A Wife for the Billionaire
Chapter 111: SOFIA

Chapter 111: SOFIA

It’s true that life has never been fair.

And that I’ve never allowed myself to really believe that one day, mine would ever be.

But...

Nothing as ever summarized my life, or at least what the rest of it would look like, as those words uttered by Richard.

And by God, I hated that he was right. That his words were so true that it paralyzed me. I just couldn’t move a step. Believe me, I wanted to. More than anything, I wanted to leave the damned office and never ever return, until... he said those words.

Richard Wellington is cruel.

And that fact has never been obscured. In fact, he ’himself’ boasts of the trait like it’s something to be proud of. And I guess he’s better than most. Hypocrites who go about claiming that they are good, whereas they are no better than those publicly labeled evil.

But what I couldn’t wrap my head around in that moment of temporary paralysis, was if he said those words out of cruelty, pity or simply his desperation?

Time seemed to slow in that moment as those words held me impaled. My physical body may have been paralyzed, but my inner organs still worked perfectly. My heart still thrummed its agonizing beats. My blood still coursed in its paths. My mind still spun and weaved thoughts that created threads of tears that ran down the fabric of my cheeks.

It was as if in that moment, everything I had been running away from, caught up with me. Holding me firm with his words, and overwhelming me beyond control.

Then like a wave, my paralysis passed. Washing away, but the foams of its effect still linger on. Turning to Richard, I said, my eyes not even close to dryness,

"Screw you, Richard. Screw you"

He said nothing. Just raised his hands as if in acknowledgement.

I wasn’t really angry with him, it was more like I was angry at him for being so damn right.

I couldn’t even leave. That option was no longer available. But staying would only prove to him that he was right and that would fuel his ego. I wanted to hear what he had to say, but with those words of his, and the effect it had on me that I hadn’t managed to hide, he wasn’t going to make it easy.

But there was not really much left to lose. He had seen me at my worst and hiding or trying to prove that he didn’t would only be exhausting. And I was tired as fuck.

Mustering the last bit of dignity I had, I wiped my tears, raised my head high, met his eyes and said,

"You have my attention, so tell me what you think I will regret a few years from now"

He gave me a look that came close to admiration. Or perhaps I read it wrong, for him, it wasn’t always plain or easy. If anything, he remains one of my toughest reads... yet.

"Why don’t you take a seat while I explain" he offered, gesturing to the seat where I had sat and risen twice already.

"No thanks, I’d rather stand" was my response. My voice was shaky, but it rang true.

With a sigh, he began,

"I will be honest with you, because if this is going to work. Which I’m hoping it will, we have to trust each other in spite of the fact that we clearly can’t stand each other. The PA job is only a cover, a front for what I really want from you."

He paused to read my expression, and I hoped my curiosity didn’t betray my attempt at stolidity.

His nonchalant shrug before he continued, meant I had betrayed nothing and I inwardly applauded myself for handling the situation well, even when I was dying to know what he was arriving at.

"Erm," he stretched his arms on the desk, "I want you to be a judge in this selection process, like another set of eyes to point out things I might not see and another opinion to access these characters. Of course, you will also meet the job criteria for a personal assistant so people won’t suspect anything, but I promise I will make it worth your while. So, what do you say?"

It was too much. Almost too good to be true. It felt like a plot, a ploy. I stared at me, accessing him for any signs of betrayal or lies. His face as he stared back offered no clue. Even his dark pools betrayed nothing.

So, I tried to dig deeper. I tried to read him. His dark violet suit still fitted him perfectly, but as I really looked, I saw that it hung awkwardly on his right shoulder, because he wasn’t relaxed. The fabric also bore more creases on the right arm compared to the left. His ringed finger on his right palm also fidgeted, slightly, almost indiscernible. And in spite of the chill of the air conditioner, the rim of his collar subtly held signs of perspiration.

He was nervous, and there would have been no need for that if he was lying.

"Wait," he called, pulling his lapels as if in an attempt to stop me from looking at him, "are you reading me?"

There was no need to lie. He may be incredibly good at hiding his emotions both in expressions and body language, but the clothes, the fabrics never lie.

"Would you blame me?" I threw back.

Turning his chair askew, away from my scrutiny, he nodded in agreement,

"That’s understandable, a deliberate invasion of privacy, but nonetheless, understandable"

"Oh come off it, what did you expect, you offer me this too good of an offer and you expect me to just believe it’s... simply perfect"

"No, I don’t actually" he quickly offered, "but I thought you said that you didn’t read people against their will, and even if you felt that you had to, a little heads up would have been appreciated rather than undressing me emotionally with your eyes"

"Don’t worry, you are excellent at conceding your emotions, and somehow you’ve also adapted that in the manner of how you wear your clothes. Suffice to say, it was hard reading you and harder still trying to figure out what the little I was able to discern meant. But I’m not going to apologize for making use of an advantage at my disposal. Heaven knows, the lot of you do it all the time with your privileges, and were you in my shoes, I have no doubt you would have done exactly the same"

He stood, coming to sit at the edge of his desk. I knew it was a power play. Appearing before me in full length, as if he wasn’t afraid if I read him again. It was a bluff, but a good one. A confident one.

"Excellent, you say, and yet you were able to discern little, if you are to be believed of course. I don’t know, but that doesn’t sound ’excellent’ to me, I will have to work harder on my clothes and mannerism shields, so that you can’t read anything at all" he pronounced.

Of course, he was threatened by my stare, but too proud to acknowledge that. This attempt at proving to me that he wasn’t, may work on others, but not me. He was truly an exceptional actor, and a master in the act of masking his emotions. But the small wet dent on his brown soaks gave him away, he was sweating under my gaze even though he matched my gaze with an ironclad expression.

"You are doing a good job already," I commented, "I don’t doubt that with a few more practice, you will practically be unreadable"

Folding his arms, he said,

"Don’t patronize me"

"Quite the contrary, with others I hardly have to strain to see what their clothes and the way they wear them reflect their emotions. But in your case, I have to try harder, look beyond the layers to see what I want to, and even that is subject to sudden change thereby confusing me and forcing me to try harder. It’s exhausting and quite frankly, time consuming"

His allowed his lips quirk to a smirk, then he said,

"It’s good that I’m that good, because I will be needing those defenses if you are going to be working for me, marking me as your object of constant scrutiny and a challenge for your ability. But that’s actually one of the reasons why I deemed you worthy of this position. With your reading, you can see what these ladies hide underneath their makeup and layers of attires. Which reminds me, you are yet to provide an answer to that effect?"

"Let’s get this clear, are you saying that you need me?" I goaded.

Shifting his weight, he said,

"Glad you asked that question. I don’t need you, Sofia Blake. I don’t even think I’ve ever needed anyone, and now, most certainly not a wife. I only need the services these people can offer, services I made sure to duly compensate"

Practical Richard Wellington response. Great to know that this is nothing, but a business transaction.

Except that I didn’t know if I was willing to do business with him. I mean...

My thoughts were interrupted as he said,

"You don’t have to answer now, at least not before you review a few documents containing the details of this agreement, the terms and conditions, and of course, the benefits"

Turning slightly, he finger-punched a key on his keyboard and said,

"Be a darling and fetch that from the printer"

With the sound of documents being printed, I knew with inexplicable uneasiness that this was very real and happening way too fast.