Knock! Knock!
Diane waited. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the frantic thumping of her own heart. No response came. She checked her watch; five minutes ticked by like hours. Swallowing hard, she knocked again, her hand shaking.
"Come in!" a voice called out.
Diane froze. "Wait, what? That's the voice of a lady," she thought. A flicker of confusion crossed her face, but she pushed through the hesitation.
She pushed the heavy door open, and her cheap heels stepped onto a floor of luxurious marble, veined with gold that caught the afternoon sun. Her eyes immediately darted to the center of the room, landing on a woman with a sleek, beautiful face and an air of effortless arrogance.
The woman, Lara, was leaning over a massive desk, her hands rhythmically kneading the shoulders of a man buried in a high-backed leather chair.
"Honey, you invited her?" Lara asked, her voice dripping with a mix of boredom and territoriality.
She didn't stop the massage; she seemed to delight in the fact that Charles was currently "drowned" in the sweetness of her touch.
Charles reacted instantly. He sat upright, rephrasing his posture and smoothing his silk tie as he spun the chair around.
The golden chair seemed to frame him like a throne. "Oh, yes, Lara. She's a new worker. I need to have a word with her regarding her duties. Do you mind giving us a few minutes?"
Lara offered a thin, feline smile. "All fine," she said, straightening her flay gown.
She gathered her things and headed for the door, the fabric of her dress swinging rhythmically with the sharp, rhythmic clack-clack of her Zara high heels. She didn't look back at Diane, treating her as little more than a piece of office furniture.
The silence that followed was suffocating. For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Charles simply stared at her—a wild, tensing gaze that felt like a physical weight. Diane's mind raced, trying to find a footing in the shifting sand of his silence. Finally, unable to bear the tension, she broke it."Hi, sir," she whispered.
Charles leaned back, a dark smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I see. You've got quite a bit of courage, wanting to speak first. Let's have it then. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Sir, I was just... I wanted to introduce myself and ask about the training.
"Oh, shut up, miss," he snapped, his voice turning cold. "You shouldn't try to ruin my mood this sweet afternoon, or you will live to regret it for as long as you live. Now, tell me. Your name?"
"Diane," she answered, her body beginning to shiver inaudibly.
"Diane?" Charles repeated the name as if tasting it. "Oh, wow. That reminds me of an old school classmate from way back.
So, Miss Diane, what school did you attend? Or did you not even have the privilege of an education?"
The insult stung, but Diane kept her voice steady. "I did, sir. I attended Nord Anglia."
Charles's eyes widened, a predatory light gleaming in them. "My Good God, you did? I mean, I did too.
Now tell me, Diane... do I look familiar to you?"
Diane looked at him—really looked at him. He was handsome, in a sharp, lethal way, but the face didn't register in her memories of crowded hallways and textbooks. "With all sincerity, sir, I can't remember knowing you from anywhere.
Charles leaned forward, his shadow stretching across the golden floor. "Diane what?" he asked, his voice dropped to a whisper.
"Diane Lucien, sir," she answered. Inside, she was praying. She didn't want a history with this man.
She didn't want a "connection." All she wanted was to be a faceless employee, to work her hours, get her paycheck, and disappear into the New York crowds to save her family.
"Oh, what a world!" Charles laughed, but there was no humor in it. "The smart, gentle, and beautiful Diane Lucien. I knew it. You truly don't remember me, Charles Bennet?"
Diane searched her mind, the name suddenly clicking into a specific, painful memory. "Charles Bennet?"
"Yes," he said, his voice hardening. "The Charles Bennet that once asked you out in front of the whole school. The one you declined right in front of all my niggas. Everyone made a scorn of me for weeks because of you. What a small, pathetic world this is'.
The memory hit her like a physical blow. She remembered the boy—lanky, awkward, and far too arrogant even then. "Yes... now I remember. S-sir, I am so sorry for how I treated you. I was young... I was just being my age."
"Maybe," Charles said, standing up and walking around the desk until he was inches from her. "But now you're all grown up. And I'm asking you again, right here, right now. Will you be my woman, Diane?"
The room seemed to shrink. Diane opened her mouth to say no, the word hovering on the tip of her tongue, but her throat seized. If she walked out, she lost the job. If she lost the job, she would be handed over to Ben like a piece of property to satisfy her father's debt. To her, Ben was a tomb; Charles was a cage.
"But sir," she stammered, thinking of the woman who had just left. "The lady... Lara. Isn't she your mistress?"
Charles shrugged dismissively. "She is. Is there a problem with that? I believe I am a trophy, Diane. Any girl that wins me, stays with me. There is plenty of room."
The casual cruelty of his statement gave Diane a sudden, unexpected jolt of adrenaline. The fear was still there, but it was being overtaken by a desperate need for dignity.
"No, sir," she said, her voice vibrating with a new strength. "I wouldn't do that. All I beg is for you to let me work here in your company. I don't want to be in a competition with another woman over a man. I beg of you, just let me do my job."
Charles's face contorted into a mask of cold fury. He stepped even closer, his breath hot against her ear.
"Oh, well," he hissed. "You have two choices, Diane. You either become my woman, or I hire you—and I make this company, and every hour you spend in it, a living hell for you.
She made to leave but Charles called her back.
"Wait a damn minute, Diane," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "So, if I had a group of people standing right here, right now, would you have turned me down again? Would you have humiliated me in front of everyo
ne just like you did back in high school? Really? After everything I've become?"