Chelsea placed the contact card in her purse and sat up on her chair. If he was playing a game, she would show him she knew how to play along good enough. If she could swindle moneybags and bigwigs what was a little back and forth game that she couldn't play?She opened her company Skype account and searched for Fred's contact. He had already sent her a message. She clicked and read the message. Truly, it was all about business. He was giving details of prospective deals and contracts that he had in store for Cross Enterprises. But every businessman had a bad boy button somewhere on them. She was about to turn on Fred's bad boy button. She typed a short but demanding response and hit sent. 'When are we meeting?' It read.Then she relaxed, awaiting a response. Before long, the notification dinged. She opened the message and saw a picture with a text underneath. The picture was a selfie. He was in a restaurant, sitting alone on a table, probably awaiting his order. Under the selfie he
Chelsea smiled as she looked at Dylan, sitting majestically with his blunt in hand. He exhaled a puff of smoke, his eyes still fixed on her."I asked you a question" he said in a grave but calm voice.Chelsea exhaled. "I'm coming from a meeting with Fred Martin" she replied, her hands clutching her purse in front of her.Dylan closed his eyes and tilted his head backwards. "Leave us" he commanded. The guards stationed around immediately walked out to different locations. Dylan gently stood up and extinguished his blunt's fire in the ashtray beside his chair. He dusted his hands gently and put them in his pockets. Slowly, he walked towards her and started walking in circles around her."Fred Martin, huh?" he chuckled. "Yes" she replied confidently. "What for?" he asked again."To discuss about future business deals and contracts between Walmart and Cross Enterprises" Chelsea heaved."And what deals did you conclude on?" "None, yet. I postponed the meeting to another time" she answ
They finally got to a large red door. Chelsea could feel the horrors oozing out of the door. It felt like there was an evil world behind the door, like it led to a place of no return. A place of death.She shuddered as she watched Dylan open the door. He held it open for her to enter. She inhaled and exhaled deeply before gradually stepping in. The metallic smell of blood instantly invaded her nostrils. As she walked in, she could see blood splattered everywhere.In the middle of the room, a man was hung by two chains holding his hands apart. His legs were also chained to the ground, positioning him in a crucifix fashion. His head hung low as though he had expired but his chest said otherwise. He still heaved, an evidence that he was still alive and breathing. Only that his breathing was laborious and rather slow.Two other bodies hung beside him but their fates were much worse. They were completely lifeless. Why not? Their eye sockets looked nothing like eye sockets anymore. It looked
Chelsea sat in her room, reflecting on what had happened in the torture room. A part of her felt sorry for the man as she remembered him screaming incessantly. Another part of her was relieved that it wasn't what she feared that Dylan was talking about.She smiled as she remembered his last words before they left the room. He had taken a long look at her horrified face and said:"Don't let this be Fred Martin. I'm sure both of us would not want to loose such a valuable client" He had said it with such calmness that she felt he already had an operation planned out for the poor Walmart manager. Right there, without directly saying it, he had expressed his jealousy and how serious he would take it if she defaulted again. That was exactly what she wanted. Her smile broadened as she felt her plan coming ever closer to an actualization. She had indeed played well.Even though a gnawing feeling deep down haunted her, she had already made her decision. This wasn't her first time after all.
They got to Golden Petals and alighted the vehicle. Dylan feigned disinterest as he walked slowly, tagging behind Chelsea who led the way. Chelsea didn't dilly-dally, walking briskly towards the reception where she obtained their access cards. She walked to the elevator and entered it, turning around to wait for Dylan. She leaned on the inside, taking her left leg upwards a bit. Dylan scratched the tip of his nose and walked into the elevator. He turned around and stood beside her as they watched the elevator doors slide close. Then the facility began its ascent to the destined floor. They both felt the heat building up inside the elevator but neither made a comment. They kept silent as though they were strangers but each one seemed to know what the other wanted.Chelsea groaned silently and threw her purse forward. She walked to it and bent to pick it up. She let it slide from her hand and it dropped again. "Ugh" she groaned softly. She bent further this time, arching her back as
Dylan stood up immediately and rushed up to the door. He saw Fred trying to get in and stopped him."Hello" he smiled. "Are you the Walmart manager who's supposed to meet us for a business deal?" he asked in a warm manner. "Uhm...Yes. Good day, Sir" he greeted, his face holding a hint of confusion. "Alright, come on in" Dylan replied and stepped aside for him to step in. He closed the door behind him and turned around. Chelsea was no longer there. He exhaled in relief and put on a smiling face. "Do make yourself comfortable, Mr. Martin. Ms. Landore will be joining us soon" he gestured to an armchair by the side."Very well, Sir" Fred smiled in return as he sat down. His eyes darted about in search of Chelsea. Dylan sat across him and scoffed as he noticed his eyes wandering. Then he smirked as he remembered what just happened before the Walmart manager stepped in. He felt a strange sense of satisfaction as he didn't grant Chelsea's wish for him to go in himself. She wasn't going t
Dylan and Chelsea finally got home and alighted the Urus. Dylan nodded for her to go on and she obliged. She walked elegantly, taking gracious strides into the mansion. As expected, she saw Joyce standing with her hands clasped together in front of her. And as usual, she had a radiant smile on her face. "Good Evening, Ma'am" she greeted courteously. She had begun to accord the woman a great deal of respect since she learned that she was Dylan's foster mother. "Evening, Chelsea" Joyce beamed. "How was work today?" she asked with a knowing glare. "Pretty splendid" Chelsea answered cheerfully. "Hmm. I can tell" Joyce replied with a sly smile. Chelsea laughed softly and walked past her, heading for her room. She got to her room and took off her dress. As she undressed, she observed her form in the dressing mirror. She studied her body admirably, pleasing her eyes with what she saw. She caressed her hips and rubbed upwards on her torso. Her hands got to her breasts and she outlined th
Chelsea felt her heart skip a bit at those words. She had expected to see a regular prisoner, or worse, a tortured captive who was either unconscious or bleeding his soul out. But this was different. The prisoner was the secret lover of Dylan's ex-wife, Clara. And he had no marks whatsoever that showed evidence of torture or beatings. "Every day I've held back the urge to slit his throat" Dylan said calmly, hatred brewing in his voice. The man kept on looking at Chelsea, not saying a word. His nose twitched occasionally but his eyes were fixed on Chelsea. Then he suddenly smirked. She stepped back in fright. "What's he doing?" she asked Dylan nervously."He's just a demented asshole. Maybe that was the look he used to give Clara before they had intercourse" Dylan replied with contempt. His grip on the bars tightened and Chelsea could see the vein on his hand. His sleeves were rolled up as though he was ready to land deadly punches at any time."This could have been Fred Martin had