Bad Boy Saved Me

Chapter 9

Finally! I understand the plot seems a bit slow.... I'm trying to better organize it, and it'll definitely be picking up later on!

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He looked like a fair enough guy... not.

But at least, it wasn't what I was expecting. He wasn't too awful to look at, reminding me of a tougher-looking George Clooney.

At my entrance, nothing was out of place. The man kept writing something, an important-looking document of sorts. His penmanship didn't waiver, as if he didn't notice my presence. No looks, no questions... just silence.

After what seemed like hours, the graying man finally spoke up.

"Ms. Evans," he called curtly, "Please take a seat."

I surveyed the room, my eyes landing on a piece of leather furniture in front of his desk. I carefully took a seat, my wary stare not breaking from his face.

"You are probably wondering why you are here."

Suddenly, I saw red. "Wondering?! I've been drugged, dragged around god-knows-where-"

He interrupted quickly. "Ms. Evans. Please understand your place," he practically seethed, despite his cool expression that revealed nothing.

I was faced with his eyes that bore right through me. They weren't outright glaring, but they seemed aged and hardened, as if he had seen everything in his lifetime.

On closer inspection, the graying man was much more intimidating. He had a scar that ran right through his forhead and eye. His eyes kind of reminded me of...

"Anyways, long story short, you are here just as a formality. Step-daughter of Thomas Pride, correct?"

He already knew the answer, as I flinched at the name of that bastard.

His eyebrows rose questioningly, wrinkling his forehead. I looked away. He continued when I didn't respond.

"Thomas is a fool. He's been borrowing from us for years. Hasn't paid back a penny. To think he's been after my competitors as well! Your stepfather's quite famous around these parts," he mused.

"That's my stepfather's business. Now why am I here?" I questioned meekly.

"You're here... as an investment of sorts. Until that fool decides to show up, he won't get to see his little princess," the graying man smirked darkly.

"He won't care, you know," I replied, defeated. "Please, I didn't know anything about his money. I thought we were broke! So please, let me go! I won't tell anyone about this, I swear."

I absolutely had it. I was exhausted and confused, for god-knows-what that bastard did.

"Now, now. We have a reputation to upkeep, after all. We don't hurt women, so you can relax. We'll probably just have you do some work, and even pay you," he reasoned. "You just can't leave. A... hostage situation, if you'll have it," he spoke as if it was an amusing game.

He already won. Sure, he was an old man, but the glint in his eyes showed no room for argument.

As if realizing this wasn't just a dream, I felt chills down my spine.

"Who are you people?" I asked, my voice trembling.

I heard a familiar voice reply, but it wasn't coming from the graying man.

"Sweetheart, we're your worst nightmare," a smooth voice mused, with what I sensed was... joking? Amusement? Mocking?