The Minister’s Obsession

Chapter 4 — She believes

MARISSA'S POV

The email came just after sunset.

Dear Ms. Hall,

We are pleased to offer you the role of Personal Executive Secretary to Mr. Adam Minister at Holden Corp. Full benefits included. Salary: $92,000 annually. Start date: Immediately upon acceptance.

Marissa read it again. And again.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, heart thudding in her chest. Her room was dimly lit by the glow of her laptop, painting a sharp shadow across the wall. This doesn’t make sense, she thought, staring at the figure.

She’d applied for a junior assistant role. Something entry-level, borderline admin. Not this. Not something so… close, to the heart of it all.

She could still see his eyes in her mind from earlier that day. His cold gaze. His calculating composure. She hadn't done anything out of the ordinary during the interview; in fact, she had thought her performance was less than impressive.

And now this job offer. Marissa couldn't believe her luck. She remembered the look on Adam's face throughout the interview, cold and locked away. She was going to be working for him, and not just that, close to him as his personal secretary.

She was excited, but she couldn't help the feeling that her new boss had chosen her for a reason she couldn't quite figure out yet. There was no two ways about it though, she was offered the job and she would accept it.

She exhaled slowly, clicking the email shut, but the buzz of adrenaline didn’t fade. She walked to her lockbox, opened it again, and pulled out the black-and-white photo. Adam Minister. CEO. The man who was there that night—or someone connected to him. I know it.

This job… it could be the access she needed. Being close to Mr Minister would help her with finding out what she needed to know.

She caught her reflection in the mirror. She would need to change her wardrobe. She had to fit into that corporate atmosphere or at least look like she was making an effort. But for now, it was time to celebrate her little win. She walked into the kitchen to prepare a special dinner.

Later that night

The apartment was quiet, candlelight flickering low on the table. The takeout boxes sat abandoned. Marissa had barely touched her noodles. The dinner she'd tried to prepare was a disaster. Yosef had saved the day as usual by ordering takeout.

They sat side by side on the couch of their shared apartment. An empty bottle of wine sat on the table before them with half-empty wine glasses. Yosef was close, too close. His warmth pressed against her side, his hand was on her thigh, tracing imaginary lines on her skin.

It sent her into a trancelike state where all she could do was manage to hold herself together. He knew how she liked to be touched and where. And he was using it all to his advantage this night. He pulled his hand away slowly, and she found herself reaching out to grab his arm.

Bringing his hand back to where it was before, and lower, and lower, until his fingers grazed the surface of her shorts right where her sweetspot would be. She let out a quiet moan.

She'd asked for it, wanted it. So she didn’t resist when he leaned in, didn’t push away when his hand cupped her jaw.

Their lips met in a rushed moment of need. His tongue probed deep into her mouth, and she welcomed it. He tasted faintly of wine and cigarettes.

The kiss intensified as they both explored each other's bodies with their hands. Yosef slipped his hand into her shorts, tugging at the strings of her underwear.

The friction it caused sent her spiralling. Touching, roaming, caressing. Marissa moaned against his lips, arching her hips to grind against his hands.

And finally, after much teasing, he slipped one finger in.

It was warm, soft and moist. Excessively moist. Marissa was writhing in pleasure. Yosef, overthrown by desire, took her hand and placed it on his bulge.

It was firm and hard underneath the fabric of his pants. She stroked his length, her movement getting slower and slower as she drew closer to orgasm. With a sharp cry, she came hard, moaning and writhing against Yosef's thrusts. He gave her a satisfied smile, but he wasn't done yet.

Afterwards, Marissa stood in her bathroom, damp towel wrapped around her, the mirror fogged with steam. She wiped it clear and stared at her reflection.

You shouldn’t have done that, she thought to herself. But deep within her, she didn't regret it. Yosef was good at many things, and s*x was one of them.

Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Yosef pulled on his jeans, still shirtless with hair damp from sweat. He moved to grab his hoodie lying on the floor when something caught his eye—papers sticking out from beneath the bed.

He could've ignored it, but his curiosity got the best of him. Soon enough, he found himself kneeling on the floor, reaching for the bundle. He looked towards the direction of the bathroom. The shower was still running.

He sighed as he opened the binder. And what he saw made his heart sink.

Newspaper clippings. Red circles around headshots. Photos. Journal entries. Different names and symbols scribbled in the margins. The same grainy photos she’d shown him once, years ago.

The ones she'd told him she had burned. And the newest entry, Holden Corp: Shell or Shadow? All this while he was under the impression that she'd moved on.

Marissa stepped out just as he stood.

“…You’re still doing this?” he said, his voice a tad bit accusatory.

Her eyes followed his gaze, and she froze. There was no denying it now. It was bound to come up anyway.

“Yosef, I can explain—”

“You said you were done, Mariss.”

"I was—until this job came out of nowhere. It’s connected, I know it. I can feel it. I'm close...”

"Out of nowhere? Really? You had the whole thing planned! And you didn't even tell me about it,"

He tossed the papers on the bed. “You don’t know anything. You think you do, but all you’ve got are wild theories and some online fantasy nerds telling you what you want to hear.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’m crazy.”

“I think you’re obsessed. And I think you're gonna get yourself hurt, and for what?”

She crossed her arms, defensive. “I’m not the only one who hasn’t moved on. You’re still here. Still pretending we’re something we’re not.”

That cut landed deeper than she realized.

“I care about you, Mariss,” he said, jaw clenched. “Even if you don’t want it. But this story you think you’re chasing—vampires? Come on.”

“This story? This story is my whole life!”

They stared at each other, the moment tense with emotion.

Finally, Yosef grabbed his hoodie and stepped toward the door.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said. “Do what you want. Suit yourself.”

And then he was gone.

The air outside was cold. The city was busy as always, never sleeping. He was in his car at the parking lot of their apartment building. He leaned against the steering wheel, chest rising and falling too fast. His heart hurt in a way he didn’t want to name.

He pulled out a phone—not his normal one, but a cheap, burner-style Nokia from the back of his glove compartment. He long-pressed the dial button, and the screen blinked to life. There was just one number in the call history.

He hesitated. Then pressed call.

The line rang once. Twice. At the third ring, he thought about what he was doing. If it was right. But before he could hang up, a voice answered.

“Yes?” he knew that voice. He hadn't had to use this number for years until now. Damn Marissa. She was too stubborn..

“She’s still digging,” Yosef said.

A long pause followed. Then the voice responded, cold and final.

“Fix it. Do something. Or we will.”

Click. The call ended.

Yosef stayed a bit longer in his car without even turning the heat up. He felt guilty for even being in this situation in the first place. But whatever came next, whatever would happen to her, he felt responsible for it.

I’m sorry, Mariss. He said out loud to no one.

But he didn’t go back inside.