Overworked

by Dark Angel

  I sigh and go to the closet. I pull on my navy blue scoop neck dress and tuck my hair into a bun.

  My reflection is pale, with an unhappy pallor against my naturally light complexion. My mother says I should get some sun, but the last time I tired that I ended up looking like a cooked lobster.

  I quickly apply lipstick and mascara and slip on my blue ballet flats. I ignore the nude heels my mother left out for me and head into the living room.

  My mother and Edward are already seated. Edward made himself comfortable in my father's favorite chair.

  “Hello, Lily, honey,” he says to me in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I know to Edward I am nothing more than an obstacle to seven million dollars.

  “Hello, Edward.” I keep my voice calm though inside, I feel all the ways I wish I could fight this pressing up against the knowledge that I know that I can’t.

  “I assume you're ready to sign,” Edward states, not questions. His words are so matter-of-fact, even though this is my life and my memories he wants to cash in on.

  “Do I have a choice?” I find him so despicable in this moment, and I wish he could care less about money and more about the fact that he’s hurting me. If he’s going to smile at me and call me ‘honey’ it just angers me. I despise lying. I despise anyone with no concern for their fellow human beings. But my anger will get me nowhere, so I sit down on the couch next to my mother.

  “No,” my mother says coldly, “you don't.” That’s how she sees this. Decided, regardless of what I want. There’s no point in appealing to her as someone who is supposed to care about how I feel.

  The doorbell rings, and Edward jumps up, saying, “that must be Mr. King.”

  “He's coming here?” I ask, my breath catching in my throat. My mother didn’t say anything about me having to give my approval in person. I just thought I would sign some papers and have to sit through the stupid celebration dinner I knew my mother and Edward would insist on having. Now I’m realizing why she was so insistent on me getting ready. I gulp.

  “Yes,” Edward says, “he was quite insistent on meeting you.” He opens the door.

  I’m not prepared to be in the same room as this man. I take a deep breath and silently pray that he’d just sent his lawyer. Surely a man like Sebastian King has better things to do than this?

  My prayers go unanswered. Sebastian is standing in the doorway that Edward is holding open. He’s dressed casually in a black turtleneck and gray slacks. A long black coat hangs elegantly from his six foot four frame. His eyes are still the same captivating gray I remember when I think about him, at night when I can’t push the thoughts away and I think about how those eyes felt on my body.

  “Hello, Lily. It's good to see you again.” His deep baritone washes over me like black silk I imagine sweeping over my skin. I’m so taken with the idea of him and his presence that I can’t stop building in extra little fantasies about his every movement.

  Sebastian extends his hand to me.

  My hand trembles slightly as I shake his, because the idea of touching him is just exhilarating. I can’t hold back my reaction to the prospect of taking his hand. It is frightening and arousing and confusing all at once. Sebastian's commanding presence fills up the room. I swallow. Suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe because Sebastian is looking at me, if possible, more intensely than he did when we first met. I take his hand and fireworks shoot through my nerves and tingle me from my hand and down my spine. I have an electric attraction to him that makes my heart race and I can’t focus on anything.

  “You've met Lily before?” My mother sounds as shocked as Edward looked.

  “Briefly, but I assure you she made quite the impression.” Sebastian gazes directly at me as he speaks.

  I feel my cheeks heat and I look away, but I can still feel Sebastian's eyes on me. He releases my hand and I want to take his back, even though that would be silly.

  “Lily, I assume Edward has informed you that the sale of your father's building is contingent on your approval.”

  I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

  “But there’s something else. I'd also like you to come work for me.”

  “Work for you?” I blurt out, shocked. I don't know what Sebastian thought I studied in college I didn’t major in business. “I don't know anything about the real estate industry,” I speak up, too freaked out right now imagining him as my boss and thinking about how much that makes my panties wet. I am too anxious to keep my mouth closed because the idea turns me on so much I can’t stand it.

  “Well,” Sebastian is practically purring now and my eyes are burning into the ground. I am desperate to look up at him as he continues. “I was thinking more of a personal assistant position.”

  “Oh Lily what a wonderful opportunity,” my mother gushes. “That's so generous of you Mr. King.”

  “Yes it is,” Edward agrees. “Very generous.”

  “Why me?” I ask, still stupefied by his presence and by his request. I look up at him now.

  Sebastian smiles, and raises a brow. I feel like he’s pleased by me looking at him now. Maybe even how nervous I am. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill,” he says, and that statement feels anything but innocuous like it would seem.

  “What would I be doing exactly?” I ask, daring to keep eye contact with him. I don’t know why I’m asking these questions. Or do I? I can’t decide if I’m being level-headed or what right now, and my head is spinning, imagining touching his arm and telling him he’s got a phone call or some demure secretary activity. God, this is the man who is putting a price tag on my future and my family memories, and all I can think about is how wet my panties get at the thought of him.

  “Keeping track of my schedule. Screening my calls. Making travel arrangements, whatever I desire. You'd be at my beck and call twenty-four hours a day. It's a demanding position but the perks are great. And of course you could stay in this apartment,” Sebastian says, stopping at this important point in what he’s said.

  Maybe this is a chance to stay connected to my father. Maybe I can still help the people who live here. I pull myself from my thoughts and focus my gaze on Sebastian again. “Okay, umm, yes.” I wish I could have acquiesced with some grace, but that’s all the words my lips would form.

  Sebastian smiles, and he looks pleased. “My office, Monday, at nine. Don't be late. Ed, I'll have the contracts sent over to your office,” Sebastian says, never taking his eyes off of me as he tells me those details, directs Edward, and then walks right out the door. He doesn’t wait for a reply, and his eyes only left mine when Edward, following him out, blocked Sebastian’s view.

  “I saw the way you were looking at him, Lily,” my mother says as soon as the men have left the room.

  “Excuse me? I wasn’t looking at him any special way.”

  “Lily, I’m not stupid and neither is Sebastian. It’s written all over your face.”

  I feel my cheeks heat all over again.

  “Honey, god knows he’s handsome, but Sebastian King is a little old for you, don’t you think?”

  “He’s only thirty-nine,” I say. And I know this is not perhaps the most appropriate response, but it is the logical one, and I’m still kind of stunned by all the filthy fantasies that are playing out in my head.

  “And you’re twenty-one. Not that it matters because a man like that is out of your league,” my mom says, shaking her head.

  “Well, that went well,” Edward says as he walks inside and interrupts this oh so pleasant conversation I’m having with my mother. Edward is practically glowing. He can’t wait to get his hands on that money. “And you’ve got a new job Lily,” he says, looking at me. “So where should we go for dinner?” Edward asks, as though my opinion actually matters now.

  “I'm not going to dinner,” I say quickly, wanting to be away from them both. “I’m tired.”

  “Oh, well, then it’s just the two of us, Jennifer,” Edward says, smiling at my mother. He doesn’t even pretend t
o care that I’m not going, because my opinion and presence already served their purpose tonight.

  I don’t let it bother me. I don’t give any of that another thought, because two things are taking up the frequencies in my brainwaves. I am going to get to stay in my home and tomorrow I see Sebastian again.

  I try to enjoy these facts and to not let my mother’s words bother me. Surely I wasn’t acting so obviously attracted to him, because I know it’s hopeless and I don’t want Sebastian to think I’m silly. Still, I wonder what Sebastian really does want. Tomorrow, I will have to find out.

  Sebastian

  “Stop here, Max.”

  My driver pulls the black Mercedes Maybach sedan to a stop in front of a nondescript brownstone.

  I step out of the car and look across the street at what will be my newest acquisition. It’s a three-story brownstone situated in the middle of the block.

  Four or five families live here, including the owner, Jonathan Ryder. He is known to be stubborn but I'll see how stubborn he is when I offer him 7 million dollars. It’s probably more money than a man like him has ever seen.

  I’ve done my homework; Ryder had decades left on his mortgage. He'll probably finish paying for the building just in time to drop dead…if he lasts that long.

  The neighborhood is changing and soon none of the people living here will be able to afford it. Of course, they will say that they are going to stay here forever. They will try to ignore the signs of change and then they’ll have to pay the price, because they can’t pay the price.

  I've seen it happen a million times.

  I’ve built my empire on seeing what others chose to ignore. Some people say I’m cold, calculating, even cruel. Those people are naive.

  You move first or you are crushed by the shift.

  I have zero sympathy for people who don’t move out of the path of their own destruction.

  I've seen firsthand what happens when you cling to noble ideals in the face of cold reality.

  I walk up the stone steps and ring the bell. When Jonathan Ryder answers the door, it’s exactly what I expect. He looks at least a decade older than me even though he is only five years older than me. That's what happens when you kill yourself working for someone else's dream.

  I follow him into the modest apartment he shares with his wife and daughter. I introduce myself, “Sebastian King,” with a congenial smile.

  He looks over my Brioni suit for about two solid seconds before he shakes himself from the stupor it rendered and invites me in.

  “Jonathan Ryder. May I offer you a seat?” he asks, indicating an overstuffed brown couch that has definitely seen better days, before seating himself in a worn leather armchair. I look around the living room to take inventory of Ryder's life. Everything in the place looks worn and repaired. Clearly Ryder wasn’t the type to spend as he couldn't afford to be.

  I don't see any reason to beat around the bush; I cut right to the chase. “I want to buy this building,” I say, watching Ryder closely.

  “It's not for sale,” he says.

  His reaction is not unexpected.

  “I’m not sure who told you that it–”

  “Seven million,” I say, cutting him off. So many more things are for sale when millions are on the table.

  “Excuse me?” Ryder says slowly.

  “I'll give you seven million for it.” I walk around the room, giving him a chance to consider just how much money is on the table. “It's a very generous offer. You can’t really afford to keep this building. I know property taxes are rising in the area, but you haven't raised rent on your tenants in five years. Rents have tripled everywhere else in the neighborhood.”

  “Thanks to men like you,” he says with a voice filled with self-righteousness, and is clearly rankled that I’ve done my due diligence.

  I raise an eyebrow but don’t rise to the bait. “Business is business,” I say simply. I look over at the photos on the mantle and she catches my eye, a beautiful young girl in a photo that makes me forget everything for just a moment.

  You don’t care about this building, do you, angel? I care about it for the investment. But then I see her – and you and I both know why I’m telling this story the instant I take in the sight of the girl in the photograph.

  “I’m sorry Mr. King but the answer is no.”

  Normally I don’t do ‘no,’ but I barely hear Jonathan Ryder’s refusal. Besides it was ultimately meaningless. My request to purchase the brownstone was merely a courtesy. When I’m ready, I’ll take it.

  Something much more interesting has caught my attention in that photograph. Something else I’ll take. This photo, it is a portrait of his daughter. She is beautiful in a way I’ve never seen before, and I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women, of course. She’s got creamy skin begging to be touched, long dark hair that would feel like silk wrapped around my fingers, but that isn’t what distracts me. Beautiful women throw themselves at me every day. I’ve fucked supermodels and socialites and every hot piece of ass that’s thrown herself at me that I gave a thought. Beauty can be bought, but this girl has something else in her eyes.

  I haven’t seen eyes like hers in a long time.

  Innocent eyes.

  Now won’t it taste delicious when I destroy that innocence? I can taste it already, and I want to get a real taste of her sweet everything.

  Innocence is hard to come by, and in the circles I travel in, it’s my drug of choice. That girl looks like she’ll be one hell of a high. She looks untouched…and her father has just thrown her future away before she could actually enjoy any of it. Because she won’t have much of a future if her father doesn’t accept my offer.

  I look at the man sitting across from me; he’s actually turning down the seven million dollars I’ve offered for his brownstone. Some people would say he was noble, but all I see is a fool.

  Most people wouldn’t have turned their nose up at seven million dollars. I certainly wouldn’t have if I was in his shoes. And I don’t just mean that in that whole cliched way, his actual shoes are falling apart. I’ve got more pairs of fine leather shoes in one of my closets than this whole room has square feet. But Jonathan Ryder is an average man with a wife and a daughter. He should be jumping at the chance to build a more secure future for his family, but instead he is rambling on about growing up in the neighborhood and keeping it affordable and other things I’m not listening to.

  I want to laugh. In a few years, there will be no way he can afford to keep this building, and then what would he do to provide for his family? Of course, he has no way of knowing exactly what is coming. Time and knowledge are on my side. I own half the block already through a series of dummy corporations that serve to keep anyone who thinks of themselves as my competitor from knowing I’m taking the whole area. I’ll be back in a year and I’ll pay a lot less.

  I know what happens to men like Jonathan Ryder. They always end up broke. They always learn too late that morals and ideals don’t pay the bills. They always lose to men like me. They will never be kings, and that’s not just a joke because of my name. But angel, I think you already know there are no men like me. Men who are willing to do anything it takes to get whatever they want. Men like Ryder can barely survive, and I thrive.

  “Don’t be sorry, Mr. Ryder. The game’s not over.” I smile.

  “That’s the difference between you and I, King. It’s not a game to me. I grew up in this building. I was proud to buy it and one day it will be my daughter’s.”

  He is right; there is a difference between us. It isn’t the one he thinks it is. He thinks I don’t know what it was like to struggle and to be hungry. He has no idea what I’ve known and what I’ve done. Everything I have, I’ve taken with sweat and blood. I’ve built an empire on the ruined dreams of men like Jonathan Ryder.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Ryder.” I turn to go, but as I pull open the door, she’s fumbling through her oversized black bag.

  Miss Ryder looks up at me, momentary shock cross
ing her face before she speaks.

  “Umm, hello.” Her voice is as sweet as her face.

  I offer my hand, introducing myself. “Hello, I’m Sebastian King.”

  “It’s okay,” Jonathan interjects hurriedly. “honey, we’re just finishing up.” Ryder turns to me with a pointed look “Mr. King, this is my daughter, Lily.”

  Oh, Ryder says this like it will appeal to some moral sense in me to see his family and to prevent whatever atrocity he thinks I’m committing against them. The money would help sweet Lily, someone I don’t have any moral thoughts about when I see her. Quite the opposite. I see Lily and I don’t have a clean thought running through my entire being. Seeing her outside of a photograph only makes her enrapture me further. I know I have to have her.

  “Hello, Lily,” I say, offering my hand to the living version of the picture that fascinated me.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. King.”

  I smile at the blush that colors her cheeks as she takes my hand. I guess she is about nineteen or twenty. So young. So perfect. So very innocent. She has all that gorgeous long brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail. I want to pull it until her neck is stretched back into a lovely curve that’s exposed to my lips and teeth and tongue, the first things I want to claim her with.

  And those eyes, they still captivate me, but something else is there that wasn’t in the picture. Secrets behind the innocence.

  I wonder what kind of secrets a girl like Lily could have. I want her spread out beneath me and her darkest fantasies spilled from her lips before I slide my cock between them.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t think it was nice if you knew why I was here,” I say, unable to keep the growl out of my voice as I hold her hand a moment too long. She’s my prey, and I like letting her know that I’m her predator.

  Lily pulls away her hand. Her eyes dart to her father. “Why…what do you want?” There was the tiniest tremor in her voice. I wanted to hear that voice crying out my name when she was a quivering pile of slippery flesh I’d fucked for hours until we’re both spent. I want to sate myself in overwhelming her with pleasure.