Control

Chapter 4.

     Secret?

     He couldn't possibly know about my condition—not even my own father fully understood what was wrong with me, never mind anyone else! I scrutinised his every move like a deer waiting for its chance to bolt, painfully aware of his presence as he edged closer, every tiny breath sweeping into my lungs seeming shorter and more compressed than the last. His wide shoulders seemed to loom over me almost blocking out the view of the room behind him.

     I had only briefly acknowledged him standing before me at the dinner table but now I could really see his height and it was beyond belief—I was five eight with my heels, and he was still a head above me. A palm pushed into my lower back and my hips dropped as I felt my body relax without my control. No! Not again!

     Dimitri circled me familiarly, grazing his knuckles against my waist as he went by. His eyes were playful, willing me to participate in his covert game. The longer I stared into them, the more the smouldering fire licked across my skin and oozed into my core. I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip to keep my composure, the iron taste of blood tainting my tongue as his fingers touched along the hem of my dress and his thumb brushed the soft skin of my thigh. He paused, sweeping his index finger up and past my navel towards my chest.

     "I know you, Frances," he said. His eyes were no longer playful, no longer lustful. "And you knew me."

     "You're crazy, that's what I know," I spat, summoning all of my strength to slam my hands into his chest and push him out of the way. He swooped forward, blocking the exit when a voice suddenly sounded from outside the room.

     "Frances? You here?"

     I kicked the brute in the shin and he hissed, backing away from the door.

     "John?" I called out, opening the office door and spotting him in the hallway. I could barely recognise my own voice; I sounded flustered. I had never sounded flustered in my entire life. I cleared my throat, glaring at the perverted bastard smirking at me as he rested up against the wall.

     John was in his light silver grey work suit, his chestnut hair in a clean but choppy style and held together by a light layer of wax, by the looks of it.

     "Do you know what time it is?" he asked, shifting up his sleeve pointedly to show none other than the iconic Rolex, "It's five o'clock in the afternoon. I finished work an hour ago. I thought you'd be at home by now."

     I eyed his hair once more, my curiosity reaching its peak. "Have you had a haircut?"

     "Oh! Yeah, do you like it? I thought I'd have a change after work so your dad booked me in with the best barbers a few streets away—" he babbled. Oh, god. More bonding. Brilliant.

     "Wait, sorry, what did you just say?" I frowned. "Did you just say it's five o'clock in the afternoon?"

     "Since you collapsed last night, I assumed it was appropriate to let you sleep it off. Did I do wrong?" Dimitri asked.

     "Yes." I snapped as John simultaneously began to utter praise to insufferable Greek bastard. Dimitri caught my eye, his eyes gleaming with social victory. He was loving watching me squirm.

     "No, it's fine! Thank you for taking care of her. I know you're a busy man," John said.

     Busy coming on to women in a public restroom more like! Perhaps he got a kick out of taking advantage of women and humiliating them at the dinner table. My chest heaved with guilt at my train of thoughts—I let him touch me in such an undignified place and it made me just as bad as him.

     Desperate to remove myself from his company, I found myself tugging at John's arm like a child. A ghost of a grin graced Dimitri's lips as he watched me, sliding his large hands into his pockets.

     "Thank you again for letting me stay here for the night, but we really should go. I have work to do since I slept the day away." I said, gritting my teeth as I attempted to remain civil.

     "I understand, let me show you the way out," he said, extending an arm to his side and following us down the hallway to the exit to the car park.

     John's car—or rather, my father's old car—was parked a few spaces away, but thankfully close enough so I did not have to walk too far in my stilettos. He had passed it over to John a few weeks ago after he had decided to get a new one, which was usually every eight months, and my boyfriend lapped up the gift like a kitten with warm milk.

     My father had become a very prosperous man in the past decade and had worked hard to get to his invaluable position at his company but the way his taste became increasingly more expensive in the past year worried me. I blamed his pathetic soon-to-be trophy wife Charlotte, though I had yet to see evidence.

     "Dimitri—can I call you that?" John chuckled. "Mr Hayward is having a business do at the company next week, you looked after France and your father is an old friend, it would be rude not to invite you."

     "Absolutely, I will see you both then." Dimitri beamed, his eyes sparkling with charisma as he looked at me. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest and I found myself growing hotter by the second.

     "It's a black and white themed masquerade ball," John said, "I'm sure Mr Hayward would make an exception if you found it too uncomfortable, Mr Krieos—I mean, Dimitri."

     "At the company? A masquerade ball?" I spluttered. "Has my father gone insane? He is not this pathetically cliché." Charlotte. That blonde bimbo was clearly responsible for such a theme. I was becoming increasingly annoyed and I could feel the air around me becoming as restless as my own soul.

      "It sounds wonderful. I'm sure I'll be able to conform to the dress code." Dimitri said, his pearly white teeth contrasting against his tan skin as he smiled.

     "Thanks again, other details are on the invitation," John explained, pulling out a small crisp card with fancy white lettering on a black background and handing it to the brute.

     "Well, thank you. I'll see you at the ball. Goodbye John. Frances." Dimitri dragged my name out on his tongue and I could feel myself burning with unspoken anger.

     "We should catch up at the ball, see you later." John grinned, hitting him on the arm like he was his best friend.

     I almost cringed at how familiar he was acting with him. It suddenly became quite dark as grey clouds seemed to drift overhead. John and I walked to the car and I glanced over my shoulder at Dimitri. He waved and blew me an exaggerated kiss my way, a big grin on his despicably handsome face as if he were saying: 'I've won this round.'

     That son of a bitch!

     When we got into the car, rain began to splatter the windscreen and I knew it was going to get worse if I did not calm down. I would have to avoid that pervert at the ball, at all costs.