Limbo [h.s]

1

Rihanna - Skin

Chapter 1 – Isabel's POV

This was before him. Before he invaded every inch of my mind contorting it, showing me what it's like to be alive, and for a split second I thought I might actually get my happy ending, the one that he said I deserved. I should've listened to my father when he said those were only for good girls. 

***

Naked was a feeling I was used to.

Not necessarily physically naked but sometimes when referring to punishments. They were becoming more frequent these days, the abuse harsher while the reasons behind them over time slipped away and suddenly I was constantly getting tortured for so much as showing up late to a meeting.

However, the feeling I was referring to wasn't physical, it was mental. I was stripped down of my dignity and exposed to everyone around me. I felt naked.

My father always taught me not to show my hand until I was ready to admit defeat.

Although there is an irony that lies behind that metaphor, my father knows each card I possess and when exactly I'm going to use them because he was the one that taught me how to play them to my advantage. 

I've always been my father's daughter, and tonight's proof of it. I'm on the floor doing him a favour.

I don't work for my father, although he's hinted that I quit my current job so that I can work full time under his name. Nothing's finalised yet but I'm sure it will be soon, I can never say no to him.

Coming back to the naked thing, with all the looks I'm getting I might as well be.

You'd think the amount of times guys have seen some cleavage they'd stop gawking over it right? I mean you'd hope so. But I've come to the conclusion that men are all the same.

I'm working on getting my target to notice me that way it'll make my life easier if I need to approach him at the bar, but I'm hoping he'll come straight to me tonight and make my job easier.

I could really use the help. It's been a hell of a week, especially because I'd been late to one of my meetings this morning even though it was only by two minutes, my father's a very punctual man.

Walking past the large group of older men sat around the bar like a pack of hyenas as they laugh along to god knows what, I aim to gage his attention the slightest bit, just teasing him enough to leave him wanting more.

By the look my target just gave me I think I've succeeded in getting this man's attention. His jaw practically disarticulated as I walked passed him slightly arching my chest forward to draw more attention to my boobs, not that I really needed to because what I was wearing tonight was a lot less than usual.