are Italian," I corrected her arrogantly. Accuracy matters, even when you're dying. "Now, tell me, have the Doritos I ordered from South Africa arrived yet? Cravings call for homeland delicacies."
"I haven't received any word from the reception," Marcy snorted, looking amused. "On whose name was the order placed again? Mart? Mark?" She mocked me, mentioning a jackass that ruined my night. The very reason why I had this terrible hangover.
I tilted my head and gave her my best smirk. "It's Nunovabusynessss. Yes, the recipient's name. Did you catch that?"
"You always have to have the last word," Marcy muttered, rolling her eyes. "None-of-my-business. I caught it. Loud. And. Clear."
She pushed back from my desk and slammed the door behind her, as she left.
"Sakki-ya," I cursed under my breath.(Korean|bustard)
Fifteen minutes ticked by and still no signs of Jabal. I was far too lazy to reach for my phone which was all the way in my purse, a whole two meters away. So I just sank further into my chair and rolled it toward the window.
My gaze drifted over the company grounds, tracking Jabal as he moved through the outdoor parking lot below.
My mind started to wander back to the day I first met him. Johanness Jabal. My Iranian bodyguard. I’d plucked him from nowhere after nearly losing my life during a reckless encounter with one of my Russian flings.
My eyes followed him now, but then something else caught my attention. Something far more interesting than Jabal's familiar stride.
Jabal
I knew I was running out of time the moment I spotted Anna by the window, five stories up. A surge of anxiety hit me; I needed a bribe, some small peace offering, to soften the storm that would surely break over me the second I stepped back into that office.
Being Anna's bodyguard was never a simple gig, especially during that time of the month. It was a delicate balancing act between being a protector, therapist, and a stand-in lover if circumstances demanded it.
Anna's temper was mercurial, prone to violent outbursts whenever she parted ways with her latest fling.
Her flings were usually those brief, intense affairs that get fixed a day or two before her "four days of female struggles," as she called them. They are just for her ovulation phase, if you ask me.
For a man like me, those four days were a pure endurance test. Every second was a tightrope walk, managing her moods while trying my best not to be crushed beneath them.
"Laroi, good morning," I grunted, greeting one of the coworkers as I passed him in the parking lot.
"Good morning sir. You are rather early as always," Laroi replied.
I gave him a nod and quickened my pace, dodging two rogue parcels that flew from the window like daggers.
I deliberately avoided the private elevator that would have delivered me straight into Anna's line of sight before I was properly shaved. Instead, I made my way to the men's restroom on the third floor, carefully skipping the fifth-floor facilities to avoid being dragged out mid-shave. She’s done that to me countless times before, and I wasn't about to endure the humiliation of walking around half-shaven on a Monday morning.
Finally, I spotted her by the window, looking serene and oblivious. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I entered the office quietly, moving behind her and bending down to hug her.
I felt the subtle shift in her body as she relaxed at the familiar scent of my aftershave, letting her guard drop, if only for a minute.
"I brought you an aspirin and coffee to start your day," I said softly, brushing a light kiss over her head. "They didn't have grandpa over the counter."
"Who is that?"
"Who?" My eyes scanned the street and parking lot before settling on the guy from earlier. "Oh... that? He's our Team 3 marketing manager, Laroi Mad."
"Oh... he looks decent. Get him for me, I need a new ride since the last fucker messed with the business. Speaking of which, why didn't you know he worked for the Romanos? I hate a regret that came with sharing a bed with a betraying snitch. Not that I trusted him, but... fuck him. My head's still killing me from yesterday's hangover."
I exhaled and stepped closer, moving her chair slightly so she was facing me, just enough to catch her eyes.
"Who were you with yesterday? You literally had my number blocked," I said, leaning down to meet her gaze. "Did you want me to come and seek for you?"
Anna smirked, rolling her eyes and pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "No. I knew you were following me, Jabal. So you know exactly where I was and who I was with. That's beside the point. Why didn't you know about that son of a bitch? You're supposed to protect me, for fuck's sake!"
I leaned back slightly, hands resting on the edge of her desk as I measured her fury, letting a fraction of tension build in the space between us. "Well, I knew he was suspicious... but I didn't bother digging deeper. He had only a week to fuck off. Plus, you didn't even get his name, it was a hassle to figure it out on my own. And he didn't seem dangerous enough to betray you like that."
"Yes. It took him just one fuck to access my laptop and spread a virus that cost me thousands to fix. Do you know how many bags and shoes I could've bought with that money? Let alone how much it actually cost in Rands. That's the worst part." (Rand is a South African currency. 1$ = R16)
I reached over and adjusted the papers scattered on her desk, keeping my movements deliberate and controlled.
"I'm sorry about that, Princess. But really, stop converting American dollars to your country's currency for your own sanity. That's my friendly advice."
Anna leaned back, spinning slightly in her chair to lock eyes with me, a predatory glint in her gaze. "More like a warning, since the end result would be me in a psych ward," she said in that sharp voice of hers.
"Now, go deal with him. Deal with the CatchaGo contract too. I also need a fuck toy at 9 PM tomorrow at the Beverly Hills villa. Bring that boy..." She paused, her eyes slowly drifting to the lower part of my torso. She leaned forward, just enough to make me tense up. "...or yourself!"
I froze, caught between the edge in her tone and the dangerous gleam in her eyes. I felt that familiar mix of thrill and dread that comes with being trapped in her orbit.
