married for a year

chapter 6

Jones's POV

I eagerly tap my feet on the slick, hard floor, and then I ring open the elevator door and pull my briefcase out.

I move enthusiastically toward my office, expecting to get in so I can phone Anita and make her obey my directions. She works for me, so this is just another usual chore I may have her perform at the office.

I simply can't handle any more of these ladies pushing themselves at me with the purpose of getting me to breach my vows and go to their bed.

I am not able to achieve it. I need Anita as my woman. For a year, she is the only person I need. She is controllable and obedient.

I walk into the office, ignoring the staff member who passed by me, shaking my head at the notion of seeking to attract a female again, possibly from a church or a dating site.

I move over to the office chair with the high back and sink upon it before touching the intercom. It rings for long minutes before she answers it.

"Come to my office now!" I impose with unflinching authority.

I realize that taking it out on her the hard way isn't the greatest plan of action after hanging up the phone without waiting for her reaction. I also won't ask her for anything.

Before I tell her my option, I must first know hers. She is the finest person I have seen so far. When I returned home last night, I searched through my high school contact list to see if there was someone I should consider marrying into my family.

Nothing.

No one is fit to undertake the role. They're all the same, however.

And suppose Anita rejects the offer once more? Why is she even refusing the invitation?

I am unable to pinpoint a clear basis for her straight rejection without contemplating or trying.

A rap on the door startles me out of my stupor.

I straighten up in my seat and gaze up at her, welcoming her inside with a "Come in," my consent.

She comes in wearing an office blue shirt and a tight-fitting straight leather skirt.

Although I don't generally notice what my staff are wearing, I am doing so today for my assistant because of what I require from her.

She must wear things that suited me, and I must know everything about her personal life.

Though I doubt I've ever seen her like this, I think that's why I haven't been analyzing her clothing until now.

I'm curious how her hair would appear worn loose given she's wearing leather boots and has her hair tied back in a bun.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones," she answered, smiling and placing her hands behind her.

I say, "Good morning, Anita." "Sit."

She nods, without making eye contact with me, then takes a seat in the chair across from my desk.

"About yesterday's offer, have you given it any thought?" I ask, maintaining a calm head and waiting for a meaningful, positive response from her.

She is proficient in her position. Why can't I have her when I can have her at arm's length?

There is quiet.

She shakes her head, still examining her, waiting for a reaction, even from her glance. "I'm sorry, sir..."

"Why?" I stopped her suddenly, trying not to lose my fury and shout at her.

I want to know the genuine reason for this rejection because I already know what she is apologizing for.

Once again, she is quiet, not reacting, not moving.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I ask, increasing my voice a bit.

"What?" She looked up at once. "Of course not."

Though I'm reassured by the answer, a question immediately comes to me. This is a mature woman; how is it feasible for her to remain single?

"Then why are you rejecting my offer? Why won't you aid me with this task?" Rejected by my own crew, whom I can control whenever I want, for the second time in two days, I mutter gently, feeling my heart plummet to my stomach.

But don't you suppose that everything has an upper limit?

I don't want to keep driving her away with my harsh ways, so talking things out seems like the best line of action and the finest technique to win her over.

She peers up into her eyes and shakes her head. She responds, "Because this isn't what I had in mind for myself." It's just not the way my life was designed to be. That is not at all what I had envisioned.

I pretend to understand and nod. "What do you envision or what have you envisioned for your life if I may ask?"

I probe her about her ambitions, and she seems astonished.

To be honest, I don't give a damn about it; all that troubles me is how it is prohibiting her from taking advantage of what I am giving to her.

Isn't that a simple task?

I take the increasing hush as an answer. My briefcase, which I had placed on the floor before she came, gets picked up, and when I open it, the completed contract I had drafted the previous evening is there.

I was positive last night that my new plan would work, so this morning I wrote a one-year marriage contract and had her sign it.

However, now that she is rejecting me once again without warning her about the new thing I had planned for her, my confidence has fully evaporated.

However, I'm going to disregard it and continue the plan.

I pull out the contract and hurl it in her way. She lifts an eyebrow in curiosity at me.

I notify her as I put down the briefcase and rest my elbow on the desk. "I am going to add $50,000 more to the money I promised initially and that makes it $100,000 in total."

The sentence takes significant time to settle in, as her visage bounces between shock and awareness.

Her hands cover her lips as her eyes expand and she lets out a tiny gasp.

I tried to terrify her even more as if it would be sufficient to persuade her to agree. "I know you need this money, Anita, so I will advise you to take it now while it still lasts because I am afraid I will find someone else to do this job tonight if you don't accept it," I say.

I have no one left to negotiate my offer with, so I'll simply tack on some additional cash to the current agreement and get her to sign it straight away.

To my total dismay, she gives me the same disappointed shake of her head that she did previously, and my heart beats violently in my chest.

My mind forms a link, and I start to wonder. "Are you also one of those girls who don't want to accept the offer because I told them there will be no s*x?"

"What? No. It doesn't concern me. Her countenance initially indicates astonishment before flushing.

"Are you sure?"

I strive to preserve a serious appearance while chuckling at her comment.

"Yes, sir," she bows and answers.

"Are you a virgin?"

I make a forceful demand, expecting an angry yell or a frightened gasp, but to my shock, she merely nods.

How come?

Is she a virgin?

"You want the money, don't you?"

She squeezes her eyes hard and whispers quietly, "Yes," probably to block away the voice in her brain warning her not to accept my offer.

"All right. Put your signature on the agreement." I frantically throw the paper in her way, wanting nothing more than for her to sign it so we can move on with this.

She is not sure.

I reply loudly, resting in my chair with a relaxed posture. "Sign the contract and half of the payment will be yours now!"

Her eyes expand immediately, and she lets out a disappointed moan. She rapidly takes the contract, behaving as if it might evaporate into thin air if she doesn't take it immediately, and grabs the pen that's comfortably sitting on my desk.

With beseeching eyes, she nods to me and adds, "I will sign it, sir." She repeats it again, "I will sign it".

"Then sign it!" I give her a severe look, ordering her to take fast action to prevent adding to my stress.

I grin blissfully inside at a job well done as she scans over each page without reading it closely and puts her pen down on the signature lines.

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