A Wife for the Billionaire
Chapter 62: SOFIA

Chapter 62: SOFIA

I stood with my hands piled behind me in submission of a servant by the dining table while Alicia and her daughters ate breakfast.

Alicia’s gaze kept sweeping the room, she was looking for a flaw. Anything at all to begin her day with me as a topic.

"Don’t just stand there, go and find something to do. Don’t think finishing your duties last night gives you the liberty of standing around idle" she lashed.

"I... um... I have something to ask of you, Ma"

How I abhorred this pitiful act of being the servant. Toning down my voice so it doesn’t out tone hers.

Yeah, Alicia did that. She measured tones. Whenever she’s speaking with any of the servants, we are all expected not to out tone her.

We were meant to listen to her, identify her tone and make sure our response is in a lesser tone, or else, one had to go completely mute for a week depending on how high the tone was.

It’s absurd, but that’s the thing with staying in power. Anything... anything at all no matter how basic, insane or absurd is done to make sure those under know of their place, to ensure and maintain submissiveness.

"You know the drill, or should I remind you?" Alicia asked, running her manicured nail on the tip of her teacup.

Most times, I wonder how she does it. I mean, the bitch came home around 1am drunk and now at 7am, it’s as if that person who had kissed a man goodnight before staggering inside was a faux. This person in front of me looked every inch like the cold hearted bitch I’ve been dealing with for more than 13 years now.

She donned a pink dress suit with hibiscus - the fascinator I had designed, even named, its petals shadowing her right eye. Her hair was pulled tight to a bun and her lips were glossed pink.

Pink has always been a subtle color. The color of princesses and fairy tales, but there was nothing subtle about Alicia in pink. If anything, she looked more menacing, like the pink was a coat of sweetness hiding the evil and dark side she possessed.

"Were you reading me?" She asked, tilting her head up so she looked at me without obstruction from the fascinator.

"Of course not," I lied, "it’s just that what I want to ask of you isn’t really that much to observe the usual routine".

"I see" she breathed, her eyes still fixed on me and I really wondered if she did see.

"Mama, it seems Sofy has forgotten the drill" Annabel said, licking her honey coated fork.

Before Alicia could reply her daughter, I offered, sinking to my knees,

"I really haven’t forgotten, I swear."

"Good, now what is it? And for your sake I hope you really ask right"

She took a sip.

She enjoyed this. Reminding me of who held the power. Keeping me in my place.

Against the contradiction of every nerve in my body, I piled my hands in form of a plea, toned down my voice to a meek whisper and said,

"Please Ma, I ask that you allow me to go in search of a job today. In the period of attending to my duties, I thought long and hard about it and you are right, I should know my place. I should keep my head low and that’s why I would try to reach out to Charlie to see if that job offer is still on the table. That’s if you allow it of course."

Her pink lips stretched in a smile, revealing her diastematic white teeth.

It was a sign. I had done well. I had asked, no, begged properly. But it wasn’t a certain determiner for an optimistic response. Alicia was just like Richard and he was just as other privileged pricks out there, who revelled in humiliating people like me and afterwards still say no.

She clapped her hands, reclined on the floral dining chair, and said,

"Finally, you’ve learnt of your place. You must understand, it doesn’t give me joy that after how well you did in school, you ended up as a cleaner, but that’s how life is and we are mere pawns on the black and white board."

Standing after checking to see if her lipstick was in any way smudged by the tea and satisfied. She added,

"You are free to go and claim that job and if it has been taken, look elsewhere. I would have sacked one of my cleaners, and hired you, but you know I can’t stand you and most of my colleagues think you’re my maid so it would be awkward if you came to work for me."

"I totally understand, ma’am" I bobbed my head in response.

"Off to work, girls and remember as the both of you have been selected by Claire Wellington, all your moves would be watched, so please don’t embarrass me"

"Mama!" They shrieked. It was a first for Alicia to say something like that to her girls.

But what was she talking about? Selected? Claire Wellington? Wasn’t that Richard’s mom? Why had she selected the twins?

"Hush girls, this is a huge opportunity and one of you must marry Richard, you simply have to. So, please try not to embarrass me"

"Mama!"

"I mean it. Felix call my driver"

I stood as she brushed past me, heading for the door.

A few minutes later, Annabel and Mirabel rose and left. They were still attending drama and acting Workshops,

They both wanted to be actresses.

I had spent the night attending to my duties and also learning as much as I could about Anna Wintour. Yeah, she had been my boss and there was little I knew about her.

I wanted to prove Alicia wrong. I wanted to prove life wrong. I couldn’t end up as a cleaner or a waitress, I wanted more. I had to be more.

If I manage to convince Anna, it would cost Cole his job, but it would save Harry’s and also land me a job.

It would have been easier if Anna still owed me, but that letter of recommendation she had written for me was, according to her, ’an even’.

During my internship days, I had done what most people never attempted, I dared get close to Anna Wintour, the Editor-in-Chief.

People feared her. She was harsh. And she carried herself like she didn’t give a damn about anyone.

One look at her on my first day, one read and I had known. That was just a defense mechanism, in a world where men were respected in such positions, Anna had to try harder to be respected even if it meant being feared.

Like everyone else, I had avoided her. I stayed out of her way, but each read everyday felt like a cry for help. She hated what she wore, she despised her attires, but she had to wear them.

I remember that in other places, it was usually men that were Editors-in-Chief. Anna had to work her ass off to be recognized, to be elevated to such a position and to maintain being the first ever New City Bogue Editor-in-Chief, she had to work even harder.

I recall the day I summoned the courage to tell her, she had dressed in her usual suit and skirt. The very attire she despised.

I had been told to go retrieve a magazine from her. She as the Editor-in-Chief approved the print of magazines and I kinda volunteered to go retrieve that week’s issue from her.

She had been on the phone when I came in. I had to wait for more than thirty minutes as she talked her way into convincing her bosses to allow her publish a trending gossip about a designer in the latest column.

"Those bastards!" She had yelled, slamming the telephone into place.

She had convinced them, but she hated that she needed their approval in the first place to publish stories.

"What the hell are you standing there for, speak what you need?" She snapped at me.

"Sorry ma, I just need the approved issue for this week’s print"

Without looking at me, she flung the magazine at me. I had scrambled to catch it, but couldn’t as it clattered to the floor.

"Typical, clumsy as shit" she muttered, her eyes on her laptop.

One could say, Richard wasn’t the only one I dared speak up to, I think Anna was actually the first person I ever tried

it with.

"Why do you do it?" I asked her, retrieving the issue.

"Why do you keep wearing that?" I repeated when she had pretended not to hear me the first time.

"Bitch, you better watch your mouth" she sneered, pointing at me with her red manicured finger.

I knew then that my internship could be dissolved by her. I knew what was at stake and yet I went on.

"No offense ma, but I have been watching you for a while now and I know you hate wearing those. I know your harshness is merely a defense mechanism to incite respect. I can’t even begin to imagine the stress you must be under as New City Bogue first woman Editor-in-Chief, but you really don’t have to change yourself and your style because of the position. I have heard of the styles you rocked back when you hadn’t been promoted and how kind you were, if I’m not wrong, those qualities brought you this promotion and it just seems unfair to those who supported you how you treat them now."

She sat stunned speechless, her finger pointing at me wavering until it dropped as she slammed her palm on her glass desk.

She rose and stalked towards me. I was wet-myself scared, but I hid it daring to meet her gaze. We stood like that, daring each other in an eye locked battle, until she walked away.

I remember rubbing at my tears due to prolonged eye contact without blinking.

"Is it really that obvious?" She asked, holding her suit jacket as emphasis.

"No, it isn’t. I mean you rock the outfit like a boss, but I can tell it’s not your style. You are more like the ’Boss Bitch’ in it than yourself. No offense."

"None taken," she sat at the edge of her desk and continued, "you know I used to be like you, fearless and outspoken, but ever since this promotion, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m now always eager to please them, because I don’t want them to take it away from me and I dress like this and treat people that way because women in my position don’t easily get respect, we have to command it. Blasted way of the world"

"Yeah that’s unfair to us, but you are doing more than commanding respect now. You are inciting fear and those who loved and supported you, hate you now even if they are too afraid to say it to your face"

"And you are not?" She teased.

"I don’t hate you ma, I adore you actually. I hope to achieve such success as you have, one day. And I want you to remain true to yourself while being the boss, not allowing pressure and labels dictate how you dress and the way you should treat people."

"What’s your name? And what’s your position here?"

"Sofia. Sofia Blake, I’m an intern." I answered, surprised by the turn of events. I had genuinely expected the opposite of everything she had done and said so far.

"Sofia, I guess I owe you one. Now please, don’t ever lose that, your fearlessness and outspokenness, I mean. The world needs more women like you. You may go now."

Guess what, she showed up the next day in a tailored black jumpsuit, a statement gold belt, low-heeled ankle boots, simple, elegant necklace and a Chanel handbag.

Looking at her, I could only read "I’m a Boss Bitch, but I’m not a bitch". And her bearing that morning showed it. She responded to greetings, smiled, waved and inquired of her workers’ families and personal lives.

That year, I remember she won the ’Bogue Editor-in-Chief of the Year’ and she didn’t hesitate in writing me a high profile recommendation letter when I was about to leave.

And today, I planned to ask another favor of her, one that I hope would save and secure my future and that of Harry’s.