Claiming of Fifty shades

Insufferable man

I bit my tongue to stop myself from retorting sharply. Do it for Kate; this was the repetitious chant that echoed in my brain. All that was required of me was to successfully escape with the recorded interview along with Mr. Grey's permission and then I'd never have to endure this man's arrogance again. Under his audacious scrutiny, I resisted the urge to throw the recordings back at his arrogant face. I wanted to show him the fucking bird, and then get the hell out of here with nothing but my dignity intact; I couldn't do it since I was pretty sure the fucker would retaliate with full force if I pulled something else after my last transgression and because I was certain I'd later come to regret my inconsiderate rash decision when relaying my confession of failure to Kate's fallen face. This was proof enough that I couldn't do anything right without messing it up.

So for the sake of my BFF I was attempting at playing malleable to please him—for now. Ughh, though she better be grateful about this! I couldn't wait to give her a piece of my mind for adding the meddlesome question in the first place. She seriously overestimated my sense of humor and thought I'd logically skim over it. She knew better than anyone that logic and me had never stood on an even ground. The logical part of my brain had always been inane.

I needed to choose my battles carefully and if I couldn't beat him, I had to—reluctantly so—join him. He seemed to hold a great deal of affection for power and control. Kate had always swore that you could manipulate men into doing anything you coveted as long as they didn't know they were being manipulated into doing your bidding. The key was to let them perceive they were the ones making all the major decisions and they'd play right into your hands. Thanks Kate!

Realizing the odds, I had to quit my stubborn attitude and set myself up for the douche's final decision since it was a necessary evil. I could control my flippancy if it meant getting what was important. Though If I didn't get my way, well that'd be another story altogether. He'd have to drag me out of here, Neanderthal style. I wasn't going down without a fair fight! I excelled at stubbornness and random bouts of illogical bravery.

And now he was waiting for me to answer his prying queries. My unease was barricading me from responding. Entrusting him with anything more than my name didn't befit the ideal of a bright idea.

"I'm sure I can keep up." He said and I sighed, knowing I had no choice.

I lifted my eyes, indecisive and answered quietly, "I was uncomfortable around my employer."

"Why?"

"He tried to make some uncomely advances." I saw his eyes tighten for a second before they went blank again, back to their usual impassive somewhat mocking beam.

"I see, and what did your job description entail?"

Great! Why couldn't I still be working at Clayton's? "Baby-sitting..." I cleared my throat, "I was a babysitter." Surprised edged his wild gaze, quickly followed by a hint of an almost non-discernible amusement.

My face—curse it!—heated unflatteringly when I saw his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, "Interesting. So did you tell the... employer's wife about this indiscretion of which you speak of, before quitting?" He enquired with sauve politeness.

How was I supposed to tell Major Douche that Mr. Lance grabbed at my ass without making a whiny fool out of myself? I attempted, "I didn't exactly tell his wife, though I do remember simply mentioning to her in passing that I'd be delighted if they both drew up a contract stating I wasn't up for... uh... grabs... for her husband or anybody else for that matter. I processed by the screaming match that later ensued between them that she had gotten the gist of his extracurricular activities." I gave him my most angelic smile.