Their Little Girl

Chapter Nine

"Sir Micah, what’s going on?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly. "Where am I?"

Micah, who had been watching me with a mixture of amusement and something else I couldn't quite decipher, finally spoke. "You're at my house, Amara. You passed out in your office, and Karl insisted we bring you here." He gestured to the luxurious kitchen, its marble countertops and gleaming appliances a stark contrast to the sterile office I had been in just hours ago.

"But what about the meeting?" I asked, my mind still reeling from the events of the previous evening. "What about the investors?"

"They’re gone," Karl said, his voice a low rumble. "They left after you…well, after you left." He didn't elaborate, and I didn't press him.

Micah gestured to the high stool beside him. "Take a seat, Amara," he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

Karl came over and helped me onto the stool.  I felt his strong hands on my waist, guiding me up, and for a moment, I forgot my anxieties.  It was almost comforting, the way he treated me like a fragile thing, even though I knew he was capable of much more than gentleness.

"I'll get you something to drink," Karl said, heading towards the refrigerator.  He returned moments later, holding a glass of orange juice.  "Here you go, little girl.  You look like you could use it."

I took the glass from him, my hands trembling slightly.  "Thank you, Sir Karl."  I was so thirsty, my throat felt like sandpaper.  I took a large gulp, the coolness of the juice refreshing my parched throat.

But before I could swallow, I realized what I was wearing.  I was in a black lingerie, that it isn't mine either as its delicate lace clinging to my skin.  I choked on the orange juice, sputtering it out onto the counter.

"What the...?" I gasped, my eyes wide with shock and confusion.  "What happened?  Why am I wearing just these?”

My cheeks burned hotter than the orange juice I was choking on.  "Why am I wearing just these?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper.

Their faces flushed a deep red.  Micah’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. 

Karl, however, just smiled softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  “I changed you, little girl,” he admitted, his voice smooth.  “I figured it wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in your office clothes.”

I almost choked him.  “How dare you!  You changed me without asking?  Without my consent?”  My voice rose, laced with fury.  I felt my hands clench into fists, ready to lash out.

But before I could act on my anger, Karl added, “Don’t worry, little girl.  I didn’t see anything.  A maid helped me, but she had an emergency and had to rush home.  So, I…well, I took over.”  He shrugged, his smile fading slightly.  “I forgot to put on a shirt for you, though.  I needed to pick up some important papers from the office.”

My anger fizzled out, replaced by a wave of guilt. Damn.

It was my job to pick up those papers.  “I…I’m sorry,” I mumbled, my head bowed.  "I'm such a worthless piece of shit."

Micah stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the marble floor.  “Come on, Amara,” he said, his voice low and gruff.  “You’re in no condition to be arguing.”  He then  swept over to the counter, wiping up the spilled orange juice with a damp cloth.

I felt my shoulders slump, my guilt heavy on my chest.  I was so useless.  Not only had I failed at work, but I had also made a mess out of a situation that was already complicated enough.  I just wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor and be done with it all.