THE OFFER
1173 Words
ELLA'S POV
I walked into Alpha Nickson's bedroom.
A plainly painted large room, with a gigantic king-sized bed, and a luxury chandelier.
The room was decorated with exotic paintings of all shapes and sizes.
Each painting more captivating than the last, but one stood out from the rest.
It was a portrait of a younger Nickson, probably five, or six years old.
The painting was enormous, and was placed just about the headboard.
In the photo, Nickson was wearing a tiny two-piece denim outfit.
He held a large red lollipop in his right hand. His eyes sparkled with excitement, as he stretched out his tongue to lick it, totally oblivious to the camera.
I ran my fingers along the portrait's edges, a smile tugged at the corner my lips as I recalled how sad my childhood was in comparison to his.
Letting out a small sigh, I took a seat on Nickson's king-sized bed.
The bed was soft as a baby's bottom, and smelled of lavender.
Slowly I leaned back, letting the silkiness of the sheets wash off some stress.
The bed really felt like a cotton cloud, a sharp contrast from my rock hard bed.
“One day I will live this life," I told myself glancing up at Mason's business card, clutched tightly in my fist.
I can't believe he asked that of me.
Of all the things he could possibly ask of me, why the design of my little blue dress in exchange for such a large sum.
I could still remember his words, “You are an amazing designer and I would love to do business with you, so you better give me a call."
I pressed the card to my chest, forcing the first genuine smile in years to my face.
“Mama, I will make you proud," I murmured to myself, a sense of contentment washing over me for the first time.
I heard my mom was a designer before her passing, and I had always aspired to bring her dream to reality—and now it was finally coming true.
“What are you doing in my room?" the metallic voice of a man cut through the air.
My heart skipped a beat.
Panicked, I jumped off the bed.
I turned and there he was— Nickson.
He stood at his doorpost, a frown engraved on his face.
His hair was now a little scattered.
His tuxedo coat clutched in his arms, which was now crossed over his chest.
His white shirt, now— partly unbuttoned, exposing his smooth chest.
“I asked a question. Answer immediately, or I would call the cops," He said, pulling out his cellphone from his pants pocket.
A cold sweat broke on my forehead.
“Please don't... I... I wanted," I babbled, unable to put my words together.
“You wanted??? Speak clearly I don't have all night," He announced, rolling his eyes.
He had this bored expression on his face like he was listening to a boring comedy.
“I wanted to... show you this," I announced as I took out my cellphone, playing the video recording of Anastasia's betrayal.
The video began playing and Anastasia's voice echoed from the device.
Her voice was breathy, then came Daniel's growls, followed by their combined moans.
Nick stared at me and my cracked phone screen for some time before releasing his arms.
He strided quietly towards me, snatching the phone from my grip.
He threw his tuxedo coat to the bed.
His eyes widening as he increased the brightness, fixating on the immoral s*x escapate before him.
I watched him quietly.
His face changing from nonchalance, to shock, to disbelief, to utter denial.
“Where did you get this?" He asked, his tone raspy.
I swallowed down a lump in my throat before speaking.
“I recorded it. The man in question is my boyfriend," I informed, my tone low.
A sharp pain arising in my chest as the memories resurfaced.
He raised a brow.
“You're telling me you watched them have s*x?" He asked, his tone eerie calm.
“Yes. Every second of it," I informed, a tear pricking my eyeballs.
He burst into a fit of laughter.
I froze, confused as to what was so funny.
Then suddenly—
He stopped laughing.
Sending my phone scattering across the floor.
“No," I screamed, my voice shaking as I ran to my scattered phone, trying to gather the broken pieces.
Nick didn't care, instead he furiously punched his wall.
“How could she do this to me? I gave her everything." He voiced, continuously punched the wall, until his fist bled.
“Calm down man," I said, my anger boiling over, as I tried patching together my phone.
“You expect me to calm down? That woman cheated on me," He yelled, his eyes blazing red as he gestured to himself with his blood-covered index finger.
At this point I snapped.
“And I got cheated on too, you know. He was all I had and now he is gone. Not only that, you just broke my phone, and I don't have money to get a new one," I yelled, rising to my feet.
His eyes widened in shock.
“So this is all about money for you? I should have known," He said in disbelief, a look of disdain engraved on his face. “Tell me, how much did they pay you for this stunt?"
My mouth fell ajar for a heartbeat, before I regained my composure.
“No one paid me."
“Oh! So you paid yourself then. What for? So you could break up my engagement with Anastasia? Anastasia is the one I love and nothing can change that," He declared, his tone filled with agitation.
I rolled my eyes.
Of course, how could I forget?
Nickson was nothing but a pretty vase, fragile, and empty.
A knot twisted in my chest. I still liked Nickson, so seeing him this in love with another really hurt.
I pinched onto my nose bridge, calming myself before speaking.
“Look, I have absolutely no interest in whatever is going on between you and that Anastasia chick. All I know is, I want revenge, and you are going to help me achieve it," I informed, my voice stern.
He shook his head disapprovingly.
“You're insane. How do you think we are going to achieve your so-called revenge?" He asked with an unimpressed expression.
I let out a deep breath, unsure of how to go about this.
I had calculated everything but making such a request to a man I just met feels a little dirty.
“Ella this is not the time to play chicken. You can do this," My subconscious encouraged.
I glanced back at Nickson, whose eyes were now fixed on my face.
He had an expectant expression on his face, he stood there in a silence.
I let out a deep breathe before speaking.
“Let's have s*x," I suggested and his mouth fell open.
- Writer
