Mark ordered me to meet him in his office in the same clothes, so I am standing in front of his study room debating if I should run away or knock. For better security, I let my hair down to cover this dress.
He didn't like the dress.
“I know this frame of the door is beautiful but you don't have to stare at it.” He opened the door and gave me a furious look. Despite his frustration, he moved aside to gave me space to come inside his office.
When I heard him locking the door, my heart almost exploded. I know that he knows what the Rossi brothers made me do.
Is he going to force me?
He took his time to reach and settle himself on the desk but every time, I could feel his eyes on me. I wanted to know the reason of my presences in his house.
“Look at me.” He ordered me and I obeyed him. But I didn't dare to move from my spot. I stood like a child who was about to get scolding from an adult.
“How old are you?” He asked me.
Why he is so interested? I thought.
“Because I am bored and you are my entertainment.” He shrugged off.
Did I say loud? I questioned myself.
“Yes, you did.” He took off his blazer and dropped it on the floor while staring at me with his piercing hazel eyes.
“My age is not a matter of concern.” I tried to stay as calm as possible.
“Sit on my lap.” He more or less command me.
“I am sorry.” I was stunned.
“You won't be sorry, ELIZABETH.” He smirked.
It took a while to process the actual meaning of his words. He thinks I am a prostitute. He bought me to be his mistress. I was furious now. I never choose that life. I never choose any of it. I was forced still I accepted my kids with all the love I could offer them in spite of who fathered them yet people like him though so low of me.
Prostitution is not bad actually it's a hard job to satisfy anyone's sexual need, just I never thought I would be the one among them.
Sometimes I think, maybe I would have accepted what life threw at me, forcefully, if they wouldn't take away my kids, but life was never fair with me.
I took my slow steps backwards, intending to reach the door to leave this suffocating room. When I felt that I hit the door, I tried to open it.
Throughout this process, I didn't move my eyes out of him. He sat there on his desk comfortably and looked amused by my action.
“I don't want to be here.” Somehow I managed to say.
He showed me a key and put inside his pocket of a trouser. “Not everything could be served. Take it.” He pulled the sleeves of his shirt up.
My wisdom was stopping me. The presence of this man suffocates me to the death, but I am known to be a not so wise decision-maker, so again against my wisdom, I took my steps towards him and stretched my hand for the key. But what he did left my heart throbbing.
He pulled me in between his legs and held me tight around my waist. I struggled because I knew what happens when men hold my waist.
“Submission doesn't mean that you are giving up. Sometimes submission is a must part of a plan. Stop fighting and start thinking.” He whispered on my ears that left me shivering.
He chuckled darkly over my reaction and let go of me. The look on his face suggested that he's satisfied with his work.
“Let me ask again. How old are you?” Again he asked me that same question. This oldie is so stubborn. How will I answer the question when I am not aware of how many years has passed by? “Want to know about yourself?” He showed me a black coloured file that has my name written on it.
I stood at my place, frozen. He knows about me. My past. My present. My life. But he doesn't know what I felt. No one knows. This file will never be able to describe that. My pain.
When he understood that I know about myself and this file will never describe any of me. He placed my file on the desk and handed me forcefully another file.
“These are my daughters schedule. You will help Jennifer. But you'll live with us, in this house. You can take a day off anytime, you want. But no compromise with the needs of my both daughters. Once Sylvia is old enough to let you go, you can live anywhere you want. Assistance will be able.” He said in professional tone.
His words left me speechless. I can leave. He will help me. My life can be normal. I can go anywhere. He will help me.
“You will help me?” It was unbelievable. He nodded. “Why?” I asked.
“I pity you.”