Home > Savage Queen

Savage Queen
Author: C.L. Cruz

Chapter One

Evangeline

 

Todd is already waiting for me in my office when I enter. He’s assumed the classic douchebag pose—his legs spread too far apart to be necessary, his arm draped over the back of the chair beside him. Taking up too much space like the entitled man he is.

I pause in the door and consider my next move. Everything in my world is a delicate balance, a push and a pull. If I’m too soft, I’m an emotional woman, unable to handle herself in a man’s world. Go too hard, and I’m bitter, a bitch. Uncontrollable.

And there’s nothing more threatening to certain men than an uncontrollable woman.

But there are some people—like Todd, for instance—who deserve to see my savage side.

I cross the room and instead of putting the desk between us, I push his leg to the side and stand in front of him, leaning back on the desk and crossing my arms over my chest.

“What’s up?” he asks casually. The condescending smirk on his face only adds fuel to my fire.

I slide the complaint across my desk, study it even though I have it memorized, and hand it to him.

He looks at it, smirks, and then tosses it back on my desk. It skids across the surface and flutters to the ground on the other side. “Is that what this is about? Gina is a—”

“Watch your words,” I bite out.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I was going to say that Gina is exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating? How so?”

He shrugs. “It was harmless flirting. She practically asked for it. I never touched her.”

My blood boils with anger. I bring my foot up and stomp my six-inch Louboutin stiletto on the chair right between his spread legs, narrowly missing crushing his favorite body part.

He jumps back, straightening in the chair. “What the hell?”

“You’re practically asking for it.”

“That’s—”

“Harassment? Assault?” I blink at him with fake innocence. “But I never touched you.”

He snaps his mouth shut.

I let my foot fall back to the floor. “Gina is not pressing charges, but Rutherford Global Markets will no longer require your services.”

His laugh is humorless as he says, “I didn’t do anything. You can’t fire me.”

I smirk down at him. “Lest you forget, I’m president and CEO of this company. I can do whatever I want.” Right on time, the security officer appears in my door. “Officer Norton will escort you out,” I tell him.

Todd looks back and forth between me and the security officer before standing with a scoff. “This isn’t over,” he says, pointing a finger at my chest. “You’re such a raging, fucking bitch, you’re going to run this company into the ground. That’s why women…”

But I don’t hear the rest of his tirade because Officer Norton manhandles him out the door. I watch them go. As the adrenaline leaves my body, my arms begin to tremble. I shake them out, hating any sign of weakness. Seconds later, my personal assistant, Anna, slips in past the security guard, hardly fazed by the scene since her face is buried in the tablet that’s practically glued to her hand.

“How’d it go?” she asks.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt and round my desk to my chair. “As you might expect. Now I have to find a new head of HR.”

“I’ve already put up a listing.” Anna is my complete opposite in looks—pint-sized with pale skin and white-blond hair—but we both have an undeniable head for business, not letting emotions get in our way.

“Tap Gina for the position first,” I instruct her. This was a company founded by women and run by women—it should stay that way. Gina has been Todd’s underling for a year, and the fact that she was brave enough to step forward with her complaint makes me believe she’ll be a perfect advocate for our employees.

“You got it,” Anna says, typing something on her tablet—no doubt an email to Gina. “Also, about tonight.”

My head pops up. “Did you get it?”

She sits in the chair just vacated by Todd. “Dev got you on Ben Talbot’s list.”

“Hm.” Ben isn’t my favorite person, but I’ll take it.

“Tonight only. There’s some type of masquerade so they’re loosening the restrictions.” She lowers her tablet and bites her lip, looking concerned. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

I turn my chair so I’m facing her and clasp my hands on my desk. “You’re sweet to worry, but they’ve left me no other choice. You know that.”

She looks like she has more to say, but after a small hesitation, she shrugs and her face lights up when she asks, “What are you going to wear? You know, first impressions are everything.”

I smile, flipping through my wardrobe in my head. Because she’s right. First impressions are key.

And I plan to leave a lasting one.

♦ ♦ ♦

My mom meets me on Heritage Street just outside of Plum Crazy, our favorite boutique that is conveniently owned by her best friend, an eccentric old woman named Agnes Plum.

“The Oakwood Club?” my mom snaps as soon as the driver drops me off.

I tell him to swing back by for me in an hour and then turn to my mother. “Good to see you, too,” I quip, leaning down to kiss both of her cheeks. My mother worked hard for decades to build the company that I now run. I owe her everything, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to do things my way now that she’s retired.

“What are you thinking?” she asks, following me inside the store.

Plum Crazy is two stories, and each floor is packed with racks of beautiful clothes. The walls are exposed brick and the ceiling is painted a bright purple. Along the wall beside the stairs is a giant portrait of Agnes in her prime and completely naked. Agnes is standing on the stairs beside it when we come in, wearing a flowing dress and a bright red wig. My mother, in her white pantsuit with her silver-white hair, is Agnes’ complete opposite, but that doesn’t stop them from being best friends.

They greet each other with hugs and air kisses, and then my mom says to her, “Can you believe my daughter is going to the Oakwood Club?”

Agnes gasps and turns to me. “Oh, well that’s exciting. What level?”

My mother smacks her arm. The face that the club presents to the world is, while not exactly innocent, at least legal. But it’s rumored that the lower you go, the seedier it gets—gambling, stripping…sex dungeons.

“I don’t—I mean, it’s—it’s a business meeting,” I stutter.

“Did you know Charles Kingsbury invited me to the Club once? Can you imagine? I could have been Mrs. Kingsbury.”

“He didn’t want to take you there to marry you, Agnes,” my mother scolds.

Raising my voice, I say, “I’m going there to try to close a business deal.”

Agnes lifts a painted-on eyebrow at me. “A business deal?”

“A business deal,” I confirm. “I need something to wear.”

She clasps her chin in thought. “What do you want your outfit to say?”

“Professional businesswoman,” I answer automatically.

Agnes practically laughs in my face as she saunters toward a rack of clothes. “Oh, honey, no.”

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