by B. B. Roman
***
Things improved after that night, but improved was a term that actually represented something quite vague. Romantically, things were devolving. Roland seemed more stressed than ever, yet somehow more composed when I was around. He never showed any hostility to me, even when things appeared to go wrong. But that also meant that his sex drive was nearly zero, even when mine remained heightened after our experiences. Overall, it was a very confusing time to be a woman in Roland's household.
Other than the sex thing, life at home was as routine and normal as it could be in the home of a mysterious billionaire.
Work was turning into something else, something very different.
Frederic and I had grown close, perhaps too close. He began showering me with attention, almost as if it were something that had been arranged by Roland. I didn't believe that for a second, however. From what I knew of the guy, he was genuine, a real person that happened to be charming and attractive.
On the days I worked, he made sure to stop by, many times taking me out to lunch or to the riverside to take a break. God, his charm just made me weak in the knees sometimes. I fought to control myself when I smelled his cologne. He could never sneak up behind me because of it—and that was probably a good thing.
With Roland being almost invisible, I was feeling things that were dangerously close to forbidden, things that seemed to border on what felt like cheating. I was a sailboat that was out to sea, just drifting in any direction that the wind took me—except that my direction was starting to get clearer all the time...
Frederic had come into my office one day and sat next to me, scooting close after reaching the seat. "Marisa!" he said, smiling. His arm wrapped around my shoulder and gave me a brief side-hug.
"Hi, Frederic," I said.
"How have you been?" he asked.
"Good, but what's up with all these missing barrels?" I asked.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I've been checking every day that I work to make sure the shipping manifests match the number of physical barrels. Sometimes it's off by one or two barrels," I said, thinking I was really showing how hard of a worker I was. His face seemed to flatten, almost to deflate. What had I done here?
"I thought you were doing weekly checks," he said, his somber look still remaining.
"No," I said. "I thought I was supposed to match up the sheets each day."
"That was for your benefit, anyhow," he said. "Sometimes there are daily inconsistencies."
"Oh," I said. "Why didn't anyone tell me that?"
"It wasn't your job, Marisa," he said. He nervously bit the pen in his mouth.
"I just wanted to—"
"This means someone is stealing," he said, his face shifting from sadness to anger.
"What?" Stealing? Had I uncovered a plot or something?
"Yes," he said. "The numbers shouldn't vary that much. Unless Roland is making more transactions off the books."
"Whoa," I said. "I didn't mean to dig into something like this."
"I think he may be doing things, Marisa. Possibly illegal things. He elected me to keep this company's reputation in check after his previous dilemmas in business."
I felt it happen at once, the literal a-ha moment, the connection made in my brain. Neurons fired here and there until all of the sudden my lips were moving, my vocal chords engaged. "I think he might have killed someone!" I blurted out. Shit!
"What? Roland?" I wasn't sure how to gauge his response at first. Did he know about this sort of stuff already?
"I, uh, just..." I trailed off, suddenly realizing that I had already said far more than I should have. At least we were alone in the office.
"Marisa, you must tell me. I don't care about your allegiances to Roland. This is serious." The look on his face was serious too. Everything about that moment oozed seriousness. His hand gripped my shoulder and held there, ensuring that I knew he meant business.
"Ugh," I said. So much for staying out of this one.
I proceeded to explain to him what I had experienced a couple weeks earlier, talking about the sounds downstairs, the text I had seen, the man showing up at the house. Frederic seemed to listen with utter fascination, digesting every word I said like it was just another part of a truly exquisite—and scandalous—meal.
"Wow," he said, my confession finally winding down and giving him a chance to think.
"I'm sorry," I said. "It sounds crazy. I'm not trying to go behind his back and everything. Everything just seems so weird."
"Roland has his moments," Frederic said, his eyes like two bright orbs that I couldn't look away from. We had gotten unusually close during my monologue, so close that I didn't know where one body ended and the other began. "It must have been so hard for you to keep a secret like that."
I liked how I felt when I was so close to him. I was venting something that I had bottled up inside for weeks now, wanting to tell someone but worried that no one was honest enough to receive the news. Now it was over—Frederic knew.
Before I knew it, we were kissing, his tongue twining with mine, our saliva mixing without restraint. His hands were tracing along the curves of my body, touching me, embracing me. I really felt like my heart might burst out of my chest at any moment.
The lower that his hands got, the more that I realized how wet I suddenly was. I felt somewhat ashamed at first, but realized I wasn't going to be able to stop unless he stopped first. As much as I fought it, I liked his hands on me and I liked kissing him. My clit ached, begging to be touched, a request that he seemed to acknowledge. His smooth hands started sliding up my inner thighs, inching toward that moisture that I couldn't contain. He would be there at any moment, touching my—
His phone suddenly rang loudly. "Damnit!" he said, breaking the kiss at once. He caught the call as I caught my breath. I sat there in silence as he talked, his words rushed as he tried to get to the bottom of whatever had demanded his attention. I wasn't sure where things would go once he hung up. The wait was a killer.
"Damnit!" he said again. "I've got to go. Are you coming to the company dinner tonight?"
"What dinner?" I asked,
"Roland gets all of his investors and partners together for a dinner at least once a year. That dinner is tonight."
"He didn't say anything to me," I said, suddenly feeling left out.
"I know he'll have a car for you. I've got to go. More preparations. Goodbye for now, Marisa." He kissed my cheek and then stood up and stepped out of the office at once.
Annual company dinner, huh? Maybe that's why he was in such a panic. What if all of his erratic behavior was just due to a stressful dinner he had to organize? I realized that the only thing certain in my life anymore was uncertainty.
I arrived home shortly after, Roland's arranged car empty today. When I walked inside, Roland was standing right there waiting for me.
"Marisa! We've got plans tonight." He was dressed in a pinstripe suit, one that looked absolutely gorgeous on him.
"I heard," I groaned.
"Frederic?" he asked.
"Yeah." I blushed after I thought about what Frederic and I had almost done.
"I left a dress for you upstairs. You'll be attending as my date. This is a very important meeting." His words came out in rapid bursts all at once. He seemed to be proud about this whole thing—and ensuring that the pressure was really on for me.
"Uh, okay," I said.
"Do hurry and get ready." He kept looking at his wrist and tapping like there should be a watch there.
"Alright, Roland, hold your horses," I said.
"Shall we ride in on a horse?" he said with a wan smile. "It can be arranged."
"Very funny," I grumbled. Honestly, I hadn't been very excited around him in days, at the very least. We hadn't been down to the dungeon since our last encounter and dinner was the only time we spent together. I had to say, it was pretty frustrating. Having all of the money in the world certainly didn't cure my problems.
I dragged my feet up the stairs until I reached my room. On the bed lay a beautiful shiny black and silver silk dress, one that probably was purchased from a store that I wouldn't even be able to pronounce the name of. Even though the collar he had given me—he hadn't actually seemed that concerned about me wearing it lately—made my jaw drop, this dress made me quiver. I liked to look nice, but this was probably one hundred steps above nice.
The dress fit perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places. Honestly, there was a bit more skin than I was used to revealing, but I didn't really know what the solution to that problem was. I kept mindlessly toying with the top of the dress, hiding my cleavage entirely and then pulling it down until my breasts nearly fell out. In a way, it was almost like wearing an entirely new skin, just playfully investigating its limitations.
I finally got situated, and after obsessing over the way my body looked in the mirror for about 20 minutes, I decided that I just needed to go for it. Roland wasn't the only person I'd met that insisted I was beautiful, even though I certainly didn't feel it most of the time. Being a woman could be so hard sometimes, even when Roland bought me a bunch of sexy stuff and showed me off in it. Things just weren't that simple.
There were a pair of super high high heels and some gorgeous diamond earrings to complement the outfit on the floor and the nightstand respectively. I put on everything that he had given me and strutted around the room a few times, imagining that I was entering the dinner. I saw all of these business men and women, friends and colleagues of Roland. They all stared at me, their eyes tiny orbs of attention.
"Marisa!" I heard from down the hall. Roland was fast approaching me.
"Let me do my make up first!" I cried.
His head popped into the doorway. "My dear god! What a stunner!" he said.
I immediately blushed. "Thanks," I said, my head pointing directly at the floor. I didn't want this sort of attention from him—and I also needed it worse than anything. Oh, conundrums...
He planted his hand on my ass and pulled me against him. I felt the hardness against my thigh. "I wish we had more time," he remarked.
As usual, his voice alone was enough to make my body tingle. I relaxed against him and sighed.
"I'm sorry that I've been distant, pet," he said.
"Whatever," I said. "If you really need to get going, you need to let me do my make up."
"Yes, yes. I'm going to go on ahead of you. Call me as soon as you arrive and I'll escort you inside—in style. And put on your collar. Be proud of your place in my life."
I shrugged. "All right." No, I still didn't know even know what that meant.
"The limo will be outside when you are. The trip is very short, I assure you."
"Okay, okay." Sometimes he could be so thorough that it drove me mad.
He planted a kiss on my cheek as he turned and proceeded out the door until he disappeared. I put on so much make up that I barely recognized myself when I was finished. Having access to an unlimited supply of the nicest stuff sometimes made you go overboard. It was a special occasion, after all.
Eye-shadowed and with crimson red lipstick, I decided I was ready to head out. I looked like a high-class something or other, I reckoned. Maybe a call girl. I giggled as I thought about it.
Oh yeah, the collar. Roland would be pissed if I forgot about it.
I secured it around my neck and took a moment to just stare at the accessory in the mirror. Honestly, it was nice as hell, and every time I whined about wearing it, I inevitably felt bad after the fact. There were a lot of karats of diamonds on that thing. I didn't even want to try to guess how much it cost. All complaints aside, it was an accessory that worked one-hundred percent of the time if your aim was glamorous.
I headed straight downstairs where I found the car waiting for me, just as Roland promised. I waved at the driver and hopped inside. Although I still didn't know his name, we had gotten quite familiar with each other despite our minimal communication.
Roland had left a dozen roses and champagne sitting there for me. I pulled the card off.
For my pet.
That's all it said. I took a quick whiff of the roses and then pushed them aside to get to the alcohol. I fought to get the bottle opened as we drove, the turns and bumpy roads making it nearly impossible for me to succeed. It finally popped open and champagne shot onto the floor. "Whoops!" I said out loud to myself. I took a big chug of the bottle, tired of trying to be classy. Alcohol was alcohol at this point.
The trip was short, just as Roland promised. We pulled up to the Starland Event Center, another large structure that Roland happened to own. Yes, there was a red carpet leading into the building. I was disappointed to learn that I wasn't about to be photographed by vicious paparazzi. I called Roland and sat there.
"One second," he said.
I took a couple more small swigs of the champagne—it was kicking in fast. My whole body was relaxing at once, the alcohol emboldening me, giving me courage that was normally entirely out of my reach. I laughed at the absurdity of the situation I was in until the door swung open.
"Pet! Do follow me! You can leave your things in the car." His arm found mine and helped me up. I left the champagne sitting on the seat, along with my purse. The door slammed shut behind me.
"Wow," I said. "Big event, huh?"
"One of the biggest in the city." He smiled proudly. "I can't wait for everyone to meet you."
"Please don't abandon me in front of these people," I begged.
"I promise not to," he said, not sounding all that serious.
I had a sneaking suspicion that he might not be able to keep his word. I braced myself.
Our pace was brisk, my shorter legs struggling to keep up with his longer strides. We entered a ballroom, one filled with hundreds of impeccably dressed and presumably rich folks. Their eyes all locked on us at once, the scene not unlike the one that I had imagined earlier. My heart pounded, but the deep breaths I took—and the sedative effect of the alcohol—ensured that I didn't break into a million tiny pieces in front of this crowd.
"Everyone," Roland cried out boisterously, "this is my date for the evening, the lovely and beautiful Marisa Taylor!"
The room—including a live jazz band—fell silent aside from Roland's echoing, booming voice.
"Uh, hi!" I said, making a single wave with my hand that reached a hundred hungry eyes at once. I bit my tongue nervously, feeling a little bit exploited, like every man was undressing me with his eyes. And then, Roland saved me from the silence.
"Let's continue the party then! Cheers!" He hoisted his scotch into the air, a drink that I didn't even see him grab. Magic scotch delivery. The wealthy had things I still didn't understand at all. My wonderment continued when a glass of champagne suddenly made its way into my hand.
"Thanks," I called out aimlessly to a waiter that I hadn't even seen.
Roland introduced me to a number of people, people that had titles that were exactly what I was expecting. CEOs, investors, colleagues, former business partners. You name it. Everyone was here. I couldn't believe how many times my hand had been kissed by the time we made the first round. I was just shocked at how familiar Roland seemed to be with every single person here.
Being drunk certainly helped to alleviate some of the monotony of the event. Stand up straight. Look pretty. Smile. Say a few words. Move on. Rinse and repeat. Some of the sleazier fellows made me really uncomfortable, but Roland did a fairly good job at keeping them away from me.
And then, just as I would have predicted, one of Roland's aides came over and pulled him aside, clamoring quietly about something that demanded his immediate attention. "Can it wait?" I heard him say.
He turned to face me. "I'll be right back, okay? You can take a seat at that table over there."
I frowned at him and then went to sit down. My legs were wobbly and unstable by this point, so aside from the fact that Roland was ignoring me again, sitting sounded pretty damn good. I took a seat at t
he empty table and continued to sip my I don't even remember what number drink.
"Do you want to know what he's really like?" I turned my head toward the gravelly, low voice. There was a guy in an ill-fitted tux, his face covered in dark stubble. His eyes carried a weight, and they were pressing against me in a way that made me tense up.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Roland," he said. "It's not a fucking joke. I'm serious. Here." He slid a business card toward me on the table. I saw there was writing scribbled on the back but couldn't make it out. I covered the card with my hand and eased it into my fingers.
"Whoa, whoa," I said. "I didn't say anything about a joke. What are you talking about?" Just like that, I was suddenly feeling sober.
"Call me when you're ready for the truth. I've heard a lot about you, so I'm glad we finally got to meet. You're his new girl of the week, so I thought you should have the option to know."
I felt so defiled by his words, even though they might have been true. "You're a jerk!" I said. I stared back with the same intensity that he directed at me. After a few seconds, my vision suddenly focused on a body that had intervened.
"Is there a problem here?" It was Frederic, his hand gently massaging my shoulder as he talked. "Ramón, are you troubling Roland's guest of honor?"
"We were just talking," he said as he stood up.
"Get lost," Frederic said. "Before I call the police."
Ramón disappeared like an apparition, the crowd swallowing him until he was no more. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that."
"God, that guy was a dick," I remarked. I felt so small, so humbled and tiny. And yet, my fingers still clenched that card. What to do with it?
"That's one of Roland's ex-partners. He usually comes to these events to beg. Money or opportunity or both." I could smell alcohol on his breath—we both had that in common.
"I need to use the bathroom," I said.
"I'll take you to the private one upstairs then," Frederic said. "Follow me."
