Dark & Stormy (Whip 5)

Chapter 1

STEFAN

The alarm goes off, followed by a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass making me curse as I sit up in bed, blinking blearily.

One glance over the edge of the bed makes me sigh as my eyes fall on my phone, letting out another colorful curse as soon as I notice the display is cracked slightly.

There goes another one, I think as I leave the bed, picking it up on my way to the bathroom, feeling relieved once I see that the phone still works. I'm already going to be late for work and the last thing I need was to have to stop for a last-minute shopping.

There's a missed call from my mother but I choose to ignore it, not that that is new seeing as I try to avoid my family as much as possible, dropping the phone next to the bathroom sink and taking off my clothes so I can shower.

I doubt that it's something serious, despite the early hour, seeing as my mother wakes up before dawn every day, something that I could never understand. I'll eventually call her because if I don't, there's going to be a hell to pay.

An hour and one stop at the coffee shop later, I walk into my office, sighing as I pass what would be my assistant's desk if I still had one, cringing at the sound of the phone ringing. It's going to be a long day; I think as I close the door to my office and walk over to the desk.

I really need to hire a new assistant, I think two hours later as I end another call, staring morosely at the pile of paperwork that I'm supposed to be filling up instead of making appointments and all the other leg work in a PA's job description.

I go about making an ad for the position, knowing that I should have done that two weeks ago which was when my previous assistant had quit, but just the thought of countless interviews makes me want to curl up in my chair and die.

I hate those with every fiber of my being, especially since it seems as if I'm doing them every two months or so.

See, I have a bit of a problem with my PAs, or, they have a problem with me. I'm well aware of the fact that I'm the one to blame, seeing as I'm very particular about what I want and how I want it done, a 'Devil wears Prada' type some would say, and combined with my workaholic ways, the entire thing spells disaster once it comes to the people working directly for me.

It's not like I'm a slave driver, even though some of my former employees would beg to differ, but I do need someone who can push long hours without complaining about it and that has proven to be an impossible task to accomplish.

I'm a man that has come from a low-class, bordering on a poor family, and I've built my business from grounds up, completely alone.

I've spent countless hours and a thousand sleepless nights trying to build my future, my legacy. I have endured, persevered on my journey despite the doubts and all the nay-sayers telling me that I'm an idiot for thinking that I could do it, and now that I have, now that I'm finally where I always wanted to be, at the top of the food chain, I will be damned if I let it all fail, even if I have to do everything alone.

∞

I nod at the bouncer as I stride past him, a small smile curling my lips as I walk into Whip.

I've been feeling tense for the past week, the work busting my balls even more than usual due to having to do everything by myself, something I hope will be over soon seeing as I'll be conducting interviews for a new PA come Monday morning.

I make my way through the crowd and up to the closed-off section, nodding at the regulars I encounter as I set my course toward the bar.

I plan on ordering a simple soda, since I fully intend to play tonight and I never drink when I do that, preferring to keep my head clear. But, as I approach the bar, my eyes falling on the man standing there and talking to Dean, the quiet bartender, I quickly change my mind as I overhear a whisp of their conversation.