Ophelia.

02. A Lady's Etiquette.

Ophelia Samson.

"Good evening Miss Samson," Mr Salvatore greeted with a raspy voice. His voice was like sandpaper scratching on splintered wood. To me, it was soothing.

I watched him like a hawk, but tried to not make it seem as though I was affected by what happened last night.

He was sitting at his large desk, looking as professional as ever. The way his hair slicked back and the posture of his body, even sitting, he looked important. His office alone was larger than my shoebox of an apartment that I had moved into as soon as I turned seventeen. A place that I would miss dearly. I had always hated being so dependant on people. Especially Gale. If I knew I could support myself, I would continue to do so.

Mr Salvatore didn't seem phased or affected by what had happened last night. It was as if nothing had even happened at all. It only went as far as me grinding on his....you know. And by which, may I add, was rock solid against my thigh. I imagined he was very experienced in that department, that being the reason for his lack of care.

He extended a long arm out to the chair in front of the large Oakwood desk and I noticed the bright red and raw shaven skin on his knuckles. Surprised, I shifted my eyes to the chair, pretending to not have seen his knuckles.

With a tight smile, I took a seat. No sign of Sugar-the-hoe anywhere, thank God.

Mr Salvatore wore a dark blue suit, a white dress shirt unbuttoned without a tie. Never had I ever seen a man look so good in a damn suit. The hard planes of his athletic body could be seen between the lapels of the thick material of his blazer. If he was so successful with his business, how did he find time in between to work out? It was boisterous to me, but Mr Salvatore seemed greatly disciplined.

"How are you liking your room?" He interrupted me out of my own thoughts. He raised the brow with the scar, awaiting my answer. When I had met him yesterday, he looked vicious, almost like he was ready to claw anyone's eyes out. There was an eternal frown scribed into the middle of his eyebrows, but his eyes were a gentle colour of green. This man in front of me today looked calm. He still had those hard features, but he looked stress-free.

"The room is amazing, thank you. Bigger than I thought." I admitted. I was also fiddling with my hands. A nervous sign. I stopped my hands, keeping control of my body.

He watched me, a curious look in his eyes. The way his eyes soared across my entirety made me feel as though I was somehow naked in front of him—all insecurities bare for him to make fun of. I shook the thoughts off with a vacant smile. "I love it."

His eyes softened and he shifted in his seat, leaning back a little more comfortably. "Good." He massaged his jaw with his hand, I caught sight of his knuckles once again. The raw skin hurt to look at and I looked down at my busy hands. He all of a sudden looking dismayed when I looked up at him again. I watched him, cautious of what he was about to say.

"I apologise for not seeing you first thing this morning. I really should have, although I think Blue might have filled you in. I had a few last minute meetings today. There's a deal that I have to close off, but our partner has been a little...difficult." He explained, a whisper of irritation now dwindling in his bright eyes. His hazel eyes widened a little, surprised by the way he admitted that out loud. It then became apparent that he wasn't usually one to become vocal about his troubles.