I Want My Refund!
Every second the clock ticked by, the young woman’s anxiousness intensified. Ari compulsively checked her wristwatch in two-minute intervals, counting down until fifteen agonizing minutes crawled by. She noticed there were no mirrors in the dark lobby she sat in, only the distorted reflections offered by the gold gilding along the pillar beside her.
Leaning closer, Ari inspected herself: a swift smile to confirm her teeth were clean, a tilt of her head to make sure every dark curl upon her head glistened with luster, and finally a once-over of her business attire to check to ensure her crisp, black skirt complemented the clean lines of her simple white button-up.
All of these precautions were for this one moment: her interview with one of the youngest millionaires in her lifetime. Everyone knew his story as if it were their own, thanks to the media’s constant buzz around his name. Anything associated with him was a guaranteed goldmine.
He was a self-made man who rose from poverty to build an empire for himself, the embodiment of the American Dream. With no fancy degrees, everything he possessed was a product of his own creation. Now, she was about to step into his world, if only for a moment, to glimpse the genius everyone revered.
“—See you now,” the receptionist said with a curt edge to her voice.
Ari snapped up, blinking at the lady in confusion. She’d gotten lost in her thoughts. “Excuse me. What was that?”
The woman gave her a once over before openly rolling her eyes over her desk. With an impatient flick of her hand, she gestured toward the heavy oak doors.
“I said,” her look seemed to say for the fifth time. “He will see you now. He doesn’t have all day so hurry before one of the many other star struck guppies takes your place.”
Too nervous to even respond to the woman’s callous behavior, Ari crossed the room in a few nervous strides while tightly holding onto a black box—the closest she could get to running without looking like a fool—and pushed through the door.
As Ari walked through, her gaze immediately swept down the hallway to the elevator’s beckoning light. She maintained a composed pace, her heels echoing on the marble floors. But once she was out of the receptionist’s line of sight, she seized the moment. Her steps quickened, turning into a determined sprint toward the elevator.
The doors wooshed open, revealing a gleaming stainless-steel interior that seemed to invite her escape. Ari lunged for the closing doors, and they slid shut just as her foot crossed the threshold. She leaned against the cool metal, chest heaving as she tried to regain control of her ragged breaths.
She’d done all this work only for the reflection in the mirrored door to show a woman whose curls were limp with sweat, escaping the perfect afro she took hours to style.
If she had missed the elevator all of her time and effort into getting there would have been wasted. Unlaced Inc. was not an easy place to get to. Ari couldn’t afford to let it all go to waste. Everything was riding on this single opportunity.
She squeezed into the sleek metal box just as the doors slid shut with a soft hiss. Beside her stood a man clad in a white suit trimmed in gold threading. He barely glanced up from a tablet clutched in his manicured hands.
“And you are the person that’s here for the interview?” his voice held a bored drawl, and his focus never left the screen.
Ari, still struggling to catch her breath, managed a shaky laugh that came out more like a nervous cough. “Ah, yes. That’s certainly…me.”
“Name?” he inquired, still not looking up.
“Ari,” she squeaked, her composure crumbling under the man’s detached demeanor. He tapped at his tablet, his face betraying no emotion. Ari shifted on her feet, unable to stand the silence and tension, broken only by the soft beeps as the elevator ascended.
Finally, he muttered with a hint of annoyance, “Not on the list.” He didn’t even bother to meet her gaze as he tapped away at his tablet.
Just then the elevator chimed a cheerful ding, the display above the door reading “Mr. Draconis.” Relief washed over Ari. She couldn’t take another second of this stranger finding out the real reason she was there.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, and without waiting for a response, bolted toward the opening doors and into the hallway.
“Stop!” the man on the elevator shouted, but Ari was already long gone and down the hall, standing before the open door bearing Mr. Draconis’ name.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her clothes and marched inside.
The spacious office was bathed in natural light, spilling generously through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything seemed designed to maximize this advantage, both the abundant sunlight and the city lights that would undoubtedly paint the scene aglow come nightfall.
Ari cleared her throat, walking right up to his desk and slamming down the box in her hands. “Listen Mr. Big shot Asshole,” she began. “Your precious website said I could have a refund if I wasn’t satisfied. Does this,” she motioned to her scowling face. “Look like satisfaction to you? I want my money back. It was less than 24 hours after the 30 days! I am a busy woman who has to work hard for what I have. Give me my money back, you crook!”
The man from the elevator scurried into the room just as Ari finished her tirade. “My sincerest apologies, sir,” he said, sending a nasty glance toward the fuming woman. “I tried my best to stop her, but she was adamant about seeing you.”
A dismissive wave of Mr. Draconis’ hand silenced the assistant. “Let her be, Jinnings,” Mr. Draconis said, his gaze unwavering from the breathtaking cityscape outside of his twenty-four story window.
Doubtful, disgruntled customers crossed his path occasionally. But this woman was unlike any he’d ever encountered before. His business may have been crafted meticulously, but the occasional human error slipped through the cracks, leading to moments like these, where refunds became unwelcome guests in his office.
Mr. Draconis, however, was not known for surrendering easily. His forte lay in persuasion, in crafting win-win situations. Refunds were a last resort, a weapon he wielded only when absolutely necessary. With the practiced grace of a seasoned negotiator, he swiveled in his chair, finally acknowledging Ari.
His dark hair, the midnight blue suit, and the black tie that hung against his chest were all part of the armor he wore in the battlefield of business.
“You browsed my website, Ms. Ari. You knew exactly what you were getting.” Mr. Draconis stated, his voice cool and collected as he delicately opened the black box she had slammed onto his desk moments earlier. “However, I must caution you. I don’t take kindly to customers trying to cheat my company out of money. A dissatisfied customer wouldn’t have left residue on one of my best selling eleven-inch plastic dildos. Did you enjoy yourself?” his head tilted as he peered over his reading glasses that complemented the almond shape of his eyes.
Ari’s eyes widened at his brazen disregard for her concerns. Did he truly believe that her purchase granted him the right to look down on her? Service companies thrived on customer support, satisfied or not. Refund or no refund, a basic level of courtesy wouldn’t have hurt.
Heat prickled Ari’s skin when she thought back to his implication. She was almost certain she had cleaned the item before attempting to return it. Surely she had, right?
The past month had been a chaotic blur. Her once-thriving store teetered on the brink of closure. Her savings she’d been depending on were dissipating like sand between her fingers. All she had left to her name were the meager dollars in her pocket and the god forsaken toy Mr. Draconis wouldn’t take back.
“Employees have protocols. They think you’re the crook since you waited the last day to return your items,” Mr. Draconis leaned forward, thumbs circling each other as a smirk played across his lips. “Perhaps you enjoyed it, Ms. Ari, but now find yourself needing the money more? But…” Mr. Draconis’s voice softened a touch, “Explain your dissatisfaction with the product. Maybe I can offer an alternative.”
A dark blush crept up Ari’s neck, but her wide hazel eyes held his gaze in a heated glare. Her nose wrinkled, scattering the brown freckles across her cheeks. She wouldn’t back down. So what if he was some big shot?
“It was only hours after the thirty day mark.” Ari insisted. “I need this refund. What would satisfy me is if I got my money back!” Her full lips pressed together in distaste as she shook her head, sending her curls bouncing.
She’d worn her best clothes, even went through the extra effort of applying makeup for this. There was no way she was leaving empty-handed with nothing to show but time wasted that could have been spent trying to find a way to dig herself out of debt.
Maybe she should try a nicer approach, but she couldn’t help herself when he had that stupid smug smile on those stupid perfect lips. This was why she was single.
Ari suppressed an eye roll and leaned forward with both hands braced on his desk. “I would have thought the ever popular Mr. Draconis cared more for his consumers.”
A flicker of something crossed his otherwise composed features as his brow arched. Lightning shimmered through the partially open window behind him, etching sharp shadows across the planes of his stubbled jaw.
He dismissed her arguments silently, fully aware of the implication behind her emphasis on customer satisfaction. Ari clearly wasn’t interested in discussing her ‘enjoyment’ with the product, something that was none of his business.
“Ms. Ari,” his voice rumbled, “Let’s not play these games. A company has the right to understand customer satisfaction with a product. But since it seems someone’s pissed in your Cheerios, perhaps you’re right. You were unsatisfied by a mere toy.”
Ari’s tone had indeed been sharp, but not keen enough to slice through his steel composure. A sly smirk tugged at his lips, his gaze briefly dropped to her skirt before returning to her face.
“Let’s just say most customers understand the value of cooperation, Ms. Ari. They have families to support, bills to pay. That flush on your cheeks tells a different story, though. Maybe personal questions aren’t quite the hurdle you make them out to be…” Mr. Draconis tapped the pen against his desk rhythmically, a thoughtful habit, before pushing back and rising to his full height.
He strode toward the large windows, the cityscape sprawling beneath them. “Do you value your livelihood, Ms. Ari? Your place of business? Because I take threats to my company very seriously.”
Another fiery retort clawed its way up her throat, and his audacity regarding her living situation sent a fresh wave of anger crashing over her. But before the words could leave her, a single, choked ‘What?’ escaped her lips.
A flicker of lightning momentarily bathed the room in an eerie glow, his form a stark silhouette against the sudden illumination, making him look like some creature of the night stepping right out of some bad rom com movie.
As the light returned, dark gray eyes gleamed over his shoulder, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. “Let’s make a deal, love,” he rumbled, his voice a low caress that sent a shiver down her spine despite the simmering rage. “Perhaps then we can let bygones be bygones about those thinly veiled threats.”
His looks may have impressed thousands of women but Ari wouldn’t be so easily swayed when clearly there was something ugly hiding in the depths of those fathomless gray eyes. The same eyes she didn’t miss giving her a not-so-subtle once over. But she wasn’t a plum ready to be snatched from the vine. She had a lot at stake and she wouldn’t be swayed by petty insults.
When Ari was sixteen, she had left her tiny hometown where everyone knew everyone and there were no secrets. On a good day with decent weather, she could have walked from one end of the town to the other. Everyone there was content, but she had always wanted more for herself, so she set off for the big city to make a name for herself. Her little pottery shop was her pride and joy, with every piece handcrafted. But people weren’t interested in high-quality artisanal products; they preferred fast, easy, durable items. That’s why businesses like Mr. Draconis’ flourished, squeezing the life out of the mom-and-pop shops near and far.
Now he had the nerve to threaten that?
“You are the only one making threats. You’re delusional if you think I’d want to make any kind of commitment to you.” Ari folded her arms and turned away from him. “You should be begging for my forgiveness and pray I don’t raise the issue further. You, your company, and your product are all balls!”
A deep, guttural chuckle rumbled from his chest. “‘Threatening you?’ That, Ms. Ari, was a promise. You stormed into my office demanding a refund, yet we both know you left satisfied. That’s nothing short of fraud.”
In a huff, Ari turned to leave, but her shoe caught on the mat at the door, sending her crashing to the ground. The sound of fabric tearing was immediate, followed by a cool draft against her skin. She quickly covered her backside, preying he didn’t catch a glimpse. “Oh, come on! Even your shitty entry mats suck!”
At the snap of Mr. Draconis’s fingers, Mr. Jinnings promptly closed the door and guarded it, making Ari jump, thwarting any thoughts she might have had of leaving. What the hell kind of company was this? “This is no way to treat a lady!”
Mr. Draconis’s hands folded over one another while he shifted his gaze back toward the window, the reflection blurred and contorted by the beads of rain trailing down the glass. He’d been so silent that she could hear the water rushing over the roof, the wind whistling past the building’s structure.
“Get back on your knees and beg for my forgiveness,” Mr. Draconis commanded, his gray eyes boring into her from the haughty tilt of his aristocratic nose. “Then perhaps I’ll forgive your ignorant outbursts this evening.” His deep rumbling voice blended with the distant thunder muffled by the tempered glass separating them from the storm raging outside.
Ari frantically clutched the back of her skirt together, desperately trying to preserve some shred of modesty. The fabric was torn, leaving her bright yellow polka-dotted underwear for all to see. How had everything spiraled so disastrously out of control in mere moments?
It was crazy how the world carried on obliviously beyond the glass while tension thickened the air between them like static electricity. She could practically feel the charged atmosphere bristling against her skin. Goosebumps rose along her arms as she fought against the urge to wrap them protectively around herself. To make herself smaller and shrink from Mr. Draconis’s piercing, condemning glare.
“Ignorance is believing that you can hold me here without consequences,” Ari declared boldly. “This is unlawful and I demand that you open the doors. Now!”
The asshole didn’t so much as flinch at her demands.
The company’s personnel and their president were getting increasingly more creepy by the minute. She should have known that it would be considering their products were all centered around sex and people’s constant need for pleasure.
“I don’t think you understand, Ms. Ari. A man of my stature doesn’t strive for mere success by pandering to just a portion of his audience. Perfection is the unwavering goal. One I’ve maintained for ten years, until today.” Mr. Draconis spoke slowly, savoring each word as if relishing the weight it carried.
“I couldn’t care less if you were God,” a muscle twitched in his chiseled jaw. “If I can’t handle a customer with a smart mouth, I shouldn’t be running a company.”
Squaring her shoulders, Ari rose to her feet and took a few cautious steps backward, slowly weighing her limited options. Even if she somehow managed to muscle her way past Mr. Jinnings, then what? But she certainly wouldn’t know if she didn’t try.
Trembling fingers dipped into her bra cup to retrieve her cellphone. Ari brandished it at Mr. Jinnings as if it were a weapon. “I will not grovel like some sinner in church. Are you secretly some kinky priest?”
The threat was painfully hollow. She couldn’t really afford involving the authorities and having to explain why she had so recklessly barged into the building in the first place.
A tense silence stretched between them as she waited with bated breath. Please let this work, please. But Ari’s bold words seemed to amuse the imposing man more than intimidate him.
“A priest?” his steely eyes narrowed to slits as another glare from the cityscape cut across his chiseled features. Dark clouds loomed behind him from the large windows, and when he stepped forward and crossed the room, he seemed like he flew down from them; some fallen angel who’d descended from grace.
In the span of a heartbeat, Mr. Draconis closed the distance separating them. His large hand seized her wrist in an iron grip, fingers coiling around the delicate bones with a bruising force. The instant their skin met, an electric jolt sparked between them—unsettling yet not entirely painful—setting her nerves alight with energy.
Anger that had her hurling demands mere moments ago dissolved under the smoldering intensity of his gaze. Her free arm rose defensively to hide the humiliated blush blazing high on her cheekbones and the tips of her ears.
How had she gotten herself into such a mess? It wasn’t the first time her desperation and temper had gotten her into trouble.
Mr. Draconis leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “I’ve been many things in my life, but a priest is not amongst them. An angel aiding this community to find its footing, perhaps. Patient with those deserving of it. But also the devil incarnate to anyone I dislike,” his free hand gripped her chin, forcibly angling her widened eyes to meet his piercing stare. “Trust me, you don’t want to linger on my bad side.”
His grip on the tender underside of her jaw tightened, eliciting a gasp as he pulled her closer. “Let me enlighten you as to what would have happened had you called the police,” he growled, his voice dangerously low. “They would have marched through those doors, turning a blind eye to everything they saw here. Why? Because fear and money render most people blind and mute.”
A sinister smirk tugged at the corners of Mr. Draconis’s lips, his eyes glinting with an unspoken promise in the dim light. “Only a fool would dare try to swindle someone out of their league, and then neglect to apologize for the insult,” he continued, his tone laced with malice. “You want a new product? Fine. But don’t expect a refund. Remove that impudent comment from my website immediately, and all will be forgotten.”
His fingers dug cruelly into her wrist, twisting viciously before he released her abruptly. Turning on his heel, Mr. Draconis strode back to his leather chair, lowering himself into it silently. Across the room, his eyes narrowed as he watched her, her cell phone held carelessly aloft in an insolent taunt. The unspoken challenge lingered between them: what will you do now?
Ari’s slender fingers curled into fists against the cool material of her skirt. Though her head dipped from the weight of his scorn, Ari still held his gaze, peering up at him from beneath dark lashes.
If even the authorities were no threat to a man like Mr. Draconis Draconis, she had little choice but to comply with his demands. Being physically forced to her knees made her feel lessened, as though he aimed to remind her of her place beneath him. He was lucky she couldn’t stand without risking her backside being exposed.
“Look, Mr. Draconis’,” Ari began, struggling to swallow her pride along with the bitter taste of humiliation burning her throat. “I’m sorry you feel like I’m trying to swindle you. I just..I really need this. A new product can’t help me.”
Well it might have helped her forget about her sinking business for a few blissful hours but that was all. “I need the money. Can’t you make an exception this time since I’ve come so far? It won’t happen again and I’ll even take down the review.” Even though she muttered something about her only access being the phone he’d so rudely snatched away from her.
Clearly fame and wealth had spoiled him. He was someone who thought they could do whatever they wanted to whoever they wanted and get away with it.
Wait, wasn’t that what he was doing now? Ari shook her head and tried to smile, scattering the freckles on her face and deepening those lovely dimples of hers. “I’ll even listen to your proposal if you’d so kindly remove your guard there from the door.”
Despite her bold words, Ari was keenly conscious of the power imbalance between them as Mr. Draconis openly drank in the sight of her kneeling form. However, even from her compromised position on the floor, she didn’t grasp that she wasn’t the one calling the shots here.
Gone was the earlier amusement in his piercing gaze as he leveled that intense stare upon her once more. Something far more primal, more ravenous smoldered in those cloudy gray depths now—a blazing hunger that rivaled the ferocity of the storm raging beyond the windows at his back.
“My assistant will remain stationed by the door. That’s rule number one. Number two,” He leaned forward, his stomach pressing against the desk’s edge. “I thought you weren’t one to beg. I presumed you’d leave with your pride intact, shining as brightly as the moment you walked in.” He shrugged. “Guess I was wrong. Mr. Jinning’s, stand aside and allow her to leave.”
After his sudden change in plan and mood, Mr. Jennings obeyed, stepping away from the door.
“Go on then. I’ll overlook this transgression. Ensure that comment is deleted and return when you can properly beg. You clearly know my whereabouts. Is there anything else required before you’re escorted out?”
Ari couldn’t believe him. He was calm one moment and then insulting the next. Like hell she would be toyed with by some freaky rich guy who was nothing more than a misogynistic pig. She did not come all the way across the city to be denied, insulted, and made to beg. Now, she was openly frowning in disdain from such callousness. Most people would at least care enough to inquire why or cut her some slack.
But what did he mean by ‘return when you can actually beg properly’?
There had been a time in her life when she’d actually admired him. His story was nothing short of inspirational, a major reason why she’d decided to try her hand at opening her own store. And where had that gotten her? No. She would not accept that.
Suddenly she stood, heedless of her ruined attire—one of the only nice outfits she owned—and stormed right back over to his desk. She fought to get there, and she would not be denied so easily when everything was riding on her ability to scrounge up funds. Ari’s hand slammed onto the desk before she leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart.
“You listen to me, you freaky asshole. I was trying to be nice! Do you think you can just bully me into dropping the issue and then insult me after you’ve very clearly done some sketchy shit?!” She reached out and snatched her phone from his hands.
“You can give me my money back, or I’ll leave the way I came. Not only have you disregarded my voice as a consumer but you’ve also insulted me, threatened me, and tried to blackmail me.” Her golden brown hair was a mess from the frenzied movements; a single index finger poking him in the chest. “Quite frankly, I don’t want your product or to ever have to see your face again. So yes I do need something.”
“I’m not giving you anything,” he laughed incredulously. “You want money? Go find a better job than your shitty shop. Or, you can find the nearest corner to go trick yourself at. Maybe then that anger of yours will be under control.”
There was a moment of suspense where everything went quiet. Even the churning storm outside seemed to lull, as if in anticipation of what might happen next. The city painted a beautiful backdrop to the odd scene unfolding.
Ari’s hand drew back and she slapped the man so hard her own palm stung, wiping the smirk off his face. “Get your head out of your ass!” With her phone back in her possession, she turned on her heel, stomping off to the door and past his secretary. “I expect my refund in full, Mr. Draconis, or you will be hearing from me again!”
Mr. Draconis wiggled his jaw, another dark laugh slipping past his lips as he raised his hand to halt Mr. Jinnings’ attempt to grab Ari by the back of her neck. Instead of the anger one would expect, he followed up with, “I’ll see you soon, Miss Ari, very soon.”
He wondered, if she had known who he was, would she still be in his face trying to take the upper hand when she was at the bottom of the food chain?
