DESPERATE AND PATHETIC

ELENA’S POV

I bit the insides of my mouth to swallow the laugh that threatened to escape. Served her right to waltz in here with her boobs all up in her face, thinking she can seduce Damien. It was very funny to watch her flare up and turn red like she ate a bunch of jalapeno peppers while she walked out in shame with her tail between her legs. Not before glaring daggers at me as she was leaving, as if to say This is not over.

Not even sparing her a second glance, I sat back down and opened the folder, running through the job description. I frowned in confusion, not understanding why the job description was looking so mediocre even for my status.

“Grab your coffee? What am I, your live-in maid?” I scoffed, slamming the file on his desk angrily, and got to my feet. He didn’t look startled one bit as his gaze didn’t leave his work. “And what is this, taking all the notes in all your meetings? Following you on business trips?”

“That’s the job description you’ve been dying to find out about, princess,” he replied gruffly, obviously pissed that I was disturbing him. I turned towards the couch and sat right back, folding my arms, indignant. 

“I won’t work then.”

That got his attention, and he paused, dropping the pen he as flipping. “That’s not an option,” he stated defiantly.

If he was going to prove difficult, then I’d match him, aura for aura. “My working for you is no longer on the table, Vance. I’ll buy the shares with my trust fund. I’m processing it right now as we speak.”

He let out a slow, dark chuckle. “I think your early termination from Carter Cosmetic and your time in jail must have messed with your head. Technically, you can’t have access to the trust fund. You’re Celine Vance now, remember? Not Elena Carter. The legality of getting the said trust will not only alert your sister, it will bring her up to the idea of our plans. I’m sure you know how that will end.”

I huffed in annoyance. Why does he always have to have the last say? “Then why did you agree to it before you mentioned working for you?” I snapped, clearly at my wits end.

He smirked, like he was enjoying seeing me lose my cool, very much amused. “I just said that to indulge you, entertain your wild, over-the-top imagination. It was floppy at best, funny at most.”

I boiled with rage. Fucking bastard.

“I fucking hate you,” I spat, venomous.

“The feeling’s mutual, princess.”

“Stop calling me princess,” I snapped.

Pretending he didn’t hear, he went back to what he was doing. “You will work here, till we can figure out how to get your trust fund.”

“Like I said, I’d do no such thing. You don’t own me!”

He got off his seat abruptly, reaching me in quick, huge strides. I was taken aback, letting out a gasp as he caged me with his huge frame. And boy, did he look mad, his jaw ticked.

“Listen here, princess. Need I remind you that you’re bound to me by contract?” he gritted out, as though he was tired of my antics. “And maybe you don’t recall, but there’s a clause that clearly states that till the purpose of our contract is fulfilled, you’ll do whatever I say. Which means I own you, and I control everything you do. So think twice before trying to act smart. Or I’ll throw you back in that hellhole where you’ll rot for the rest of your life. Are we clear?”

I didn’t respond. I was getting tired of fighting him. It was of no use anyway. 

“So why don’t you be a good assistant, princess, and get me my coffee?”

I tried hard to glare at him but the harder I tried, the deeper I fell into his hazel eyes. And I couldn’t get angry anymore. Instead, I pushed him out of my path, getting off the couch and clearing my throat. The distance between us was beginning ro get too close for comfort.

“I don’t know where to get your coffee,” I said, looking everywhere else but at him. I heard him return to his desk. 

“Ask Hilda where to get my coffee,” he replied and I turned on my heel immediately, leaving his office. I spotted Hilda in her cubicle as soon as I stepped out and made my way towards her.

“Umm, please could you tell me where to get Mr. Vance’s coffee?” I asked. She looked up from her work, smiling brightly as she noticed my presence.

“Sure, you can get it from the office kitchen, there’s an espresso machine there. Mr. Vance likes his with two shots of cream, no sugar.”

“Which way is it please? And I’ve never made coffee before,” I said timidly, looking down in embarrassment.

She laughed. Oh my word, that’s new. If you’ve never made coffee before, it’s either you don’t drink coffee or you’re like old-money rich, those entitled ones that don’t ever have to lift a finger.”

How do I tell her that I fell into the second category?

When she saw I didn’t respond, she reined in her laughter, clearing her throat. “The company has five office kitchens. Ours is just below us, just down the hall. Go ahead of me, I’ll join you.”

I thanked her and made my way to the elevator. The door opened and I groaned at the sight of one person I wasn’t really keen of setting eyes on. I got in anyways, squaring my shoulder, not wanting to feel intimidated by her presence as I punched in the fifteenth floor. As I looked at her through the reflection of the closing elevator door, I noticed her shirt was more buttoned up, her skirt suddenly longer than I saw when she came in earlier. I had to wonder, did she really dress that way to see Damien? Because if she did, then she was so desperate and pathetic.

But I wasn’t about to let her know that. I didn’t want to cause trouble and we rode in silence. As soon as the door opened, I walked out briskly, beelining for the kitchen.

What I wasn’t expecting was for her to follow me.