Elevator.

A long leg clad in black trousers and a gleaming black shoe stopped the elevator from closing fully. A muscular toned man stepped in, clad in a white dress shirt that was tucked neatly in his trousers and matched with a black coat. His eyes met mine and I fought the urge to swallow nothing. His handsomeness was beyond this earth, no… he was beautiful. Beautiful was the perfect word to describe this enigma right in my presence.He moved to the other end of the elevator, his green eyes scrutinizing me. His hair seemed disheveled as if he had run his hand through it multiple times which made me wonder how it would feel if I ran my hands through them.I shook my head and looked away but I found myself stealing glances at him, multiple glances that became too obvious. We could both feel it, the tension. This strange man suddenly seemed to have piqued my interest and I guess I had also peaked his. He was so handsome and beautiful at the same time. His height was life threatening, he was 6’3

“You are getting married…"Those words echoed in my head like a broken record, ringing in my ears as I stared at my father in shock. It felt like I was in a dream, a dream I wished to be woken up from. I was beyond shocked at my father’s words and even worse, he said it with so much ease like it wasn’t a big deal.“What do you mean I’m getting married?” I queried, fighting off annoyance.“Well, a very wealthy billionaire came for your hand in marriage and I couldn’t refuse,” he answered, focused on the files he was working on.“I mean, the offer was a hearty one," he looked up long enough to shoot me an irritating grin, "so technically, you are betrothed to him. Your opinions are not needed as you would be going on a dinner date with him tomorrow. Get to know him before the wedding preparation begins,” he said with a wide smile.“But dad I do not want to get married to anyone yet!” I cried out, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes.“I said your opinions are not needed, you are gett

ELEVATOR CHAPTER SIX: MEET THE SHAULSI wonder how evil somebody had to be that there was such a desperate need to keep their identity a secret from the public, how many people's toes have they stepped on, how many people are planning to kill them for them to need such secret service and MI6 treatment, one only sees situations like this in the movies, or at least so I thought.I went from not wanting to be in the presence of these people arriving my father's house to bid for my head like a slave auction in 1864 in the name of marriage— to being eager to see what this person looks like, I don't know if I want to justify my hatred for them by looking at their face or getting the satisfaction of staring him dead in the eyes and saying no to marrying him or I just wanted to spit at his face, I hadn't made up my mind when I almost slipped and fell. This has to be the most uncomfortable pair of shoes to be ever made, I was just a taking on the stair away from snapping my ankle to the back

"Why do you always have to spit on my face every damn time Adrianne?" my father asks after we stare at each other blankly for about five minutes but seemed like an eternity.I have so much I want to say to the old man but I need to garner enough strength to say it without bursting into tears, I am barely holding them under my eyelids at this point.At times like this I need my mother the most. She always had a way to deal with him in these kind of situations, sometimes I wonder if he purposely put her away in the hospital and then conveniently planned the marriage at a time when she was not around."I give you everything you need, I give you even what you don't need, I work my butt off to make sure that you do not lack anything under the sun, yet you and your vegetable of a mother always find new ways under the sun to ridicule and shame me, and what's worse in front of very important company," the veins on his forehead and neck threatening to pop out of his skin and spew blood on me a

The old devil leaves and I get back to trying to get the wine and bloodstain off my dress, but all to no avail, this is exactly why I don't ever wear cashmere. On the brink of panicking, could this night get any worse I ask myself, then I realize I came up with my little clutch bag, and inside it is my cellphone.I reach for the little clutch bag like a horny overseas marine officer reaches for his wife's bra after three years of overseas service in Alaska or some other distant land.Before then it took me about thirty seconds or more to figure out where I kept the bag, after all a lot had happened since I came into this bathroom, I've cried twice and thrown more tantrums than a toddler, ruined my make up and applied it again, I've made a deal with the deal amongst other things.My eyes finally settle on the little clutch bag lying innocently on the floor, untouched, as if the Wolf did not almost burn in this bathroom. I bend down with great difficulty, my whole body feels stiff, th