A Wife for the Billionaire
Chapter 27: SOFIA

Chapter 27: SOFIA

There’s this saying that when one becomes time conscious, time in essence becomes conscious of the person. Yeah I know, it sounds cheesy.

But as I became conscious of every second that passed in silence, each second dragged as if it knew that I was counting.

Richard himself knew that I was waiting, he knew that I was expecting his next words, that my future hinged on it and so he stalled.

I wasn’t really surprised, I knew he was petty and my words must’ve struck a chord. It was obvious from the way he was staring at me that he wasn’t used to being spoken to like I just did.

He stared at me like a tiger waiting to pounce on a prey. His dark pools glazed

with hate.

The intensity of his gaze was like hot coals burning me where I stood. I shifted from foot to foot, careful not to allow my motion to squeak across the surface of the polished maple floors, like the very ground I was standing on was molten rock.

His gaze wasn’t just because of the way I spoke to him. It was also because I had somehow maneuvered through every plan he had to humiliate me.

Yet I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t pissed. The guy was annoying, his serenity, his tone, his face, everything about him just irritates me.

The saying about never meeting one’s hero was hundred percent right. Standing in front of this guy I had once reverenced and saw as a source of inspiration, I was simply disappointed.

He was the exact opposite of everything I thought he was. And the most annoying part of it was that he didn’t even care. It was like his body was made of armor that just deflected every negative thought or saying aimed at him.

My breath caught as I saw him open his mouth to speak, finally. A mixture of dread towering like a great wave made to drown out that modicum of hope that was seeded in my heart.

"There are others with a masters in office management and other clerk-related courses. With recommendations from the highest publication companies in the city. Your qualifications and recommendations may make you overqualified for the job, but at the same time make you unqualified. My true question is what is it about you that you think we need in Wellington?"

This was in no way close to my thousandth guess of what he would say. What I had expected him to say was stretched between two kens, acceptance for the job or denial sharpened by the chisel of scorn. And I imagined several phrases and statements he could use to either land the killing blow or suck the breath out of me.

Regardless I made to answer immediately, then decided against it to properly ponder his question first. There was something about that question that seemed to say,

"Answer correctly and this could be your chance"

But if this was actually to be my chance, there was something else I needed to do. A necessity to make sure nothing could ruin my chances.

"Before I answer your question, can I say something first?" I asked.

"You never needed my permission before, so why the fuck do you need it now? he laced.

His intention was to make everything hell for me. Here I was, looking to apologize and he was still trying to vex and abash me.

"I... I’m... I" I found myself stuttering, clearly finding it hard to say what I needed to say.

It was there, I could feel it on the tip of my tongue and yet my lips wouldn’t form the words.

"My, my, my. The outspoken Sofia

Blake, suddenly at loss with words. I’ll

be damned" he teased.

"I’m not at loss with words, I just don’t know how to say this, I... I am um... oh fuck it, I’m sorry. There I said it, isn’t that what you want to hear?" I asked in exasperation.

His grin stretched a few inches more. He had anticipated this and he was enjoying every second of it.

"Sorry for what exactly?," he asked, still grinning, "Being a bitch? Barging into my office? Talking trash? Disrespecting me? Or for telling me to die in the elevator? Which are you really apologizing for?"

By God! He’s impossible. Couldn’t he just suck up the apology, must he make everything difficult? On one hand, I was really pissed and on the other, I didn’t want to offer a retort, especially one that would make me apologize again.

Clenching my teeth, I said,

"I apologize for everything, especially for the things I said in the elevator. I was just mad at my stepmom and her daughters and I took it out on the wrong person"

"All that time in the boardroom and that was what you could come up with? How basic" he chuckled.

Arrrgh! That was it. He had gone way too far. My hands folded into fists, curling and uncurling as I fought on whether to let that statement slide or...

I think I’ve said this before, and even at that I must repeat it. In life there are people who are inherently born with temperament and there are those like me whose circumstances and trials of life turn into an apoplectic. It doesn’t happen like one day, you are calm and the next you are an inferno. It takes time, it builds. Every insult, every tear, every curse, every whip of that privilege are bricks piling up the walls of lividity.

And I think his words just added the last brick to finish up the walls.

"You know what? I don’t think I’m sorry. To be honest, I don’t think I said anything wrong. If there should be anyone apologizing, it should be you. Here I am trying to be reasonable, only for you to find my dilemma funny and think it all made up" I fumed, mad as hell.

If he was intimidated by my rage, he didn’t show it. Instead, he reclined on his chair, clearly pleased with himself.

"There she is. I was beginning to wonder where you disappeared to." he joked, happy to have taken me back to saying things I’m sure to regret later.

"You are sick." I said, digging my nails into the leather cushion, "So you actually think this is all some kind of comedy. That my life is a joke to laugh about?"

"Well, I don’t know, but is it though?" he purred.

"God! I’m stupid. To even think that someone like you deserves my apology. You know what? I knew you would never in your twisted mind give me the job, but I had planned to come in here and apologize. To make sure things were cool between us, but clearly even that had been a mistake" I stormed.

He was enjoying this beyond words. It was written all over his face. Seeing me like this, all cherry and vexed was exactly what he planned. I was falling straight into his hands, into his twisted games, but I didn’t care one bit.

"You’ve got guts, I will give you that. Coming in here and thinking that an apology will be enough to wipe or make me forget those shit you spouted in the elevator. I’ll have you know that no one has ever spoken to me in that manner before, not even my parents. So, you see why I just can’t forget, don’t you?" he said, the honesty behind those words like a hurl of brick straight to my heart.

"Actually I don’t," I returned, "maybe what you need is more people in your life who will speak to you in that manner. Perhaps then, you will realize that there’s nothing special about you... nothing at all."

And with those words, I felt like I had evened the score. I saw it in his darkened expression, I just struck yet another chord.

But while I still stumbled to get a grip on my rage, he was an expert. Like putting off a mask and donning another, I watched as his expression changed, his features returned back to that grinning mask I just couldn’t stand.

"There’s nothing special about me, you say and yet I’m here and you are there. I even recall you saying you had once considered me ’a no special being’ as a mentor and I wonder what that makes you, simply stupid or a terrible judge of character?"

He was trying to turn the tables, using my own words to do it. But I was learning, he may not realize it, but he was teaching me to do the same. To master the ability of vexing the vexer.

"Neither" I answered immediately, "considering you a mentor had nothing to do with you as a person and more of what you could do. Besides that was in the past, and I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent judge of character. Too good perhaps and unlike you, that’s my specialty. I can simply look at someone, analyze their attire and know exactly the type of person he/she is. I think that’s your answer to that question you had asked earlier on"

Flaunting my fashion intuition like that wasn’t what I intended, but in this war between us, anything could be an asset.

"You know, for someone who can’t stand my pride, you should probably take a look in the mirror," he mused, leaning towards me.

I knew he would take that hint, that he would plunge that arrow from mid air and release it back to me. But knowing also means being ready to dodge.

"Oh, I’m nothing like you," I countered, "and I assure you I will never be, even if circumstances had been different."

"Care to elaborate?"

"For starters, I will never be caught doing that act you were indulging in minutes ago_"

"By that, what do you mean exactly, that you will do better in seclusiveness?" he interjected.

"Eww, you are so gross" and he laughed. A deep mirthful sound that I found myself liking. In that rare moment, he sounded truly happy and his features couldn’t have been more alluring.

"Do go on," he said after laughing.

"Secondly, I will treat people better especially those I work with_"

"And now you sound like my father, but continue"

"Take for instance, that man who tried to approach you in the hallway, had it been me, I would have handled that situation differently. Like schedule a time to see him or something rather than dismissing him like that as if he hadn’t been waiting all morning. Then Vera, would it really have killed you if you tried to pace her stride? And lastly, I would surely come to work on time" I finished.

Saying things like that could plant a seed of change in one’s heart. Especially one who a fraction of him wants change, but not the barren lands of Richard Wellington’s heart.

Flinging my words aside like they meant nothing, he said,

"Well, thank gracious I’m not you and you’re not me. Though I doubt you would want to be me if you knew exactly what it entails. Anyway, this specialty you say you have, can you prove it?"

I doubt that. That was what I had wanted to say, how could he even think the drama in his life was anything like mine. Gladly would I exchange the caprices of my life for his... whatever they were. Besides, how bad could they be?

But dangling my specialty before me like a parcel of meat before a dog, I lounged instead.

"Who do you want me to read?" I asked, taking the meat.