Midday Seduction

Chapter4. Anonymous

Regan's Point of View

I paced back and forth, my knuckles clenched, my mind stuck in a labyrinth of different thoughts.

“What was she doing here?” I muttered, frustration evident in the tone of my voice.

I tried to get my mind focused on the office. My eyes scanned around, falling on the beautiful artworks, but none of it seemed to drift my mind off the thought.

“Was she here to sabotage my company?” I mumbled, exhaling as I sank into my chair.

I rummaged through the drawer, dragging out my phone, my fingers running on the screen as I typed Tony's digits.

“Regan speaking,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“Oh, my man. What's good?” he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

My lips parted and warm breath escaped through them.

“Yeah, about yesterday,” I began, but before I could finish my statement, he cut in.

“Yesterday was fun. I wanted to check on you when you moved into the suite with that lady, yeah? The sounds I…”

“Save the story for another day, will you?” I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended.

“What’s wrong? You don't seem alright,” a mixture of curiosity and worry laced in his voice.

“Because I'm not. I'm actually stuck with something,” I admitted, my eyes falling on the molded artwork which stood tall.

“Hit me, Regie,” he said. “I’m all ears.”

The name somewhat got on my nerves, but I held my peace. I have warned him over and over again to stop calling me names, but he refused to back down.

“So, I will take over the new company and meet my secretary. Guess who, Tony?” I asked, standing on my feet and moving to the window, beholding the bustling city below.

“You know I ain't good with guesses,” he scoffed.

“I met the girl I had a one-night stand with,” I blurted out, embarrassment flushing down my cheeks.

“What? You serious now?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Damn serious, Tony. I couldn't believe my eyes,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Aside from our voices, the rustle of my fabric punctuated the air.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked, anticipating a positive reply.

“I haven't figured that out yet. I can't just sack her; they'll get suspicious,” I hissed loudly.

Sacking her would arouse suspicion, and I might get asked by the press if I did.

“Just like the old ways, threaten her and make the working atmosphere difficult for her so that she would resign,” he said, a mischievous laugh escaping his lips.

Just then, an idea hit me. A wicked grin ran across my face. Making work unbearable for her would do just good, and she would have no option but to resign.

“You are such a genius, Tony,” I complimented. “Speak with you some other time,” I said, hanging up the call.

A few hours later, work time was over. From my office, I could see my workers leaving the office. My brow raised high as I saw her. Unlike others, she didn't move with anybody; she was just alone, like an assassin.

Just then, the buzzing of my phone sliced through the atmosphere. I reached for my pocket and dragged the phone out. It was a text message from an anonymous messenger.

“Who is this?” I mumbled, clicking the message box to read the content.

My breath caught in my throat as I read the message aloud,

“Regan, running away from the league would do you no good. We are gonna find you, and make life unbearable for you. The war just began.” My eyes widened, fear creeping down my spine.

“Holy s**t,” I groaned, a twinge of annoyance in my voice.

I wasn't armed to take them out. Without hesitation, I grabbed my briefcase, my grip firm, and walked into the elevator, taking a deep breath.

The elevator descended slowly until it got to the first floor and opened. I walked out of the elevator, the sound of my shoes echoing off the marble floor, my gaze darting around the offices as I scanned them, checking if they had sent assassins to trail me.

A satisfying smile crept across my lips as I climbed into my ride. My lips parted and warm breath escaped from them.

“They got nothing on me,” I whispered assuredly, the sound of the revving of my engine slicing through the atmosphere as I pulled out from the parking slot.

I strode into my house, which was bustling with activities. The smell of the freshly plucked rose flowers wafted and dominated the atmosphere, the sunlight streaming down the Italian window, casting its rays on the artworks.

As I moved further, my steps echoed off the hardwood floor, the soft rustling of the fabric of my expensive suit the only sound that punctuated the air.

The dining room was poorly illuminated by the chandelier which hung on the ceiling, casting soft rainbow colors on the floor beneath.

I climbed into my bathtub, turning on the shower and allowing it to wash out the day's exhaustion, my mind reeling in thought.

After I was done showering, I walked into my room. The large window permitted the rays of the moon to fall on the bed, creating a more magnificent view.

“Alexa, play me some soft music for the night,” I ordered, sinking onto my soft mattress. I found that listening to soft music reduced the risk of having nightmares. Slowly, my eyelids grew heavy and closed together, the music acting as a guideway to the world of peace and unconsciousness.

********

Grrr!

The shrill beeping of the alarm jolted me up from the bed. It was morning. I woke up with a start, got dressed in a silky Hawaiian-designed shirt and a pair of trousers, making me look a little casual.

“You own the day,” I replied to my reflection before throwing my shades on and driving out of the house.

I got to the office early enough and sat on the chair, attending to the files which were neatly arranged on my table, the thought of Emily still lingering in my mind. I got a phone call from security. He said the press wanted to interview me, but I waved it off and instructed him to halt their movement.

After what seemed like two hours, I commanded her to see me in my office.

“Come in,” I said to the person knocking on my door. The door quietly opened as she stepped in. I could feel anger ravaging my heart as I stared at her. I needed to maintain composure.

Her face graced the ground, and again, I found my eyes running over her body, the thought of the night stand trying to overwhelm me. I brushed it aside, my face grim as I stood.

“You called for me, sir?” she asked, slightly trembling.

Being cold personality not only made me strong, it enhanced my abilities to perceive fear in people, which gladdened my soul.

“Yes, I did,” I scoffed, as I traced my steps to her and leaned closer to her. My breath washed over her skin. She moved back a little, sweat dripping down her temples.

“You remember Tuesday night, don't you?” I asked, my voice hoarse as she leaned against the pillar with no route to escape.

“I…I don't know what you're saying,” she replied, her voice quavering.

I leaned even closer, my lips a few inches from hers as my eyes pierced into hers. I could see and smell the fear on her face as it was pale, and her lips trembled. Every sign sent darts of excitement down my spine.

“Mention that to no one. You have two choices, Emily. Leave this work and never return, or,” I scoffed, pausing a little bit, “stay and watch me ruin your life. What's it gonna be, Emily Wilson?” I asked.

Her pink lips formed as if she wanted to say a word. Just then, the door flung open,

revealing the press, their cameras rolling.

“What the heck?” I yelled, my eyes widened as the realization hit me.