A Billionaire's Trouble

The persistent aroma of pepperoni clung to Audrey like a second skin. “C’mon big guy, just let me through,” she pleaded, her voice strained as she faced the behemoth of a bodyguard. He had, with surprising agility, intercepted her before she could even reach the revolving doors of the imposing building. Her brow furrowed, she aimed her nastiest glare at him, a futile attempt to pierce his stony demeanor. She was a walking advertisement for pizza, a cap adorned with a cheesy slice perched precariously on her head, a stack of pizza boxes clutched in her arms. And yet, this human wall wouldn't budge.
“Does it look like I want to sneak into this damn building that I don’t even know the name of?” she scoffed, taping his forehead with a finger. “I just want to get my damn money and deliver the pizza, you big lug! Get me the fricken money and I’ll leave you alone forever!”
