Lord and Loyaltist

Chapter 6

Andres

I spotted Wendy coming out of the restaurant. It had been three days since I received any response from her. As I approached, I reached out and gently held her hand.

"Come with me, and let's not say a word," I said firmly.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, a hint of fear in her eyes.

"Please girlie, just be obedient and silent," I commanded.

"I'm nineteen, not a girl," she retorted bravely.

"I understand you're trying to provoke me," I replied as we walked towards my car. Leaning against my car, I looked at her sternly. "You had a mere 24 hours to review that document and sign it. All you had to do was sign, and I would've helped your father by paying his medical expenses. Or do you want him to suffer?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she began to sob. "Why do wealthy men always demand something in return for their help? Why can't you assist someone without conditions?" Her cries grew louder, drawing the attention of passersby who stopped to watch.

"Please, stop crying; you're making a scene," I urged.

"Making a scene? How can you say that? My father worked for you—"

"Alright, get into the car. We can discuss this inside," I said as my driver opened the door to my Ferrari Enzo.

Wendy got in, and I followed suit. She couldn't stop crying, so I reluctantly embraced her. I couldn't help but worry about my expensive suit getting soaked by her tears. What bothered me more was the possibility of my name splashed across headlines, newspapers, and social media because I was seen with a crying woman. Journalists would seize the opportunity to criticize me, portraying Wendy as a helpless victim and me as the villain. Why were women so deceptive?

"Now, please stop those fake tears and crying," I muttered. "Driver, start driving," I instructed.

"Huh? To where?"

"You can stop hugging me now. Those tears do look fake."

"They're not fake, Mr. Black," she said while wiping her eyes. "I do have feelings. I'm a human being."

I handed her a tissue. "Use this instead."

She frowned but accepted the tissue. "Thank you. So, where are we going?"

I settled into my seat. "We're heading to my... I see you've brought the document."

"I carry it everywhere, so it won't get lost," she explained quietly. "I can't afford to lose it. It would take me twenty four years to pay for the document."

"Ah, I understand," I replied, intrigued.

As we arrived at my corporate tower, the driver opened the door, and I stepped out.

Extending my hand to Wendy, I said, "Come on, Wendy."

"I'm not stepping out of this car," she replied vaguely.

"Why not?"

"I'm afraid you might kick me out of this tower, just like you did before. I've heard stories about this company's treatment of women and I have been treated unfairly by you," she said cautiously.

"I promise I won't do that. We're here for business, and afterward, my driver will safely take you back to the restaurant—"

"What if I refuse to sign the document? Will you harm me and possibly kill me and claim some wild story that I disappeared? Or some wild animal attacked and killed me?" she asked, her tone filled with suspicion.

What on earth was she thinking? Was I truly a monster? Just because I had issues with women didn't mean I was truly evil.

"Wendy," I called out gently. "I'm not what you think. I'm a decent man. Please, come out of the car."

Reluctantly, she exited the car, and together, we entered the tower.

"Mr. Black has just arrived," a speaker announced.

Wendy glanced at the reception desk. "This isn't the man I saw last time I was here."

"The previous one was let go," I replied as we approached an elevator.

Wendy hurried toward me. "Was it because of me?"

I felt relief that she realized her presence in my company had violated one of my rules, and the receptionist had paid the price.

"You're perceptive," I muttered.

"I heard you," she said as the elevator doors opened. I stepped in.

I pulled her inside just before the doors closed, causing her to collide with me. I helped her tuck her hair away behind her ear.

As the elevator opened, I cleared my throat and pushed her aside, stepping out.

Both of us entered my office, and I closed the door.

"Please, take a seat," I gestured.

She sat down.

"Place the document on the table," I instructed.

She obeyed.

"I doubt you've thoroughly reviewed the document," I remarked, sitting on the edge of the table.

"I have," she replied, her voice trembling. "Why me? Oh, you explained that already. What's the purpose of this deal?"

"I recently had a medical checkup, and the results showed signs of prostate cancer," I explained.

"What's prostate cancer?" she inquired slowly.

"It's a serious disease. If I don't address these signs, it could develop into prostate cancer, and the prognosis is five years or less," I said gravely.

Her face displayed a mix of fear and sadness. "And the cure?"

"Frequent sex," I stated matter-of-factly. "If you don't wish to sign, feel free to leave the document there. I only want you for this deal."

I turned away.

"I'll sign it."

I turned back to face her; she was pouting and playing with her hair.

"Are you sure? You don't have to," I said softly.

"I don't want to be the cause of your suffering, and besides, you'll assist with my father's medical expenses."

I nodded. "Of course."

I observed as she signed the document. Then, I handed her another document.

"What's this?" she asked with curiosity.

"My rules are in there. You have an hour to review them. If you agree, you can start working tomorrow," I said with a smile.

"Rules?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, rules. You must adhere to them. Our arrangement will be governed by these rules, and if you break any..."

"What will happen?" she inquired.

"You will face severe consequences," I replied, my tone serious. "Very severe."