5. WHO IS YOUR BOSS?

Exemplified by fragility, sporting the same dress from the night before, Orla followed after David, Callan's chauffeur. Bumping hips as they slowly strode down the garage of her father's mansion.

Orla's large hazel eyes were firmly fixated on David, not wavering as she took in his features. He was sexily tall, almost the same height as Callan, a well-tailored suit flawlessly accentuated his hunky frame that was easily noticeable from how his shirt tightly fitted him. He was hot, unlike Arnold's Chauffeur who was abnormally gangly and frail, according to her perceptions though.

Lapping her lips against each other, she stalled and placed her arms on her chest. "Who exactly is your boss?" She queried David who was a few steps ahead of her.

He curtailed his tracks, eyes flickering and landing on Orla. He shrugged and responded, "Callan Barlowe, the man you are about to get married to." A small smile materialized on his face.

The words frightened Orla, she took a backwards word and wiggled her head. She still hadn't processed and accepted the fact that she was getting married to a man she barely knew.

Turning back to David, a small sound of panting dropped from her lips. "I know, but can you tell me a few things about him?" She wasn't the type to initiate a conversation with a stranger, but she wanted to know more about Callan and she felt she couldn't stare straight into his eyes to directly ask him questions. His stares were deathly, she didn't dare to look up at him. David seemed nice, and she was willing to make use of that opportunity to ask him whatever she wanted to know about her prospective husband.

David smiled, "I think I know what you want to know." Pausing in front of the limousine, he jerked the door open for her to sit in. After Orla had settled in, he bent to her level and whispered into her ears, "You should ask him all that you have on your mind to ask, he alone can give the best answers to all questions." Smiling again, he lifted his head, adjusted his suit and slammed the door shut.

Pressing his shades to his eyes, he majestically walked into the car. Within seconds, the car was out of the mansion and on the streets, heading towards Callan's penthouse.

Orla sat still in the car, mulling over David's response to her question. There was a twinge of fear that shot through her mind whenever she tried to remember Callan, the feeling was petrifying and she wasn't certain she could go for long, but even if she couldn't, she had no choice now. Her fate had been sealed and there was nothing she could do to change that.

Sighing, she shot her head out of the window and let the evening breeze replenish her as she thought of the solutions she could come up with, to make her life reasonable again. Not that it was always reasonable, but at least she had her freedom and could do whatever she wanted within the walls of her room, but things were going to change now. She dreaded that change so much and she so badly wanted to put an end to it all.

-

-

After about an hour of passive driving, the car was put to an abrupt stop. Orla was already asleep by the time they got to the penthouse. David called on Rosa to come to pick Orla up and show her to the room where she was needed by Callan. He busied himself with other things while he awaited the arrival of Rosa.

Rosa finally showed up when Orla had just woken up, she flipped her eyes around to survey the gigantic skyscraper that was in front of her.

"Where am I?" She asked, her eyes darting from Rosa to David.

"The boss's penthouse." Rosa chimed, unimpressed. She glanced at David and said, "Is this the bride you were talking about?" Her eyes moved back to Orla, disgustingly ogling her.

"Yes, she's the one." David smiled, hoping Orla wouldn't take offence with Rosa's deathly stares. "Take her to the boss." 

"Come with me," Rosa said sternly, walking out of the parking lot. Orla hurried after her, afraid she'd get lost if she wasn't fast enough. 

They got into the elevator, heading to the sixth floor. When they arrived, Rosa got out very quickly and was gone within a twinkle of an eye. Orla searched for her on the passageway but couldn't find any traces of her. Everywhere was quiet, the first floor was busy and filled with people bustling around the whole place. She figured the other floors were filled with people but the sixth floor was as silent as a graveyard. She could bet that she would hear the sound of a pin if it fell on the tiled floor.

Staggering on her feet, she wobbled the hallway and finally decided to dash into a room to check if Rosa was in there since she wasn't coming out. She clamped her small hands on the doorknob of a room and without knocking, she pressed the knob, widely opening the door to a large room, the largest room she'd ever seen.

"Hey, are you in there?" She gently shut the door, walking further into the room. There were about six divans sparsely arranged across the centre of the room, a big brown mahogany table encompassed with stationeries, a computer and other things that were needed in an office. She halted and smiled, peeping through the curtains, she caught a glimpse of the king-sized bed filled with pillows.

Veering around, she called out for Rosa but there was no response. An artwork of two birds caught her attention, she walked over to the part of the room where it was hung and was about to run her fingers through it when a familiar voice creaked behind her.

She jolted in fear, drooping her head to avoid his eyes.

"Who are you?" Callan's deep voice echoed through the room, causing a bone in her to jerk. "And what are you doing here?" She could make out his footsteps approaching her.

Nervousness compressed her. Head still bowed, she kept mute.

"Are you one of the new cleaners? Did Rosa employ you? Didn't she tell you that you don't touch my things unless I ask you to? And how dare you walk into my room without knocking? You are fired!" He angrily yelled at her.

"I–I–I am sorry," Orla spilled out in a shaky voice, sweat trickling down her forehead.

"Leave this moment!" Callan barked at her, throwing his hand towards the door.

Isla nodded and turned around to leave. Raising her head, her eyes met with Callan's and within a flash, she saw the astonishment on his face.

"Wait!" He raised his hand to halt her, a knock came in at that time. 

Rosa walked in with a grim expression marring her face. "I am sorry, I had to confirm our payments with Bechang Company."

Though angry, Callan said nothing. He looked back at her and said, "Why did you leave her to barge into my room?"

"I am sorry, Boss," Rosa emphasised, her eyes ogling Orla who was still confused about the whole thing.

Callan stared at Orla, nodding his head after a long time. "Sit on the sofa," he commanded, gesturing to the sofa at the far end of the room.

Orla obeyed without complaints, wondering why he was so mad at Rosa because of her mistake. He was meant to be glad to see her since she was chosen by him and he even invited her over but the reverse was the case there, he looked too mad to see her and she was disappointed. Maybe he didn't want her at all, she thought. No one ever wanted her though, she'd always been a rejected child.

"Her clothes are tattered," Orla heard Callan whispering to Rosa. She lowered her head to take a good look at the long gown she donned. It wasn't tattered, it was her favourite gown. Why would Callan call her favourite cloth tattered? Her lips curved into a frown as she gaped at the both of them. "Call Liam to get her new clothes."

"Yes, Boss." Rosa bowed her head in deference. "I will do that now." She was gone again and now Orla was left with Callan in the room.

He walked over to where she was seated and crouched down on the sofa that was opposite hers. "I told David to bring you over, why didn't you wear something more decent? Did you think you were going to a funeral?" He asked sternly, his face devoid of emotions.

Orla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, she wanted to scold Callan for berating her best dress, but that would be a bad idea. He hated her already and maybe she didn't want him to hate her more.

"Liam will soon be here, he will take your measurements and get you new clothes that you'd be needing for dinner. My mom wants to meet you."

The severity that laced his voice sent cold shivers down her spine, she gulped down her words and nodded obediently, she didn't dare to oppose him or ask him questions. The ferocious look on his face frightened her and she felt she just had to obey every one of his orders without query.

When Callan looked away, she took a few seconds to study him. He was hot and domineering, the most handsome man she'd ever seen, she didn't deserve him at all, she was nowhere close to the class of women he'd be with and she was sure of that. She wondered why Callan chose her instead of her sisters, she wasn't fit for him, Mia and her other sisters were good for him, but she was nowhere close.

"What's your name again?" Callan queried, facing her.

Her heart dropped when he asked that, she tried to remember if she told him her name the previous night but her memory suddenly became blank. Even if she told him, it didn't matter, it was obvious he didn't care about her and he would not even have remembered if she told him.

"Orla Sullivan," she responded, her voice cracking as she spoke out of fear. She dared to look into his eyes, and he looked back at her, locking eyes with her for a few seconds. She opened her mouth and before she could stop herself, the words slipped off her mouth. "Why did you choose to marry me?"

Callan smiled cruelly. Resting his back on his couch, he said. "I haven't decided why I chose to marry you but maybe I will find out with time. But I want you to know that I have no interest in you, you are not the kind of woman I'd look at two times, so don't get your hopes too high because you will be disappointed!"

Orla nodded her head, wondering how he could be so mean with his words. "But," she wavered, her heart was hurting like she was punctured by a dagger. "But we can stop this whole thing, my sisters are beautiful, they are all you need and you can easily pick one of them. Please just let me go." She begged.

"Liam will be here in a few minutes, he will take your measurements and sew nice dresses for you for dinner and…" He stalled, his eyes moving up from Orla's head down to the sandals she wore. "He would design the wedding dress because it's clear that none of your family members is interested in this whole thing and I don't want a horrible-looking bride on my wedding day." He rose to his feet, adjusting the blazer he wore. "I have to resume back to work, wait here for Liam and do not roam around the place. I do not fancy it when people, strangers touch my things without my consent." With that said, he walked over to the desk, perched down on the armchair and swirled it around to face the window side.

Orla stayed still on the sofa, her eyes on Callan, she could feel the wetness that dimmed her vision as she stared at Callan. She sighed, wiping her tears with her thumb, it wasn't going to be a good one for her, she was certain that Callan's house would be more hellish than her father's mansion. But there was no way to stop the plans, no way at all.

The door to the room flew open and a tall young man with a very beautiful face and body walked in. He spotted Orla where she was seated and he screamed out, "Holy Moly, look at the beauty we have here."

Orla raised her head to see a strange face staring at her, confusion clouded her expression. 

"Who are you?" She asked him.