Barely Lethal

The damn Jacuzzi

The penthouse wrapped us in an atmosphere of unspoken tension. Eager to clear the air, I took a deep breath, breaking the lingering silence.

"Mr. Eric, I want to apologize. I shouldn't have assumed that you're the partying type. It was unprofessional of me." I admitted, my voice laced with a hint of regret.

Eric sighed, his stern expression softening momentarily. "Ms. Avery, I owe you an apology as well. I shouldn't have assumed your character either." His gaze briefly flicked down my deep V-cut, and I couldn't help but feel a flush of self-consciousness.

The choice to wear a slightly revealing dress now seemed questionable. Panic surged within me, and I mentally chastised myself for not opting for the more conservative shirt beneath the blazer dress.

"...but you definitely make a different impression." his voice trailing off. What did he mean by that? My eyes followed his disinterested gaze towards the pool visible from the bar.

The ambiguity in his words only heightened the tension in the air. Is he insulting me for what I have worn after he invited me for a drink? I am wearing a blazer dress for god's sake!

Frustration bubbled up. He was the one who had suggested the drink, blurring the lines between professionalism and personal interactions. I needed to assert myself, to remind him that I was here as a professional, not just at his beck and call.

Taking a breath, I spoke up, "Mr. Eric, I appreciate your consideration, but you were the one who suggested the drink. It's not the most formal way to conduct business, so I dressed accordingly."

Eric's response was smug, a slight tilt to his lips. "Ms. Avery, I can do whatever I want. After all, I am the one paying. Is your job so insignificant that a client has to tell you how to dress and behave?"

The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. I felt my eyes welling up with embarrassment and tears. I stammered, "I—no, I didn't mean to—"

Cutting me off, he curtly stated, "Yes, Ms. Avery, I am buying the place." The admission hung in the air, the culmination of our professional dealings.

"I'm well aware of that, and we are grateful to conduct this business with you." I managed, my voice small. "I'll leave the documents here on the bar."

Eric's gaze remained averted as he added, "You're quite rude to leave after I politely invited you over."

Confusion, anger, and annoyance swirled within me. What was happening? Did he expect me to stay and chat after the way he had just spoken to me? I stood my ground, staring at him with a mix of disbelief and frustration.

After a moment of charged silence, Eric sighed and, almost reluctantly, motioned for me to sit. "Sit.", he said with assertiveness. I'm not a bloody dog!

I retorted, "Didn't you say you're a private person? That you don't drink or party?"

Eric's response was calm but firm, "I never said I don't drink. I enjoy scotch occasionally, especially with people I value...or invest in."

I hate this man already and I had met him twice. TWICE.

I simply had to bear for the sake of my job.

As I reluctantly took a seat, Eric's gaze remained distant, as if contemplating something beyond the immediate context.

"Ms. Avery," he began, breaking the silence, "I value professionalism, but I also appreciate authenticity. Our interaction tonight has been a blend of both. I expect the same in our future dealings."

What a confusing prick?

With the discussion drawing to a close, Eric leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. "Ms. Avery, you've proven yourself capable in handling this deal. I respect competence, and I value results."

"Thank you, Mr. Eric. Your recognition means a lot."

"This penthouse has potential, Ms. Avery. Let's not undermine it with unnecessary conflicts."

I never started any conflicts but okay? I gathered the documents and prepared to leave. I was ready to get the fuck out of here before this bipolar man would decide to not buy this place.

_

In the following days, as we exchanged emails and discussed the finer points of the deal, a semblance of normalcy settled.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city, I received a message from Eric. "Ms. Avery, I'd like to discuss the penthouse deal further. How about a meeting at my office tomorrow?"

He set up his office already? Seems like he's gotten quite comfortable with the place.

The abruptness of the request caught me off guard. Nevertheless, I agreed, acknowledging the time.

As I entered Eric's sleek office the next day, the contrast to the penthouse was stark. The air was charged with a different energy — one that resonated with the formality of corporate dealings. Eric, seated behind a polished desk, gestured for me to take a seat.

"Ms. Avery, let's get straight to the point. There's a crucial aspect of the penthouse deal that requires our attention," he began, his gaze piercing.

Eric leaned forward, his expression intent. "There's a particular element of the penthouse that I find rather uninspiring. You mentioned it as a selling point, but I beg to differ."

My heart skipped a beat. I furrowed my brow, urging him to elaborate.

"The Jacuzzi," he stated flatly. "I fail to see its appeal. It's an unnecessary indulgence, and I believe its removal would enhance the overall aesthetic and value of the space."

Is he serious? The damn Jacuzzi? He has a problem with the fucking jacuzzi? How can we manage to remove the jacuzzi after the deal is sealed?

"Why wouldn't you want a jacuzzi?" I just end up blurting out.

Eric's gaze remained unwavering as he cocked his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Ms. Avery, you seem to be particularly fond of the jacuzzi," he observed, raising an eyebrow in a manner that suggested he was well aware of the shift in dynamics.

Caught off guard, I fumbled for words. "Well, it's a luxury feature, a selling point that adds value to the penthouse," I stammered.

Without breaking eye contact, Eric rose from his chair, his tall frame casting a shadow over the room. The air grew thicker as he approached, his intense gaze fixed on me. It was the closest we had ever been, and the realization of his stature and presence sent a shiver down my spine.

"I've mentioned before, Ms. Avery, I'm a private person," he asserted, stopping just in front of me. The distance between us seemed to vanish, and the gravity of his presence became palpable. "The jacuzzi, in my opinion, seems excessive for a single occupant, especially when there's already a pool."

I found myself frozen, his proximity and the intensity of his gaze rendering me momentarily speechless.

As Eric waited for my response, the room felt suspended in time, the outcome of this unexpected confrontation hanging in the balance.

_
Thank you for reading!