My mouth falls open in horror. “This is how you see me?”
“This is how you are,” Jameson replies. He begins to tap the whiteboard. “Now . . . back to the tracking,” he continues.
My angry heartbeat bangs hard in my ears as I look between them. I can’t believe this. “I am not broken.”
“Spoiled,” Elliot adds.
“How am I spoiled?” I gasp in horror.
Jameson screws up his face. “Oh, please.”
“I am not fucking spoiled.”
“Yes, you are,” Elliot replies.
“Name one way,” I snap.
“You have never had a job interview but have your dream job. You have penthouses in New York, London, and Paris, staff all around the world. You have a sports car collection worth ten million dollars. Somehow people think you are stupidly good looking, and you only have to look a woman’s way and she drops her panties . . . regardless if she’s married or not,” Jameson says calmly.
I open my mouth to defend myself, but no words come out.
“And . . . you won’t date an average girl because they are below you,” Tristan adds.
“Nobody wants to date an average girl,” I cry, outraged.
Jameson looks me fair and square in the eyes. “Name the last time you had to work for something, Christopher.”
“Fuck off,” I huff.
“No, I’m being serious. When was the last time you set yourself a goal and didn’t have it the same night?”
Elliot smiles as he rocks back on his chair, and I look between them as they all wait for my answer.
“He’s got nothing. Not one single time.” Tristan smirks.
“I have goals I haven’t achieved yet,” I stammer, embarrassed.
“Sleeping alone?” Elliot suggests.
They throw their heads back and laugh out loud, thinking this is the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.
Betrayal washes over me.
This is how they see me?
“Fuck you.” I stand. “And fuck your stupid meeting. I’m not staying here and listening to this bullshit.” I storm from the office and slam the door hard.
“Get back here, wimp,” Jameson yells from behind me.
I hear them burst out laughing once more . . . fuckers.
I march past reception, and the secretaries all glance up at my angry demeanor.
This is probably a first. I’m never angry.
“Everything all right, Christopher?” Victoria frowns.
“No. It’s not,” I huff. “Those fuckers in there think that I’m spoiled.” I throw my hands up in the air as I march past. “Can you fucking believe that?”
“No. Not at all.” Victoria rolls her lips to hide her smile.
I narrow my eyes in a silent warning and continue marching for my office. I hear the secretaries all snicker from the reception area.
I see red.
The world’s gone mad. I begin to pack my briefcase with force.
I.
Am.
Not.
Spoiled.
I take offense at this accusation. How dare they? Do they even know what spoiled is? I really don’t think so.
I walk back out to the elevator, and the girls all look up, surprised.