Alluring Chaos

Marjorie sighed heavily, wallowing in self-pity and depression, completely zoned out of reality with her mind drowsy from sorrow and self inflicted boredom. Her brows furrowed tightly, over thinking the congratulatory email she had received earlier about the online job interview she had eagerly done after sending a spectacular curriculum vitae that was sure to stand out.

The email had lifted her spirits, having her dance around the house even with a broken heart, assuring herself that mother universe sympathised with her. She had even sworn in the spur of the moment to be done with relationships, and her friends would die before she changed her mind about loosing her heart to another man that did not deserve it. Her career was more important, after all money would solve most of her problems as it seemed men created more problems for her.

'... asked me out and made.... Marjorie?'

She threw her head up from her milkshake distractedly, a fake smile plastered on her lips, nodding like she heeded her friends incessant chatter.

'Where have you travelled!? My boyfriend proposed!' Miranda's announcement prickled her, it came out insensitive, considering how sourly her own relationship had ended. But she could not hold that thought for long as her heart suffered a certain kind of guilt, Miranda was her friend after all.

'Congratulations. It's about time we are bridesmaids, right Danielle...?' She said with a forced sense of humour, ignoring the sting that lingered beneath her eyes.

'Indeed. Chief's bridesmaids though.' Danielle corrected, slurping her drink in a manner that annoyed Marjorie. 'Mine buys me flowers. Really? Flowers? Am I a garden? I mean I appreciate the gesture, but it drives me insane! I now live in a greenhouse. Why am I an actress when my boyfriend wants me to be a florist?' Marjorie smiled genuinely at Danielle's insignificant complaints, now slurping loudly to annoy her friends, after all the subject no longer concerned her.

Danielle's boyfriend was simply insecure, bothered by his girlfriend's profession. It happened one time that he cried in the cinema while they watched an erotic movie Danielle starred in. He constantly walked on egg shells around her, suspecting her of cheating on him with her entire crew, you would not blame him. Danielle was a goddess that flirted with any unfortunate species that had the luxury to the mesmerized by her.

'He will realize soon enough how priceless you are.' Miranda patronised, flashing her diamond ring into her friends' thirsty faces. It was more insulting to Marjorie, reminding her of what could have been if Franklin had kept his pants zipped. But God he was fine, half Nigerian and half Italian. It would have been a rare disappointment if he hadn't cheated on her with that gorgeous model.

'Okay I can no longer pretend. I know you said you don't want us talking about him but it is over a month now.You need to get back out there Marjorie, we can not encourage your decision to remain celibate and focus on your career. We need men.' Miranda advised boldly apathetic to her friend's depression.

'I do not.' Marjorie said sternly, not about to be advised by someone who just got engaged. The agony was too much too bear, and she now hated men, there were vampires that sucked the life out of women and tossed them away like garbage. Or Perhaps it was her attraction to toxicity, always falling for the vampires and not the good human men like Miranda and Danielle did.

'You'll be an old Aunt with a cat in a hut or maybe two cats.' Danielle said almost believably sad with her puppy dog eyes.

'I'll consider.' Marjorie lied, eager to divert their attention from her.

Her friends nodded in pride. Marjorie could not help but roll her eyes in disguise as she sucked on her straw desperately. Tomorrow was her big day, the only good thing that kept her from rolling on mental pikes and burying her head in pain was the email from earlier, being the P.A to the youngest most successful business woman in the country.

Agnes Crawford.

It was mind numbing, the idea of assisting a woman with such power opened her heart to many possibilities, she could see herself achieving, learning, burgeoning and forgetting about her ex. It was almost therapeutic.

'About your new employer, I heard she's a lesbian.' Miranda accused.

Marjorie choked, coughing into the serviette handed to her by Danielle who was now laughing her head off.

'Not my business Miranda.'

'You sure? Cause I heard someone trying to give up on the male species due to a certain heartbreak by a certain fool.' Danielle taunted devilishly, earning a fierce supporting nod from Miranda and a wide grin. 'I'm not into women and Frank does not have that control over me. I am simply a brokenhearted girl with an opportunity to break forth in her career, with two beautiful friends I'm starting to feel like punching.'

The three women laughed. And for a second her happiness was interrupted by an intruding nervousness. What if Agnes Crawford saw through her? A pathetic brokenhearted woman with a good-looking CV, almost chubby body, and a not so optimistic face.

'Marjorie Williams?' The receptionist called to her with a judgemental attitude, stripping Marjorie of the little confidence she had managed to muster before leaving her house.

'That's me.' She signaled with a hand in the air, her voice more quaky than expected. Deep breaths weren't even working at this point. She straightened the imaginary fold on her straight black skirt, rising from the three seater aluminium waiting bench that squeaked disturbingly and rewarded her glances from the other visitors in the reception.

'Congratulations Miss. The CEO will see you for the final interview now.'

Final interview!? They had told her she had been qualified to come and start work, not drill her with more philosophical questions.

'There. The office by the left is where you will be interviewed. Good luck.' The receptionist did have a problem with relating the right expression to words, because what Marjorie read from the receptionist's countenance was 'Bad luck'.

Her legs found their way to Agnes' office, heat spreading from her chest to her stomach, palms sweaty and mouth dehydrated from anxiousness. She debated on knocking or barging in as she was already expected. Butt clenched, breath held in anticipation, she knocked softly on the huge mahogany door.

'Come in please.' A deep sultry voice called from inside, a voice that sent shivers down her spine. She heard the voice clearly, but something in her head convinced her she had to be sure, stupid as it seemed, she knocked again.

'I said come in...'

She twisted the knob with every strength in her body, forcing a tight smile on her lip, she could feel the bead of sweat rolling down her temple and into her eyes. it was an intensified sting, but incomparable to what was before her that encapsulated every nerve of her being, overcoming her senses.

It was the chilled scent of fresh coconut in summer, accompanied by the warm primal smoky scent of leather in winter and a hint of sandalwood undoubtedly whiffing off the man that stood beside the eccentric looking woman. But before she studied them, she allowed herself to be absorbed by the ambience, one that conveyed her into a trance. It was an enormous office, larger than every room in her house combined, she could see her vivid reflection in the shiny marble tiled floors, loose herself in the grand golden chandelier right above the floating center glass table with a middle aged woman behind it and two empty swivel chairs in front. Close to the door was a white chaise longue that soothed her mind with the thought of sleeping on it...

'Yes young lady?' The eccentric woman interrupted, the man by her side arching a brow in amusement.

Move damn it! Oh God no, you're embarrassing yourself! You've gotta move your legs! She reminded herself, her anxiety returning like a raging storm, washing over her radically.

'Would you mind stepping in and shutting the door behind you?' The woman behind the desk asked nicely.

'Oh I'm so..so...sorry.' Haphazardly, Marjorie managed to comport herself to do as she was told. Maybe it was the office, or the woman, or the man that stood beside the woman. Her brains had refused to make sense of anything.

'Marjorie Williams? Comment ça va?(How's is it going?) '

'Oui, Ça va bien Merci, Madame.(I am fine thank you, madam.)' Ah yes at least she still knew how to speak French, it was part of the requirements as Agnes' assistant to have the knowledge of at least four languages that Agnes herself spoke fluently. But where was Agnes? The young beautiful CEO she had always admired.

'Excuse me ma, I am supposed to meet with the CEO for my final interview.'

'Good cause I am the CEO.'

Why was the room spinning so fast...? In a state of utter perplexity her body went light, her legs giving out under her and ... Darkness. Marjorie....! Miss.... Voices beckoned to her In the darkness but she could not reach because she was too far floating in the sweet abyss that drowned her.

'Aha our little assistant has stirred from her mild slumber.' A male voice welcomed her into the light.

'Has she now? Let her know to be ready for her interview with me in five minutes.' The woman's voice came off strongly and clearly annoyed by Marjorie's fainting.

Five minutes...!? Hold on, I passed out? Before the woman that claimed to be Agnes!? My employer?... Oh no... Marjorie realized in panic, her eyes darting left to right for what was not.

The room had stopped spinning, her eyes bloomed in concentration, welcoming the unusual scenery and the disappointing sight of her employer. Agnes was a middle aged woman in a wheelchair, not the young lady in the business magazines.

But how? Was this some sort of scam?

'As you've heard, you will have the interview in five with the CEO.' The beautiful man reminded her sweetly.

It is really Agnes? Or am I in the wrong company? She let her mind wander, fighting the urge to stare longer at the woman.

There was only one way to find out, pass the interview without passing out again. Though her heart did a little jump when she realized she was laid atop the gorgeous chaise longue by the very handsome man. Despite her piqued curiosity, she maintained a straight face repressing the grimace that taunted her facial muscles, taking one of the seats opposite them with a tentative grin. But she could not pretend, wonder seeping through her features as to what sick game the company played, they had to be fraudsters.

'You seem distraught with questions. Disappointed, are you? Not the CEO who were expecting? Not the lady in the magazines?' The CEO asked forwardly yet calm for no reason, like she was accustomed to this type of reaction.

'Ma?' Embarrassment flushed Marjorie's cheeks so quickly she dropped her gaze before the woman read her further.

'A few people know about my state. But I am Agnes Crawford, and the young lady was my heir. Now dead..' Agnes laid emphasis on 'dead', as if daring Marjorie to feel sorry for her. Cold. and Ruthless. Not an ounce of sympathy as she spoke even of her daughter's death. Her professionalism cracked Marjorie open like a sharp cutlass on the bark of a tree. A sudden wave of guilt and sadness washing over Marjorie as she realized what she had done. She was ashamed of herself for having arduously pushed the woman into defending her title by divulging a story filled with so much grief, she should have controlled her judgemental features, slapped her own cheeks if it was needed.

'My apologies ma.'

'Do not apologize for your own curiosity. It is your strength.'

Marjorie nodded in disorientation, swallowing the dried spittle in her mouth. How could this woman be so perfectly collected even in this moment?

'Do you have friends?'

Caught off guard, she did not answer.

'Time is of essence miss. Friends?'

Yes. No? What was the catch? Advantage? Disadvantage? Was it a test?

'I do.'

'You can't have friends with this job, I'll be entrusting my secrets with you. Friends are not allowed. Relationships too, and you report directly to me if problems are encountered in your position.'

No friends? What was this? A cult? Perhaps Agnes feared she would secretly take pictures of her and show it her friends over a chatty dinner.

'Apart from your salary which is eight hundred thousand naira per month, you will be provided a house, if you want...'

'Pardon me Madam...? About my friends, what do you mean by I can't have them with this job?'

Agnes grew impatient with Marjorie's question, motioning her son to continue the interview. Her body was stressed, it craved massage and sleep, yet her determination to go through with the interview herself pushed her to remain rooted in her seat and not in her bed.

'No worries Miss Marjorie, you can leave if you're not interested.' The son answered after an eon of silence, giving his mother the time to recover.

Not interested? Marjorie needed explanations...

'I am madam and sir. I just, I mean it's just.... can I hang out with them once in a month or something.'

The man chuckled richly, and for a moment Marjorie forgot herself. Her brows slightly furrowed as she observed the depth of his gaze, piercing and almost scary but also hypnotizing and unique. Dark eyes that made her want to forgo this interview, pull him by the collar to stare deeper till she was lost. Those beautiful pools were sheltered by dark long lashes and healthy arched brows that sat above them. A proud roman nose protruding from his gorgeously squared face, a little above plump succulent lips at the center of a dark garden of neatly trimmed beard. His shoulders were broad, assuring her he worked out, she was about to strip him with her eyes when his mouth started moving again.

'My dear it is a simple choice, your friends or your career. You will be well taken care of and your friends will wish they were you. We are just trying to avoid distractions.'

'Are you in a relationship sweetie?' Agnes suddenly asked, feeling better than before.

'No I'm not. We broke up last week, he cheated on me with some gorgeous model, one would think we would have gotten married. Can you imagine how insensitive he was? It was all over social media, he kissed the girl, in public! And my friends had the audacity to advise me on not forsaking the idea of men, I say I am totally done, you see cause...'

The man cleared his throat, causing her to freeze with regret. She looked at her companions apologetically and casting her gaze back to ground, blaming Franklin for her rambling and leeching embarrassment. Agnes' face saying the unspoken words 'You are pathetic and unfit for this job.'

'I'm sorry for your loss. You can have sex with whoever you want though, in and out of the company but neither date nor fall in love.'

It was sweet relief for Marjorie understanding Agnes took no interest in her story. The woman exuded professionalism to it's core, it was almost terrifying yet alluring.

Marjorie's mind wagered between the requirements, and as stupid as they sounded, she agreed with them. Perhaps that was what she needed. A hot moment with the hot man in the room, no strings attached, just therapeutic sex. He even winked at her, causing her belly to roar with heat, no doubt butterflies.

'Do you agree to the terms?' Agnes inquired casually, ignoring the weird signals between Marjorie and her son.

'I do.'

'Great, and oh... you'll be trained on the job. I'll be your tutor for six months, you'll be given a crash course in etiquette and martial arts.' The son announced, killing the tension at once.

Marjorie's eyes burgeoned to the point of explosion, did she hear martial arts? When was the last time she visited the gym? The requirements were silly and amusing, almost suspicious like she did not apply for the job of an assistant but of a spy in the military. Doubts set in, not because she had to learn martial arts, but the understanding that the company had been lying to people for years about the CEO. And the secrets? Were they dangerous? Why did she have to break bond with her friends?

Everything screamed spooky with the manner her acquaintances observed her like they dared her to reverse the agreement, chicken out of the job.

'My dear, you look pale.' Agnes pointed out with a concealed smile, a little annoyed and intrigued by the girl's weakness. Marjorie was definitely not who she envisioned as her assistant but she had chosen Marjorie for personal reasons even though she needed someone already exposed to their way of life.

Marjorie shook her head unsteadily, wiping the perspiration off her forehead with the back of her hand.

Say no. This job is a trap! Her head screamed so loud she feared they might hear.

'Are you sure you are okay with our agreement, your face says otherwise.' The son added with a quirked brow.

Second chance, say no!

'Yes. I'm totally in.'

She knew it was a terrible idea, but somehow she connived with the idea of plunging into this promising adventure that would either scar her or make her. It was about proving herself to Agnes and herself, and maybe she also looked forward to the promising wink from the gorgeous man in the room.

As for her friends, she had other plans. Plans she hoped would work if she approached with skillful stealth.

'Seriously? You got the job!?' Miranda shrieked through the phone, causing Marjorie to cringe, her face contorted into a tight grimace.

'I did.' She answered, sitting by her window and staring into the night. She wondered what her employers were doing by this time. There were probably having dinner in a five star restaurant or laughing their heads off in their home movie theater having the most vintage wine from their wine cellar. She was sure as hell they did not care about what she did presently, defying them by phoning her friend. Then why did she feel guilt? And terror?

'Danielle? Her number isn't connecting. What's up with her?' Marjorie asked with a tight frown on her face, unsure if she was more worried about her other friend not taking her call or if somehow her employers had bugged her phone. Taking a sip from the now tepid cup of tea she'd made to calm her nerves, she sighed deeply and pretended to shake off the weird feeling in her gut.

'Dan is probably shooting a movie or network problems. I learnt they're shooting in the outskirts of town though.' Miranda added with a girly chuckle that was definitely unrelated to their conversation but to her fiance kissing her neck.

'Okay time to go! Stop it you naughty... Talk to you later, love you Marj...'

As soon as Miranda cut the call Marjorie's phone began to ring, it startled her a bit as she thought it was her employer. Though she had to admit she did not know what to expect, they might have been crazy enough to really bug her phone.

She checked the caller's ID warily only to realize it was an unknown number.

Pick it up dummy, your employer would not concern herself with your trivial life. She convinced herself.

So she picked up.

'Hello?'

'Hi? It's Zack...'

'Zack? Who's Zack?'

'Agnes' Son. I was present at your final interview.'

She frozed, her mind rumbling around the coincidence of his call the second she dropped the phone with her friend.

'Are you there Miss Marjorie?'

'Y..Yes I'm right here sir.'

'Okay. I'll send you an address, dress comfortably, we will be having our first fitness class.'

Wait? Her first fitness class? As in martial arts fitness class? She exhaled in relief. But with him...? She flushed.

'Miss Marjorie?' Her name coming from his mouth sent sweet chills down her abdomen. A vibration alongside an embarrassing heat that flooded her face and somewhere between her thighs.

'Errm? Tonight?' She wasn't sure what she asked of him tonight.

'Really Marjorie?'

Did he just get informal with her? Call her by her first name? Woah... She was getting really heated in the wrong areas.

'We are not witches. Tomorrow. 5:00am to be exact, not a minute more, and bring your liquid.'

Her liquid? She hoped he meant water and not her bodily fluid. Cause she had them already peeking for him.

'Okay sir.'

Beep.

That was close.

_______

Her lungs collapsed, causing her to cough repeatedly, mouth agape in effort to force air into her body. She staggered, almost falling when he caught her, a huge hand supporting her back from under and his other hand pulling her up professionally. He even smiled at her like he had not been personal with the kick to her chest.

'Breathe. Breathe. You're fine.'

His voice again!

But she was not fine, the impact on her chest had left her in sheer panic, mind disgruntled by the fact that her employer intended to hurt her and not train her. Though her upper body was in his arms, his glorious face looking down at her making her mind rumble carelessly so much that she rolled off him to sit up on her own, sending him scary glares that disguised her intoxication of him.

'Take it from me, you're one hell of a warrior. That blow would've rendered anyone unconscious.'

Err, was she supposed to smile? Throw her arms around him in gratitude? And yes, she could manage pain, that did not mean she welcomed it when it was unnecessary.

'Hey. It was not my fault.' Zack laughed throwing his hands up innocently, though his eyes said otherwise, that he enjoyed taunting her. 'I told you to defend, but you left yourself open. Lesson for next time I guess. Take a shower, my mother will see you in an hour.'

See her!? She should see a surgeon or a therapist, a lawyer or anyone that would save her from this maniacal requirement.

Patience. She chided herself. She would understand the reason for the requirements soon enough.

'Yes sir.'

'Good girl. I hope you brought formal clothes though? This one's all soaked in sweat.'

Obviously! No wait... She didn't think work resumed today, she had imagined herself arriving work in pink leggings, a strained white t-shirt drenched in her own sweat with locks of hair plastered to hair wet face.

'My clothes are...not here. I'd take a bike home and back, real easy.' She said, preparing to dash out of the gym without whining about how inconsiderate he was.

'Lies love. Lies. You won't make it in time. Well as it is your first day, I'd let this mistake slide, help you out on this one. I have a closet that should suit your need.' Marjorie burst into a hysterical laughter, coughing in-between. Did he really think she would wear his clothes to work?

'Have you seen yourself sir? I am a feet smaller and... Oh my goodness I'm sorry sir, I meant to say...' She clamped her lips shut with horror in her eyes for having disrespected him for a second.

Of course he was taking aback by the swerve of informality, as he blamed himself for having gone a little too soft on her. She should find her own clothes or let his mom deal with her ignorance.

'Female clothes Miss Marjorie. You should find a your perfect size at my house.' He explained instead, watching her mouth roll into an 'oh'.

His calm tone astonished her but in a comforting way, he was after all not going to fire her for the unintended insubordination. But she questioned going to his house, its not like it was closer or something. She did not trust him, or rather, trust herself. Like she had held her breath half the training, stopping herself from sniffing him like a dog or running her hand over his naked chest.

'My house is twenty minutes from here. But thanks.' She sounded convincing, though a little quaky at the end as she held her belly to curb the jab of pain that made her wince.

'Well mine is five minutes. In thirty minutes you should be prepared to meet your employer, or be ten minutes late and let her deal with you.' He countered wisely, ignoring her wince. She did a mental calculation and discovered he was annoyingly right, she would not make it in time and God help her, she did not want to get on Agnes' bad side.

'I'll go with you sir.'