Older

10 | Clara Saint

"𝐢𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞..."

𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞

In my black five-inch heels, I confidently made my way across the marble flooring of his workplace. My hair was tied up in a tight bun, and my black dress hugged my body like a second skin, exuding an air of both power and sophistication. I reached out to press the button on the wall, signaling my ascent to his office.

Inside the elevator, I cradled a bottle of whiskey in my hands, a silent offering that conveyed the gravity of the conversation I was about to have.

As the numbers on the display panel steadily fell to 0, the doors slide open and I step inside the elevator. I press onto his office number, and watch as the lifts close.

I fix my lipstick using the mirror in the elevator, and the moment the door was open I exit.

I confidently walked down the hallway of the office building, my heels clicking on the polished floor, determined to find Vincent. Suddenly, a woman's voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned around to see her circling around her desk, arms folded.

"Can I help you?" she inquired with a hint of suspicion in her tone.

I met her gaze and maintained my composure. "Yes, I'm looking for Vincent. I have a gift for him." I held up the bottle of whiskey as evidence.

She glanced down at her watch, then back at me, clearly unimpressed. "He doesn't have a meeting scheduled."

A sly smile played on my lips. "Even better, it means he is free."

The woman shook her head in clear disapproval. "You need to leave."

My jaw tensed with determination. "I need to see him. Is his office this way or that way?" I pointed in both directions, unwilling to be deterred.

She threatened to call security, but I shrugged it off. "You do that."

I continued walking down the halls, my eyes scanning the office doors for any sign of Vincent's name. And there it was, stamped on a door, guiding me closer to the encounter I had set out to face.

I push the door open and suddenly I am exposed to him fucking another woman. "Well, this is nice."

"What the fuck are you doing here!" He yells out, I hold up the drink as he tucks his dick back into his pants. The girl holds her shirt against her breasts and scurries out of the office, leaving the both of us alone.

"I came to talk," I stated firmly as I approached Vincent's desk. He quickly buttoned up his shirt as I placed the bottle of whiskey on the table and then headed to the corner of the room to retrieve two glasses.

Vincent's initial response was resistant. "I don't want to talk."

I shook my head, undeterred. "Too bad, I actually came to apologise." I walked back to him, unscrewed the whiskey bottle, and poured him a glass, handing it to him. He accepted it with a quizzical look, his brows furrowing as he regarded me.

"Clara Saint, apologising to me? I never thought I would see the day," he remarked, settling into his seat. I let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Vincent. Maybe trying to... well, you know kill you, was a tad bit too much." He took a sip of the whiskey, almost downing it all in one go, before setting the glass back on the table.

"You realise that now," he commented.

"I do," I affirmed, my tone sincere.

Vincent's suspicion lingered. "What are you up to?"