73: I hate rich people

I didn't want to say anything else to get the conversation heated so I just asked that we meet instead.

I sent my driver to pick him up and then I tossed my phone to the desk and gave a loud sigh.

Shifting in the leather chair, I stretched up to glance out of the big room window.

Down the long, winding drive at the front of the house. The dense tree line in the distance swayed like a dark green sea against the grey, late afternoon skies, but there was no other movement.

There was no sign of John yet or the driver who I sent to pick him up. I sat back, and took comfort in a sip of scotch, relishing the burn as it trailed down my throat. It was rich and overpowering, the exact type John liked.

I already ordered the bottle of scotch of a delicious meal for John. I knew he'd be famished by the time……