A Wife for the Billionaire
Chapter 32: RICHARD

Chapter 32: RICHARD

It was riveting to watch the same person who in confidence had stood a bit taller, shrink into the short figure who stood in front of me now.

It felt glorious watching her once proud shoulders sag in a matter of seconds.

"Is there a problem? Does this your intuition not work on you?" I mocked.

I had her exactly where I wanted, entangled at the very center of the web with no escape route in sight.

"Of course, it works on me. Just give me some time" she answered, her right foot tapping on my wooden floors. I doubt she was even aware of the motion.

"Time," I mused, "to do what exactly, to take in your appearance or cook up what to say in the name of ’reading’"

"Neither. My reading offers no room for lying or making things up" she snapped.

"Great, so get on with it, what does your attire say about you?" I asked, leaning forward. I was really going to enjoy this.

Her eyes dropped to her outfit, and her cheeks colored in embarrassment.

"But this... isn’t what I intended to wear," she stammered, her hands on her coat.

This was too good, and I was enjoying every second immensely as I let out a chuckle that was low and mocking,

"Ah, but that’s exactly what makes it so revealing."

"I mean it, I had prepared exactly what I was supposed to wear before_"

"Let me guess," I interjected, "before your stepmom and her evil daughters ruined it, right?"

To be honest, I hadn’t really planned on offering such a retort, in fact how I came up with something so witty and comic was kinda a total shocker.

"It may not sound true, but that’s exactly what happened" she said, the surprise crystal on her face.

So I hadn’t just shot the arrow, I had also managed to hit bullseye.

"Should have known, classic Cinderella story, but I wonder what that makes me? The Prince?" I joked.

"You wish," she scoffed, "and my story may share some similarities with the story of the girl with the glass slippers, but mine has no fairy godmother, no magic, no prince, no glass slippers, no magic and definitely no happily ever after. Cinderella’s is fantasy and mine is reality" she finished.

Somehow she had taken the Cinderella metaphor at a stretch. And within, were parts of her life story that I was certain she hadn’t intended to share.

And the regret that she had shared something of such significance with me even though wrapped in a metaphor, was clear in her eyes.

Were it possible to take back those words, I’m certain she would have.

"I don’t need your pity. My life is what it is" she sneered, not meeting my gaze.

"Pity!", I scoffed, "you flatter yourself. Why would I waste such an emotion on someone like you? You don’t deserve my pity. What you thought was pity was me reminiscing on how pathetic your life is"

I don’t think what I felt as I stared at her had been pity, but even if it were, I would be the world biggest fool to admit it. So, instead I had made sure to let her know that ’pity’ was an alien word in my dictionary of emotions.

She had been hurt by my words. I could sense it, but she had once made the mistake of letting her emotions get the better part of her and knowing her even from these few minutes I’ve spent with her. She would rather eat her tongue than allow it happen... again. So, masking her hurt, she said in a voice that failed to hide her hurt,

"Back to the issue at hand, where were we? Yeah, the reading myself part"

Leaning back, I replied,

"That sounds about right"

I watched her close her eyes and exhale, and as she pried her eyes open and made to speak, I realized an error.

Her buttoned-down coat must be hiding something. A girl like her, even though she picked at my nerves, must be decent. Therefore, it was either she was hiding something lewd or she wasn’t wearing anything at all, after all she had admitted that this wasn’t what she intended to wear.

"No," I said, halting the words on her lips, "unbutton your coat, unless you are not wearing anything underneath or you don’t intend to properly read yourself_"

"Fine!" she snapped, cutting me off and yanking at her coat buttons as if they were the reason behind her rage.

"Now, that’s interesting. You really decided to wear something this lewd to an interview?" I said as I took in her cropped shirt. In spite of myself, I found my eyes lingering on her exposed skin, her perfect tummy, and pass that straw belt of hers was... her words jerked me away from such derailing thoughts.

"Like I said before, I didn’t have much of a choice on the matter. You can believe that or you believe what you want"

"Just read yourself already" I said, a tad too quickly hoping she didn’t notice my uneasiness.

Again, she took a deep breath and said,

"My attire... suggests vulnerability, a lack of control. The crop shirt and high-waisted jeans... could imply a desire for attention, or a need for validation."

She wasn’t lying when she said, her reading gave no chance for lies.

"Go on." I said, eagerly.

"But the button-down coat, knotted to cover myself... that’s a contradiction. It says I’m trying to protect myself, to hide that part that suggests irresponsibility. It’s like a bold declaration saying ’this is not who I am’"

Before I could offer a comment, she continued,

"Paired with sneaks - hint at my fashion sense, that in spite of everything I could still manage to rock the look. Wearing my hair loose, is also a bold display of how I don’t seem to care whether people like what I’m wearing or not. It’s like an affirmation, confirming my story about the ruined clothes I had planned to wear."

"Interesting." I mused,more to myself than to her. "And what do you think this

says about your current situation?"

Her eyes locked on me, she said,

"It says I’m struggling to assert myself, to find my place. But I’m determined to overcome, to prove myself. It shows my courage to deprive myself of my fashion sense, if it means getting what I want. It also hints that I could improvise and still do so with responsibility."

"And lastly," she continued, "my hand crafted belt shows individuality. It speaks of uniqueness, a difference. It’s the piece that actually says "Sofia Blake" in my entire outfit. And my faded gold earrings could mean a number of things"

"Like what?" I asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Faded dreams or aspirations: Gold represents value and ambition, but faded gold suggests diminished hopes or lost opportunities. Or it could suggest, hidden sparkle. Faded gold signifies my inner shine which is obscured, waiting to be rediscovered. It could also mean that my diminished confidence_"

"Trust me, your confidence is anything, but diminished" I interjected.

As if she hadn’t even heard me, she added,

"My faded gold dots remind me of what I’ve lost – my sense of self, my confidence. But they also whisper of what remains – resilience and hope."

Wow. I hadn’t imagined that. I didn’t even know faded gold could suggest all that.

She had read herself exactly the way anyone else would’ve. She had been honest and vulnerable, yet she had said it all. Now, as I thought over her words, I saw her expression shift as she slowly took in the depth of her words.

My attention was called as my phone screen awakened again and from where it lay on the table, I saw it was Claire yet... again.

In exasperation, I hissed then mumbled,

"What does she want with me? Can’t she just give up already"

Just then the doors swung open as Vera rushed in with the telephone on her ear, but I didn’t bother giving her a chance to speak,

"What have I told you about knocking or using the buzzer, you can’t just barge in like that. What are you, dumb? That I have to keep reminding you of these things."

"My apologies Sir, but Claire is on the line and she’s threatening to come herself if you still refuse to speak to her"

I didn’t need to be told twice, Claire was a force and though I can contend with her especially after the incident that made her lose my respect, and from ’mom’ she became just Claire. But I was in no mood to deal with her in person.

"Hello" I said dryly.

"Hello, son, I was wondering how long you intended to put me off. I guess Vera delivered my threat_"

"Get to the point, Claire. If this was about what happened earlier this morning then just apologize and I may forgive you_"

"Well, that’s part of it, but not the main reason. But I sincerely apologize for some of the things I said this morning. You should know I was only showing my motherly affection, and yes I know it can be too much a times, by the way, have

you eaten the salad?"

"No, I haven’t and I may not take a spoon of it. You know how much I hate the damned thing" I answered quickly, eager to be done with the call. I tell myself that I’ve forgiven her for the incident, but each time I hear her voice I’m always reminded of what I wish to forget.

"You know it’s for your own benefits, you need to eat healthy_" she was saying, but I couldn’t take it anymore especially once it had to do with my health.

"Can you stop already? Why must I always be reminded of the accursed situation?_"

"I’m sorry Rich, I didn’t mean to remind you of it, I just forget myself at times and my concern takes over. I didn’t mean to get you worked up before telling you this. You remember what I said in the morning about having something in the works, well I have arranged 15 successful and beautiful prospects for you to choose from?"

"Wait, you did what?! Fifteen what?!" I yelled, standing.

"Tell me you’re joking? This has to be a joke, you really can’t be serious?"

My mind raced. What was happening? Fifteen ladies for me to choose from, what in God’s name has Claire done?

"And if I refuse?" I asked even though a part of me already knew my answer.

"If you refuse, then you will have to find a way to tell the families of these girls that I made a mistake. Everything is very much still under wraps, refuse and the whole world might know what’s happening, or what almost did." she answered.

She orchestrated all this. She knew refusing wasn’t an option. I wanted to tell her that she was being cruel, that I hated her guts, but instead I said,

"You know being my mom doesn’t give you the right to dictate how things should be in my life, neither does it warrant taking such drastic steps without my prior knowledge"

"I don’t know, but I think that’s exactly what a parent should do especially if her son is a hothead who refuses to heed her words. Anyway, I gotta go, we’ll talk about this later"

"Oh I promise you, we’ll surely talk about this when I get back" and I ended the call.

"Fuck!" I yelled gripping the phone as if

I could just squash the herald of such

bad news.

As I turned, I almost lost my balance as I saw Sofia still standing there. I wager she heard everything.

"You." I pointed, "Why are you still here? How much did you hear?! Speak!" I thundered, slamming my palm on my desk, not caring one bit as the motion caused her to take a few steps back.

"Nothing of consequent, just bits that make absolutely no sense". She must’ve read my disbelief, as she added, "I swear"

I could tell she was telling the truth, but even at that she had seen me at my worst. She had witnessed Richard Wellington lose control and that... that’s a sight no one should ever see.

"Well, it doesn’t matter. You may leave

now" I said.

It wasn’t my fault. I was never going to hire her in the first place so what better thing to do than send her away, should probably have done it before answering the call.

"Wait, what?... But_"

Her disbelief was palpable and I almost felt for her. 45 minutes, I had her believe she had a chance, only for it to be a total waste of time.

"Just fucking go already! I have gotten my clerk. I don’t need you" I laced.

She jolted at my yell, and her expression was as pale as a sheet. But I didn’t care, I had more serious things to worry about. I didn’t need her, not when I had Cole Trail, who I believe will do a wonderful job when employed.

As her feet dragged to the exit, I realized that I had won. I had done exactly what I intended and some... I had mortified her, dashed her hopes and left her leaving with a tail of shame between her legs.

I wanted to feel ecstatic. To revel in my win... in my glory, but all I felt was discomfort. Discomfort at the news I just received, discomfort at the meeting about to start in less than two hours and discomfort that I had been so cruel to Sofia Blake... and that was the most dampening of them all.