"What colour of panties are you wearing?"
"Excuse me?" She countered
"I won't repeat the question again"
"Red. They're red" she swallowed
"Reach below your gown. Pull it. And hand it over to me"
"Why would you want it? It's just a piece of material...
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"You know, I've never liked you. Only a whore would do what you did. They talk about you, you know? Everyone talks about you. They drag your name through the mud. A lot of guys have tried to date you, but you've always refused. Shunned them all off. You were always playing hard to get, like you were better than everyone else. Making everyone think you were a good woman, and you were a fucking pariah that was off limits, or wasn't into boys. Yet what did you do? Like the little whore that you are, you went all the way to the top, to seduce the very boss himself. Throwing yourself at him, like your mama didn't instill any manners in you. But when the CEO of the entire Stanford Bank in the whole world didn't agree? Did you back down? Oh no. Not you. You just went after someone even more powerful, and stronger. The one and only Mikhail Constantinovich. And you wrapped him around your tiny little finger and made him do all your dirty work. Now, he's the new Head CEO of Stanford Bank, worldwide. Just what you wanted. So you could be given the grand title as the lady who fucks the boss, just for special treatment. And true to the saying, you've been lax, and lazy ever since. Doing whatever you liked, not being on seat, coming to work whenever, and it's allowed right? No one can tell you anything, because you do after all fuck the boss. But you think you're better than any other one of us, who has actually worked our ass out to earn this job? It's not like we all possess the vaginas and staminas to fuck our way all the way to the top, to earn a fucking seat at the table, like you did. Life is so damned unfair sometimes, you know? I worked my ass of for this job. While all you had to do, was spread those legs of yours, and never stop spreading them. Mikhail Constantinovich's little bitch. People in the corporate world call you a slut. How's anyone in this business ever going to take you seriously, when you fuck their very boss? Look at you. You wear different brands of hickeys on your neck like they were some fucking medals. Like a title. You ought to be ashamed of who you are, and who you let give them to you."
The words were like a sharp punch to Raven's gut. Having the same effect of knocking her legs out, beneath her. She had to find the nearest chair, to sit down. There was no way she could listen to more of this, standing on her two feet.
Taking a few seconds to calm herself down, and think through the words she was about to dish to the bastard, she finally spoke up.
"Mr. Tomascow, do you want to know what it would take to loose your job? Have you ever wondered your worth, in Stanford Bank? And just how far investors, would fight to keep you? Well let me deliver the answer to you in clear terms, incase you've ever wondered. One phone call. It would take just one phone call, from me, to ruin you. Two kids isn't it? I've read your profile. People talk about you as well, congratulations. About the arrogant, pathetic prick of a man, that you are. And how I might find it difficult to work under you, when you were assigned to be head over my district. Oh I can assure you that I'm not the usual push over you come across, Mr. Tomascow. From what I could gather, your poor wife left you with two kids to train didn't she? And I can't even in all honesty, say that I blame her. If I were her, I would leave you too. But it would be a shame, if you lacked the money to train those kids now, wouldn't it? Since you were transferred to my district, three months ago, and since the first day you started throwing various shades and degrees of insults at me, I have been trying to be professional. Be the bigger, more sensible person, in our conversation, every single time, not relying your insults back with some of my own, hoping you will somehow meet my at my professionalism level, but bah, no such luck. So I will supersede my natural instincts, and come down to your level. The level of barbarians, and threaten you, every inch as much as you have threatened me. That's the only way to deal with guys like you, who just won't— give up! Firstly, I don't need you to like me. heck, I couldn't give two fucks what you thought about me, but by God, you will respect me, and accord me the same respect that I've given you for the past few months, like any sane human would. It's called courtesy, something that isn't found in your dictionary, I'm sure. Secondly, you have no right to tell me that I am lax at my job, when you're a terrible mother fucker, at yours. On what grounds can you base that statement? Is there a week that goes by that I don't come in here? I'm the manager of Philadelphia's Stanford Bank. There is no rule that dictates that I have to come to work, every single day. No rule! I do my best here, and work my ass off, every bit as much as you or anyone! I've never lost a contract! I've never lost a deal! I've never lost real money! I've made more than your generation ever could, in cash, for this bank! I have more fucking right to be here, than you ever could! So the next time you want to compare the both of us again? Go back to the basics. Go back to the records, and see who's done more work. Because I have. Lastly, if I'm the slut that you, or anyone thinks that I am, then I would be your boss right now, not the other way around. I Fuck the boss, like you're not ashamed, or scared to throw in my face. But has that change anything about my ethics, my records, my results? I haven't gotten unduly promoted, I haven't worn less customers, I haven't brought this bank down, simply because I date the boss, not that it's yours or anyone's business. Mikhail Constantinovich, is more man than you or anyone could ever be. So next time you call the name of the man who signs your paycheck, you'd call it with a little more respect! Do you know what could happen if I even mentioned a word of what you'd just told me in this room to his ears? You wouldn't just be fired, oh no, that would be too easy. You'd be jailed. You'd be sued. And your precious kids would be taken away from you. Mikhail Constantinovich ruins people, and if he even hears a little rumor that you've been treating the woman he loves like trash, for months now, you better say your last fucking prayer, because he won't stop, until you're six feet underground. He's like a dog, once he latches on to something, he doesn't let go, until he's seen it to the very end. I've been trying to put up with you for months. I've told myself that I will not be that person who ruins a man and his kids because of the man's character. The children deserves to grow up with their father. I told myself I wouldn't be that person that abuses the power that I possess, simply by dating the boss, and complain to him about every single thing that goes by at the office that I don't like, but you are pushing me. And very soon, I'm going to hit that wall. The wall that gives me no other option than to turn around, and push right back at you. You've abused me emotionally, physically, you've put me in distress, made me doubt myself, psychologically, ethically, all round, in more ways than one, very many times. But you know what? Enough is enough. I won't take more of this, I don't have to take this shit from you, nor from anybody. Today has been a really shitty day for me, heck, the entire week has been shitty. You are not allowed to come in here, like some self-entitled prick and make it worse. Like it's your right to. I won't allow it." Raven finally finished off, panting hard, her eyes bloodshot, her fingers folded into tight, little fists
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A/N: Yass bitches! It's a new chapter. I'm literally just chapters binging today. This is the fourth chapter that I'm typing today. I started since 4am. So I don't need to tell you that this is next week's Friday's chapter. So you guys, don't expect any chapters from me, the whole of next week, because I've typed it all already. Today. I'm going to be insanely busy next week, so I want to type as much as I can, today. Because I won't be able to type anything, next week.
This is the first draft. I haven't edited. So please pardon the typo errors.
If you were Raven, and you were being abused this way, what would you do? Would you do something different from what she did? What exactly would you do if you were in her shoes? Comment down below. It'd be interesting to know. 👌
You know the drill. If you loved this chapter, every bit as much as I enjoyed typing it, don't forget to VOTE COMMENT FOLLOW
