Driven To You

Chapter 2 : The usual

*Sophia's POV*

Things like this, I could even say everything that is associated with it, I simply despise. The glamor, the glitter, the supremely artificial expressions, the concerned faces— all these are the things I do not relish one bit. Everyone here is after something from me, be it my attention, my laptop, my contacts, or my father's money. They are all one in the same and I am so worn out by them. Still, it is I, who is walking down yet another corridor of yet another posh place, my heels sharply clacking against the marble floor in a cruel reminder perhaps that this is my life— full of demands and people with their hands out wanting something. At all these some point, there was no way I could ignore the presence of Michael, who was my driver and had been following me like a yonder shadow.

Michael. I barely even wanted to think of him. He was as well simply one of the many other men, tamed or untamed, he was right? The many Ian’s wives and children the rest were, doing his work and behaving like a non entity. But for some strange reason, he was always in my space. He stood too close, did things too slow as if he does not understand I was do busy waiting for him. He was supposed to be my servant anyway wasn’t he? What challenge did he have that made him treat me differently from anyone else in the universe?

I turned my head for a moment to attempt to meet his eyes and slightly squinted them as I do so. He was walking a few steps behind, no doubt. Quiet. Dull. Until today.

“Mikhail,” I said, almost imperatively. “Why are you idling there? Walk.”

He didn’t react. Not even a twitch to indicate he heard her. Just that infuriatingly placid face that somehow irritated me more than anything else. His steady mask of indifference, which revealed no emotions whatsoever. His emotions sponge. His very demeanor towards all the onslaughts I leveled on him.

I faced the front again, feeling the all-too-welcoming tinge of annoyance. Why is it that no one ever gets it? And why did the specific him seem to be the one with the most resolve to ignore me? How could he be my chauffer for years—my chauffeur—and act as though he was doing me some great favor? It was infuriating.

Once we entered the premises of the event, my gaze scanned the room. A multitude of men filled the space; all of them hungry for me, each ever so sleeker than the previous one. And I knew what they were peddling. The same bullshit of money, status and power. I was that cake and they couldn’t even pretend otherwise.

I recognized Alexander on the other side of the hall. He was standing with some investors looking well turned out and business-like, just the perfect man I was meant to marry. He had that beautiful smile on, quite upright and from him I could sense the type of aura that I was told was ideal for someone of my class. In the background I noted my mother-Rosalind- stares at me encouragingly, pushing me towards Alexander.

But that was not in my personal agenda. That and most especially none of this.

So, instead I flipped around and walked away towards the balcony. I heard my irritatingly loud high heel shoes clinking against the polished floor as I walked away, and I sensed Michael’s footsteps quietly following a distance behind me. I attempted to tune him out. He was always there; always trailing me and biding his time for me to call him.

I pushed the balcony doors open with all force, the cold air met my face with a contrast that was both inviting and striking. I needed some time. I needed to be away from people’s faces for a few minutes.

Of course, the moment I emerged from the inside out, I spotted him. Michael, by the door as if he had been expecting me. Very much so, he remained true to his characteristic self. He did not understand the concept of keeping out of my path.

“I didn’t ask for your intrusion,” I snapped, every word drilling through my irritability. “I didn’t need you to stalk me, Michael. Are you that much of an i***t? Leave me alone for once.”

Michael did not respond naturally. Why would he? He doesn’t do that. He simply moved to lean against the doorjamb, dismissive of the impact of my utterances even if it were not to him. He didn’t budge. He didn’t even turn his gaze on me. He was simply… there. And I despised that.

I loathed that he appeared so composed. So unbothered.

“Don’t you get tired of being this… so this flawless?” I threw back heatedly, my voice raising without any attempt to control it. “Why do you have to be so composed? Can you pretend to be a sane human being for once? Why is there no feeling from you? I’m sure you can react. I want to see something. That’s all.”

He continued to remain mum and it was that quietness that nearly drove me over the edge. He stayed there indifferent as if it was all inconsequential. As if I was inconsequential.

I wanted him to speak, reply with something to help me from feeling like the crazy one in the room. But, of course, he didn’t. He never did.

“Well,” I hissed, looking away and shaking my head in bafflement. “I guess that’s because you think you are beyond it all. Beyond me. Beyond all this really. Well, perhaps it is time you relax, lie low for a time, or even go somewhere else far away from mine where you won’t have to face me.”

Still nothing.

“Just... say something, Michael. You don’t have to be such a perfectionist all the time. You can get angry. It doesn’t matter; this matters. I matter.” I could hear the bite in my voice, heard how the words carried all the frustration I felt but still, he was unfazed.

I looked at him in silence. Still, he didn’t even blink.

After a few seconds, I looked away and went back to the balcony railing, instead looking out the city. It was pretty, but all the thoughts I had were about the heaviness of it all. The heaviness of expectations. Of all the people around me who wanted to reshape me, redesign me, and rule me.

I had no idea what I was looking for. A cue, perhaps. Something to change the atmosphere. Something to ease the constriction all around my chest. But instead, I only heard him.

“I’m simply trying to do my job, Miss Everly,” he said quietly to me, his voice even softer now.

I turned around immediately, pinpointing daggers towards him for his insolence. “Your job?” I asked, incredulous. “Your job is to obey me. And if I ask you to speak, you will speak. There isn’t standing in one place with a blank look looking as if you do not care.”

His face did not change. “I’m just doing my job.”

I balled my fists, feeling the rage inside of me growing. Who does he think he is? How can he give up control over himself and make me feel as if I was a problem? It was wrong. He was meant to just drive me along, catering to my needs, and nothing else. And here he was, standing unfazed by everything that I said.

For a slight second, there was something in me that resembled a feeling I could not quite put a name to. It also disappeared as fast as it had appeared. I decided to take control of the situation. Let him not have his way with me.

I turned away and walked back inside the house, lifting my chin up defiantly, but the annoyance still lingered.

Michael was still there, as always, standing in silence in a corner. He was always there. Watching her every move. Waiting. And I hated him for it.