The Millionaire's 'Friend' - Natasha's Story

Chapter 9 - At Cole's Office

The two guards entered the lift, one of them sticking a key in the panel beneath the buttons, the other taking a firm of my arm, clamping his fingers tightly. I didn't have a clue what was going on, but I felt like I was being frog marched to jail. The lift doors slammed shut with unusual urgency and we started moving quickly, not slowing down or stopping at all. We soon arrived back up on the fiftieth floor where I was swiftly 'encouraged' out of the lift by my minders.

"Er, thank you gentleman." Cole's secretary said hurriedly as she got up from her desk and came scuttling round to meet us. She seemed to have a slightly fraught, nervous energy about her, that she didn't have a few minutes earlier. "That's perfectly alright, I can take it from here."

My escorts looked rather disappointed to be dismissed as they were clearly under the impression I must have come in here causing trouble and needed to be kept in check. I turned and glared as they went. Val blushed when I turned back and gave her an equally quelling glance.

"This way if you please Miss Jones."

She ushered me forward and in through a door to the right of her desk.

"Miss Jones for you Sir."

"Thank you Val." Came a voice that was becoming irritatingly familiar.

Following the direction of the sound, I spotted Cole sitting at a desk in the far corner of the room. Val disappeared behind me, and I just stood there waiting for some kind of question or instruction from the man who'd had me summoned.

But nothing came.

I watched Cole. He simply continued to work away, writing feverishly on a notepad.

He didn't look up.

I took the opportunity to gaze around the room, taking in the large open space, which seemed ridiculously big for just one man. There was very little sign of any personal touch. It was all cold, harsh colours and sterile glass furniture. Including the large desk the man himself was sitting behind.

Cole didn't look up.

The only thing of any interest was a giant, blown up photograph of the Grand Canal in Venice. It was fixed to the wall near his desk. It looked stunning, and the picture was beautiful in a classy black and white style, framed in a thick black wooden frame.

Cole still didn't look up.

The voice in the back of my head piped up to tell me my patience was packing her bags ready for the off. Cole still hadn't moved, never mind offered me a seat.

I calmly walked to one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk and slumped down, sighing dramatically for the full effect. My leather pants squeaked against the leather of the seat as I made myself comfortable. Cole's eyes raised slightly and that single frown line made an appearance. I smiled inwardly, and in my head I dared him to challenge me – to say he hadn't invited me to sit. Though, as if he sensed my challenge, he made no comment. Instead he dropped his eyes back to where his hand had continued to scribble notes.

This was the strangest, and probably quietest, battle of wills ever. He was clearly waiting to see how I would address him.

Scanning the top of his desk, I noted again there was no sign of any personal effects. It's only clutter was a top of the range desktop computer, gallons of paperwork, filed neatly in precise piles, and a desk tidy full of stationary. Idly, I reached forward and lifted off an elastic band that was dangling over the end. I twisted and stretched it playfully between my fingers.

Finally, this made Cole look up. He watched my fingers for a few seconds and then eventually nestled back into his large black leather chair and looked me straight in the eyes.