Fractured

There is only one thing on my mind as the car comes to a halt outside of the old man's mansion.

Murder.

Perhaps it isn't particularly aimed at the old man himself, nor would I ever commit such a heinous act. But it has definitely crossed my mind, maybe one too many times. Some days I even question what would happen if I actually had the tools to follow through. Luckily today, I arrive at the house, bearing nothing but the clothes on my back and the cheap purse I bought from target on sale.

I'm wearing my nicest dress, a black sack that looks as if I found it on sale at Macy's, and have my hair braided into a crown upon my head. I look professionally horrid. But the men like that. They like it when I look respectable and proper. I think it makes them feel a little more important. As if my appearance somehow heightens their ego. They like to think that I am a pretty possession they cane wear on their shoulder and peace around.

Of course I never put a fight. Why would I? This is a business transaction after all.

I thank the driver as I step out of the sleek black car and straighten the dress before taking in a deep breath and beginning the walk to the front door. The car already cleared the numerous security checks it takes to get into the mans property, but I'm still surprised when a man clad in a black suit steps out the door before I even have a chance to knock, and asks for my ID.

I give it to him, and he stares at it for a solid twenty seconds before handing it back to me and giving a small smile. "Sorry for all the security, you know how he can be."

"Fucking paranoid," I chuckle before embracing Ronan in a hug. "It's good to see you're still keeping up with security. Though, I'm saddened that you needed to look at my ID for as long as you did."

Ronan pushes me and I stumble back while trying to hide my laugh behind my hand. "I just wanted to get a good look at your face, before you become wrinkled like a prune after tonight. Hanging with old people is scientifically proven to age you at least thirty years."

"Yeah, that sounds totally legit," I scoff. "Though hopefully at tonight's ball, it wont just be old timers. I actually heard that there may be some important people attending. Maybe even some people my age."

He rolls his eyes before pushing the door open for me to enter. "Sometimes I wonder how the hell you do what you do."

"We aren't too different you and I," I state. "You protect the rich, I just suck them off. Same thing."

He rolls his eyes.

"Hey! It pays the bills."

"Whatever you say."

I swerve past him and ignore his downer attitude. I prefer to keep things chirpy, mainly because if I don't, I might just find myself reaching for the closest knife.

I met Ronan when I first started meeting with Mr. Black. We didn't particularly get along at first, but after a while we warmed. I like to think he thinks I'm a friend. The line of business I'm in, I can't really afford to have many, so it's nice to be able to talk to someone who knows what it's like. Even if I only see Ronan when I'm coming to service his boss.

"Mr. Black is waiting for you in his office."

"Thanks," I salute him as I head in the direction of the staircase. "Wish me luck."

He shakes his head, smiling as he returns down another hallway.

Mr. Black's home is absurdly large. Riddled with doors and hallways everywhere you turn, it's basically a maze. Over the three months I've had him as a client, I still can barely find his office, let alone his bedroom. But it hardly matters when I'm in and out within a few hours. Unlike today. Tonight I am attending a ball at his side as he doesn't want his daughter attending with him.

Of course when he first mentioned it, I immediately said no. There was no way I was going to prance around a ball pretending to be his daughter when we both new the things I did for him behind closed doors. But after he upped the price almost ten-fold, I wasn't able to say no. For some reason, Mr. Black is desperate that I attend tonight. And while that may slightly concern me, it also intrigues me too much to pass up. The pay is also a bonus.

Coming up to his office door, I lightly knock and wait for his approval before entering.

"Come in." His deep voice rumbles from the other side.

I enter the room, with my eyes turned down. Just how he likes it. I make sure to appear small and submissive as I close the door and walk towards him. He's seated at his desk as far as I'm aware, and I can smell his musk from here. It's a combination of tobacco and scotch. While it's not unpleasant, it's not the nicest either.

I stop beside his desk, awaiting instruction.

"You may sit." His hand gestures out to the chair opposite him. I try not to sigh in relief. He normally makes me kneel, which kills my knees. My colleagues at the bakery are always questioning my bruises. I tell them it's bruise easily, which is true, but also sounds like a load of bullshit.

"I've had a gown ordered for you. It's in my room along with shoes." He states.

I nod my head.

"Tonight you must be on your best behaviour. There will be a lot of important people, and I can't have anyone suspecting anything."

I can't help but wonder why he doesn't want his actual daughter attending. It makes me wonder exactly what Mr. Black intends to do with me tonight.

"You may look up at me." He suggests. Even though everything that comes out of this mans mouth is an order.

I once again do as he says, and look up. Mr. Black is old, though that's not to say he's bad looking. It's quite the contrary. He's in his late forties, maybe early fifties, wearing a black suit and tie, as if he's just come from the office. With greying hair that is combed back neatly and a strong jaw with piercing grey eyes, he's conventionally attractive. It makes my job a lot easier when they look pleasant. Plus he's pretty good in bed. The older men always are. Though it doesn't mean I want to murder them any less.

"Amy, you must promise me that you wont leave my side or talk to anyone without my permission. Can you do that?"

I don't blink or let my face betray any emotion, even if I am feeling slightly regretful of accepting this job. "Of course, Mr. Black."

"Good." He gives me a smile with his white teeth. "Such a good girl." I fight the need to vomit at his words. While I'd love to hear them coming from someone I love, hearing them from him is icky.

I smile anyway.

Mr. Black leans back in his chair and nods his head. "Be ready in thirty minutes, we'll be leaving then. You may leave."

"Yes, sir."

I stand and turn, ready to leave. But he quickly interrupts me. "Oh and Amy,"

"Yes, Mr. Black?"

"No panties." He smirks.

Yeah, murder is definitely on my mind.