My Contractual Love

Chapter five

Neema pov

“What?”

“The boss wants to see me?”

“Why?

“I’m sorry I can not tell exactly why.”

I wondered why the boss would ask for me. Did he know anything about my situation? Or was I just imagining things? Well...if the boss demands to meet me, I’d probably have a chance.

We Walked down the hallway towards the elevator. But who was the boss? I began wondering if I may have known from somewhere, but as far as I can remember, I have never been close to any man, not even back in high school.

Boys were always miles away from my plans, Which means no “boyfriend”. Many of my girls back then never missed chances of becoming cheerleaders, just do they could show off their pretty asses and probable get themselves a prom king. Funny how I never attended those night out party.

The ones they held at Jake’s parents farm house. Jake was a friend of a friend, who invited me to party. But I never got that kind of freedom. Mum’s Illness had just began, taking us unawares, dragging the carpet beneath our legs and throwing our weights to the cold floor.

I used most of those times attending to my part-time jobs, got home late and see a movie and sleep on it. Summer was quite easy to deal with, because jobs were available in coffee shops, restaurants, fast foods, Ice cream stalls and Subway foods hired high schoolers.

Mr. Tan-faced punched the elevator bottoms with his fingers and soon it made a bing sound, opening, and pouring out a number of co-workers, mostly ladies with coffee cups in the hands. I could hear them gossip in loud voices.

“... and he looked it me. I swear I could melt into and ice cream cup!” The blondie said, stepping out.

“OMG! How did you handle such sexiness?” a voice asked, passing me by.

“He didn’t even smile. You forgot his called the “iron heart”!” The blondie said, bursting into laughter.

I and Mr. Tan-faced had stepped into the elevator, as the doors closed. I could feel it raise, right from my feet, and growing up my head in a slow process. I stood straight beside Mr. Tan-faced trying to avoid the awkwardness of standing next to him, silently.

In a few breaths, we were on the hallway of the building’s top floor. I followed Mr. Tan-faced consciously, behind, somewhat afraid that I was been kidn*pped. We walked past several doors similar to the one at the interview room. But there was something different about this hallway.

It looked much more luxurious. There were art works hanging on the walls. A figurine statue sat by each corner, on the left end and on the right end. The painting of Van Gogh Vincent hung firmly on the other end, tickle my fancy at how magnificent it looked in its real form.

I had seen a lot of pictures of the painting online, but never in experienced it through my own perceptions. A phone beeped and I searched bag thinking it was mine, till Mr. Tan- faced slipped his to his ears.

“She’s here, already?”

“Okay. Here is the deal. Tell her to wait for at least two minutes long.”

“Yeah...alright.” Mr. Tan-faced responded to the unknown caller and I knew something had popped up.

“Miss Neema, I’d have to leave you right away. I need to meet someone, downstairs. But I’d just direct you.” Mr. Tan Said.

“Okay, sir!” I responded, nodding.

“You see the room over there? Yes...the last one. Go into that office. I think my job here is done.” Mr. Tan-faced said, conclusively.

“Okay, Sir!” I replied.

With each step bitten off my foot with time's embrace, I grew nervous. My heart quaked and quiver, ready to explode from my chest. I tried to calm my nerves, by taking in deep breathes.

“You need to calm down, girl!” I said, almost in a whisper, as I tried to put up a “calm and collected look”. I was now in front of the door. It was in a dark brown shade, looking like a doors to a castle, huge and large, larger than any I had ever seen. The kind of door I had seen in Bridgeton series, at the queen’s home.

My fingers unfroze to a knock.

“Once”, “twice”, “thrice?”

There was still no response. I pushed the gigantic doors slowly and stepped in. The sight of the glamorous designs fascinated me. My eyes caught sight of a large diamond table, with a suit jacket resting on a big spin chair behind it.

Was that real diamond or pure glass? I moved further cautiously to where the table stood examining it. I was certain it would cost a fortune. The dollar bills in that shiny table could solve all my problems. It could give mum her health. It could pay Naomi’s school fees. It could send me to college and a great fortune would sit perfectly in my bank account.

I watched the edge closely, examining the unique patterns curved into it. I was marvelled by its beauty. I noticed the dark brown theme colour in the room, too big of a hall to be called an office. From the couch to the artworks, to the drawers, all were in dark brown. Whoever this boss was, He probably had a knack for that colour.

I saw the hour glass pour its last drop, and turn it a start all over. The room was more like a lounge, maybe a real life lounge. Something different from the once I had ever seen in movies. As I Watched the hour glass pour. I locked up at the chandeliers, glowing light and diamonds.

I moved to a small library near the wall, reading through the titles of non-fictional texts before the last string broke. The acknowledgement of a familiarity in the voice came glaring behind me.

“Miss. Neema Richardson. Here you are!” The voice growled in his throat.

I turn to confirm my doubts.

“Oh my!” My eyes widening.

The Sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, exposed the shape of his biceps, pressing forward. He stood by the door leaning sideward, his legs crossed and his pure white teeth peeping out through the window of those soft lips.

“Let’s get on with this deal, my delighted business partner!” He said with a darkened smile sliding up the corner of his lush lips.