IMPRESSION
The president smirked at her, caressing her while reading the rules of the state.
You shall obey the empire.
You must give your life to the empire when necessary.
You must never question the empire.
The empire is here to comfort and protect.
She repeated after him as he caressed her face, her body. His hands were cold. She shivered but kept repeating after him. Once the words were a part of her, ingrained in her memory, every syllable spoken from her lips with conviction, he brought out a knife. Her eyes opened before he could bring it down, straight to her heart.
The poster of the president's cold eyes and charismatic smile was the first thing she saw as she woke up. She groggily made her way to the bathroom and sprinkled water on her face. She winced at the pain in her arm. She remembered the events from the previous night. Davys had eventually brought in a doctor friend who had treated her wound after his father left.
She huffed as she brushed her teeth and went into the shower. In one night, she had been shot at, propositioned by the first son, and is somehow now supposed to be his pretend girlfriend.
The thought kept ringing in her head as she got dressed for work. She had barely put her gun in her holster when there was a knock on the door.
She opened it and found two hefty and unimpressed-looking men in suits.
"What?" she asked.
"We have been instructed to bring you," A mean-looking one said.
"By who?"
"You'll find out when we get there," the meaner-looking one replied.
"If you don't give me a name, I won't move an inch."
"The first son," the mean one replied impatiently.
"That's what you should have said initially. Let's go."
He looked her over. "Like that?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"What of your luggage? It won't be for a short visit. You work there now."
At her confused expression, he continued, "On another thought, you probably wouldn't need any of your stuff. Let's go."
"Hold on," she said as she dashed to the kitchen and scribbled a quick note to her sister telling her where she'd be.
"I'm ready," she said.
"The trip was short, probably because of her anxiety and anticipation. The future of the empire depended indirectly on her. She didn't like Davys, but she'd be damned if she didn't take a bullet to her fucking head before she let a single fly touch him.
His mansion was completely different at night than it was during the day. True to his words, there were a lot of workers moving around, appearing busy. On sight, Valerya could count four gardeners, three maids and ten guards. She stepped into his house and counted five more maids.
"Mr. Marjan is in his bedroom. First door on your right once you get upstairs," A maid informed as soon as Valerya came in. She nodded and headed in the direction she was shown. As she stepped into his room, she noted that it was spacious and full of light. He was standing bare backed, by the wide window overlooking his property.
"Like what you see?" he asked.
"Your property is really nice, yeah."
"Not what I was referring to."
"Why do you have Rockella's desire models parading as your maids?"
"Aesthetics baby girl," he replied as he turned around.
"I've been waiting for you," he said as he began to dress. "Now I'm very rarely in the house at this time, but you need to know about my schedule to know how to serve me better.
"I usually come back home by 4am or 8am depending on how boring the night was or how fun the company was."
"Then let me guess, you sleep all day and wake up probably by 4pm to brainstorm about where to use our taxpayers' money to party this time?" she asked.
He smiled as he gave her a piercing stare, full of wonder. "You've never addressed me. Why?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You've never called me anything; not Mr. Marjan, or the President's son, or the first son, or Davys."
She hesitated. "What would you like me to call you then?"
"By my given name, Davys."
"Okay… Davys," she called out, feeling the tone of his name on her tongue.
"In response to your question, I don't in fact, look for party locations in my spare time."
"Then models to sleep with?" she suggested.
"No. I attend meetings throughout the day. And I don't as a matter of fact have free time. As the first son, I always handle important matters. Matters too low for the president to handle, but high enough to coach me for when I become president." He dressed quickly and walked towards her.
She stepped back a little, which made him smile. "You don't need to be shy. At the end of the week, we'd be seeing all of each other."
"Do you always sleep with your employees?"
"Once or twice." At her disgusted expression, he continued. "I was joking. I never mix business with pleasure. Believe me, I learned the very hard way. All pun intended."
"Let's go," he said as he walked out of the door and she trailed behind him. he walked briskly, showing her rooms in the house.
"If you don't mind, I have a pending issue to take care of," he announced as he led her to a secluded part of his house. She followed him to a large room, so round, it seemed like half of a semi-circle. There were about fifty chairs partly arranged around a circular table. The room was cold and their footsteps sounded loudly on the linoleum floors.
He pressed a button on the intercom, and light came on from an entire wall facing the chairs. An intelligent-looking man was shown on the screen.
"You're quite late, First Son."
"Secretary Oh. I need you to reschedule my meetings for tomorrow."
"Well…," the man started, but Davys hung up before he could continue.
"Let's go, Valerya," he said as he made his way out the door. Valerya thought his approach to the secretary was rude, but she didn't say a word. It wasn't her job, and it certainly wasn't her business.
He showed her more rooms in the house and answered her questions. He didn't linger on any room but just kept moving. All the doors were automatic, controlled by Mirabelle, and opened as soon as they sensed their presence. When they got to a teal-coloured bedroom with a four-poster bed and satin curtains, he entered.
"You'll stay here from now on," he announced as she looked around.
"I understand. When would I leave?"
"When the threat has been averted."
"Okay. I'll get my things from my apartment."
"That would not be unnecessary. I mean this with as much offence as I can muster. The way you dress is not befitting of someone I would want to go out with. Our cover would be blown as soon as we step out of the door.
"Well, in that case, let me go back to get my documents from the office since my clothes are too tacky to be sent here," She huffed angrily as she walked out and the door slammed behind her.