Lust in Ecstasy: Love, Lies and Revenge
Chapter 43: Meeting Mr Savage.

Chapter 43: Meeting Mr Savage.

Eric didn’t move right away. He just sat there, hands gripping the wheel, staring at the building like he was preparing himself.

Then he turned to me, his expression serious. "Before we go in, you need to understand something."

I frowned. "What?"

"Mr. Savage." His tone was sharper now, like he was making sure I paid attention. "Whatever happens in there, you do not talk to him. At all."

That threw me off. "Why?"

Eric sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Because he’s a manipulative, narcissistic prick who only cares about himself. He’ll pretend to be a good guy, act like he’s on your side—but it’s all a game to him. And trust me, you do not want to be his next project."

I swallowed. "You make him sound like a psychopath."

Eric scoffed. "That’s because he is. The man would sell his own mother if it meant getting ahead with his ambition." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. "So, no matter what he says, no matter how friendly he seems, don’t fall for it. I’ll do the talking. And if he taunts you, don’t take the bait. And for the love of God, get your shit together. He’ll know if you’re scared, and he’ll use it against us."

"He will?"

Eric didn’t answer right away, just stared at me like he was waiting for me to put the pieces together myself.

I swallowed, nodding. "Got it."

He studied me for another second, then exhaled and pushed open his door.

"Let’s go."

I hesitated for half a second before stepping out of the car, the midday heat hitting me immediately. The office building stood tall and polished, its sleek glass panels reflecting the harsh sunlight. The air smelled of pavement and distant car exhaust, the city buzzing faintly in the background.

He walked ahead. I forced my legs to move, each step feeling heavier the closer we got to the entrance.

The glass doors slid open with a soft whoosh, welcoming us into a blast of cool, air-conditioned air. The lobby was sleek—white marble floors, dark leather seating, a front desk manned by a receptionist who barely glanced up from her screen. The scent of coffee and something faintly metallic lingered in the air.

As we crossed the lobby, my eyes flickered to the security cameras mounted in the corners. Are we already being watched? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

Eric didn’t stop at the front desk. He knew exactly where we were going, and I had no choice but to follow. The silence between us felt heavier now. I could feel my heart picking up speed again.

Then, just as we reached the elevator, Eric spoke without looking at me.

"Last chance to back out."

I swallowed hard. The elevator doors slid open.

And I stepped inside.

Eric hit the button for the 12th floor, and as the doors shut, I felt the walls closing in. The hum of the elevator filled the silence, each passing second stretching the tension between us.

"You good?" Eric asked, side-eyeing me.

I exhaled sharply. "Yeah."

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it either. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. Tsk. I wished I could mirror that kind of ease, but my body had other plans, my leg bounced slightly before I forced it still.

The numbers on the panel climbed.

5th floor.

6th.

7th.

I swallowed, my throat dry.

Eric finally spoke again. "Remember what I said about Mr. Savage."

I nodded.

8th. "Don’t talk to him."

9th. "Don’t argue with him."

10th. "And don’t show fear."

11th.

And then, with a soft chime, we reached the 12th floor.

The doors slid open, revealing a hallway lined with dark wood paneling and dim lighting. It was quiet eerily so. So quiet that it made my skin crawl.

Eric stepped out first, and I followed, my pulse hammering.

Then, at the end of the hallway, a door clicked open.

And a man stepped out. Tall. Impeccably dressed. His suit so perfectly tailored it looked like it had been stitched onto his body. He carried himself with a lazy sort of confidence. His eyes a sharp, unreadable shade of gray landed on us, and a slow smile curved his lips.

"Eric," he said, his voice smooth as glass. " Mr. Savage will be with you shortly."

I glanced at the ID clipped to his blazer—Jacob Ayomide. Head of security, if the title beneath his name was anything to go by. So this was the guy keeping watch over Ken’s dad.

Then his eyes landed on me.

"And you must be the friend."

I forced a faint smile, but my chest tightened. My heart stuttered for a beat, and suddenly, breathing didn’t feel as easy as it should.

Jacob gestured toward the office, and we stepped inside.

The room was spacious but minimalistic, designed more for intimidation than comfort. A sleek black desk sat in the center, its surface almost too clean, save for a single folder placed neatly on top. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along the far wall, offering a panoramic view of the city skyline, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the polished floor.

We took a seat in the plush leather chairs across from the desk, sinking in slightly. Jacob disappeared through another door—probably leading to Mr. Savage’s private space leaving just me and Eric in silence.

I exhaled slowly, my eyes drifting around the room. The walls were lined with glass cases displaying various awards and framed newspaper clippings, all featuring the same name in bold print, Ashley Savage. There was a faint, lingering scent of expensive cologne and aged leather, the kind of smell that stuck to power-hungry men.

Beside me, Eric was scrolling through something on his phone, completely unbothered.

After about ten minutes of waiting, Eric finally looked up from his phone and smirked.

"Either he’s in some very important meeting," he said, stretching his arms lazily, "or this is the part where they make us wait long enough to lose confidence and start getting nervous." He let out a short laugh. "And it’s definitely not working."

I didn’t respond. Just sat there, watching him, my fingers tapping lightly against the armrest.

Eric scoffed under his breath. "Pathetic."

Minutes passed, dragging slower than they should have. Then, finally, the doorknob clicked.

Jacob stepped inside, holding the door open.

I didn’t need to be told who was coming in next.

Eric was already on his feet, so I stood too, inhaling one last steadying breath.

I glanced at him and muttered, "It’s about to go down."