“But Sir, you have these women trained down to the last detail of perfection.”
“That is true William. I have them trained, some for me—some for other Masters.”
A Sadistic smile appeared on Richard’s countenance as he spoke. “It is very rare to find a woman of this caliber; a thin line between being a ‘suit’ and a ‘brat,’ if you will. Mix slut into the equation and things get real fucking interesting, my slut—that is.
She is smart, sexy, self sufficient and mine, no more needs to be said on the matter. You may depart William, thank you.”
William knew his Boss well enough to know that he would not be divulging any more information. He rose and gave a slight bow, exiting the room.
Ophelia
I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. It was now or never. I eyed the man that answered the door and wondered if he was who had hired me.
It was evident that he was of European descent. He was dressed in attire as if he were an Equestrian. He donned a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, grey riding pants and high black boots. He had long grey hair that he had tied back. The most striking thing was his eyes, piercing, cut through you, ice cold blue eyes. He had the appearance of some age on him; but it only served to enhance his good looks and authoritative demeanor. Oddly enough, he was not my type at all.
“Follow me,” was all that he said as he led me through the opulent foyer and into a very impressive office.
The walls were lined with bookshelves and the décor was definitely that of the male species.
The walls were painted beige; with a chocolate trim. A huge antique desk sat in front of a large window that overlooked the perfectly manicured lawn.
The office was decorated with nothing but the finest of antiques and collectables.
When I entered, there was a man behind the desk, but his leather office chair was turned towards the window.
A rich and authoritative voice was directed towards me. “Sit, please.”
I could feel my heart race, this was nothing like the feeling that I had with the man who answered the door. I felt confident and in control with him, but this man was throwing me off of my game, and I had not even viewed his visage as of yet.
I sat and resisted the temptation to squirm, waiting for him to say something. Finally………..he spoke.
“Do you know who I am?”
“I haven’t seen you; how could I possibly know you?”
I chuckled as I listened to her response. Even though I had put her on edge, she was still pressing through it.
“Your name is not ‘Olivia,’ your name is ‘Ophelia’ and when you are in my presence, you shall be referred to as such.”
“I hate that name,” I hissed. It is the reason that I never use it. (It was my birth name)
I turned my chair for the first time, viewing my new toy.
I gasped, as he turned looking at me. I mean—that I literally gasped.
The man that I viewed was dark and dangerous. His coal black hair and cold black piercing eyes were challenging me.
He donned a beige suit with a black button up shirt, complete with cufflinks and a printed tie. His hair was jet black and cut in layers. He was large and none of it appeared to be fat; only thick, solid muscle. He looked like a rich business man or an Italian mobster.
He was spit polished from top to bottom, as were all things that pertained to the mansion.
He interlocked his fingers behind his neck, as if preparing for a response. He stared, just stared.
I met his gaze for as long as I could and then looked down fiddling with my fingers. Why did I feel like I was in the Principal’s office being reprimanded?
“Ophelia, you work for me now.”
“I work for the Magazine,” I countered, with a sudden surge of courage.
“I own the magazine, Ophelia,” he calmly stated.
My mouth literally fell open.
“Close your mouth Ophelia, before something flies in.”
“Excuse me,” I stuttered, not believing that he had said something that I dreamed the night before.
“Close….Your…..Mouth…….Before something ……..Flies in…….”
He drew the words out, as if he was speaking to a child.
I shook my head, trying to process how I could have dreamed this. Suddenly, my face and neck flushed a crimson glow as I thought of his assault on my body; the assault that my dream lover had performed on me the night before.
“Are you nervous, Ophelia?” He chuckled, but it was more of a sadistic laugh.
“I don’t think that I am the person to conduct this interview.”
I rose to leave and his voice cut through the air: “Sit, Ophelia!”
I sat more out of fear—than obedience.