Helen was Chad's mother. She was overbearing and we tried to avoid her as much as we could. She believed in love as well, and she always gave us an earful whenever we ran into her.

I remember how ecstatic she had been when Chad fell in love with Zara. Rumor even has it that she was secretly planning a wedding before the break up. And since then we have avoided her.

The joke about Aaron dealing with her vanished as soon as the elevator started descending.

I was once again overwhelmed by the duties that were waiting for me. I still had to interview over 20 applicants. And by 2pm, I had a board meeting scheduled. A board meeting that will undeniably leave me weary. Dealing with the Elders was always a draining experience and I can't deal with any of these events with my current state of mind.

The urge to get high came once more, and I pushed it away. As much as I could handle it, but I doubt I would stop at the required dose. With how stressed I am, I fear I might allow myself to drift into oblivion.

The Elders have been looking for something to hold on to. Anything to prove that I was unworthy of being the CEO of the Wellington Empire. And I hated those pricks enough that I would never give them a reason or an incentive to foster their suspicions.

Suffice to say, smoking was not an option. I need not only be clear headed for my interview and meeting, but relaxed as well.

And there's only one activity that could help me with that. Even before I discovered this fact, I have always known about how climax or release can leave one in a relaxed and contented state. Especially after I first tried it when I was just twelve.

But I'm not talking about masturbating, at least not by myself. Why would I go through the stress of doing that, when there are a myriad of girls and ladies who perform magic with their tongues?

I NEED YOU AT FALLING STARS HOTEL, ASAP.

I read the text again and decided that 'need' was kinda a strong word. In fact, the whole thing reeked of desperation and I truly can't have the bitch thinking that Richard Wellington needed her.

Deleting the whole thing. I typed;

GET YOUR ASS TO FALLING STARS HOTEL NOW!

Beaming at how like me the second text sounded, I tapped on the send button.

In less than 5 seconds, I got a reply.

ALREADY ON MY WAY. BE THERE IN TEN.

As Lanke and I exited the elevator, I ordered him to get me a room and wait in the car afterwards.

Normally, Falling Stars Hotel was always occupied, with a wait-list if any room was vacant. But when your last name is Wellington, nothing is impossible.

"Right this way, Sir" the petite staff said, failing to hide the surprise on her face, as she tried not to stare too hard.

I followed her a bit hastily for fear of running into Lindsey again, through the gold carved door on the left side of the lobby. It opened to a gold painted hallway with marble floors of the same hue. Doors lined both sides of the hall and she led me to the one with the tag 'GX7', handing me the key card, she squeaked,

"I hope the comfort of our Gold Express Room is to your satisfaction, Mr Wellington!"

Tossing her minted notes of $100, I said as she scrambled for the notes,

"That's for your silence and stealthiness in bringing my guest here"

"Kind and charming. Exactly how I pictured you would be." she beamed.

Had I not been in a disheveled state already, I would've gotten her ass fired. Just to show her that I wasn't any of those things. I hated my name in the same sentence as kind, I love being feared and I don't care how cruel and odd that sounds.

"I doubt you would still think that when I make sure you're not only fired, but no place would ever hire you again, if a whiff of any of these crosses those doors." I intoned. My voice, extra harsh.

A wicked satisfied grin stretched my face, as I felt her tense and her smile disappeared. Raising an eyebrow when she didn't offer a response, she stuttered,

"My… I'm sorry – my lips are sealed… Sir" she demonstrated by imitating zipping her lips.

"Good. Now get out of my sight"

She didn't have to be told twice. If not for the sake of disturbing customers behind those doors, I know she would've run out instead.

I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a jot of satisfaction as I watched her scurry out of the hall, without even offering me another glance.

I have occasionally been to the Falling Stars Hotel, but I have never been to this part of it. But there again, I have never lounged in the hotel.

Sliding the key card, I was impressed by the sight that welcomed me. And I'm rarely impressed.

The lavish suite was designed to resemble a luxurious train car, hence the name, with rich, velvety gold accents and dark wood paneling that evoked the opulence of a bygone era. Plush, cream-colored furnishings and lavish textiles adorned the spacious room, complete with a sprawling king-size bed, a lavish living area, and a sleek, marble-lined bathroom.

As I walked in, I was greeted by a stunning gold-leaf ceiling and a breathtaking chandelier, casting a warm, golden glow throughout the room. The walls were adorned with exquisite artwork and ornate mirrors, that added to the sense of grandeur. Every detail, from the crystal glassware to the 24-karat gold fixtures, exuded refinement and glamor.

It even boasted of a balcony. On the left side of the room was a glass door curtained by gold embroidered flowy silks. On the lintel, written in gold cursive writing was "Pièce de Résistance".

Cool morning breeze swept at me as I threw the glass doors ajar. Standing on marble floors just like those in the hallway, I was offered a breathtaking view of the city from such a low angle, and the bustle and hustle of traffic were surprisingly muffled.

Seven minutes later, as I sat on the extra soft king-sized bed, sipping a cup of whiskey. A chime like the tooting of a train, but somehow melodic and less noisy, rang through the room.

I walked to the door and there was my guest, Cassie Sams.

Cassie was the girl I met in Australia. I had gone for the commissioning of our Sydney branch. I met her at the Sydney Opera House. I had been bored at the number being played, and my date, Erica Wood, couldn't care less. She was so enraptured by the concert that I ached to punch the admiration off her face.

Cassie Sams sat behind us, and she noticed my frustration. I remember her intoxicating rosy perfume, as she leaned in and whispered to my ear.

"I couldn't help, but notice that you are finding this less enjoyable as I am. Why don't you meet me outside in five, and we can do something about the boredom."

I have always loved girls who were observant, wild and unafraid. I love taming them, so five minutes after she left, I pecked Erica who hardly noticed and left.

I wasn't surprised when I realized seconds later that Cassie knew who I was. So she had modeled for one of our collections three years ago.

Neither did I protest when she led me towards the Green room. It was void of performers and there she gave me the best blowjob I've ever had.

Ever since that moment which really hasn't been that long, just a few months ago. I have kept the angelic opera singer close, treating her to luxury so that she would always be available at my beck and call.

We've fucked a couple times, but I mostly keep her for the wonders she could do with her tongue and mouth. Maybe the magic was because she's an opera singer, but those red lips were a ticket to heavenly bliss.

Basking under the glow of the gold lights and surroundings, her blond curls shone like pure gold, her skin glowed and her jade eyes sparkled.

Even in something as simple as black Nike hoodie, blue high waist jean shorts, and white sneaks, she was beautiful.

Her choice of attire showed that she had come directly from wherever she had been and its simplicity offered discretion. Even if we exited at the same time, no one would believe the gentleman in suit was ever with such a simple girl.

"Hello handsome" she said, by way of greeting in that singsong voice of hers, as I led her inside.

"I was a bit surprised by your text. It sounded urgent so I didn't bother going back to my hotel room to change. So, what do you need this time?" She pruned tugging at her hoodie.

I liked the fact that she understood what we had, or should I say what I kept her for. Many with a promising career like her would find it wrength to be in the service of a man. But I'm not any man, I am Richard fucking Wellington and it's an honor to be in my servitude.

"What you are wearing is fine, I like it. It's simple and sly." I said draining my glass to dregs in one gulp. "Stop, you don't need to take it off, I don't intend for our meeting to last long. I just need your mouth"

"Where?" She asked as she stalked towards me, licking her lips.

Already feeling the effects of her gaze and words, I sat back on the bed, propping myself with my arms and huskily murmured,

"You know exactly where"

With a lot of restraint, I watched her take off her hoodie revealing red swollen cleavage threatening to burst out of her black lacy bra. Then slowly she squatted between my spread legs, unbuckled my Armani brown belt, lazily pulled my pants inches below revealing a rod eager to be free from the white Calvin Klein brief.

I felt myself tense as she ran her tongue again and again on the bulge. The wetness, making my rod almost transparent.

She was aware of the effect she had on me and she reveled in it. It was part of our agreement to let her do as she pleased so long as I'm also pleased in the process. And she hated it when my hands tried to aid.

"Not for long" I thought as she slowly pulled my brief, freeing the beast.

"Fuck yeah" The words escaped my lips as she caressed my tip with her tongue. Round and round she went, a playful glint on her eyes.

I bit on my lower lip as another moan almost escaped my lips. My fingers gripped the duvet as she tickled my dick hole with her tongue.

Already I was quivering with desire. Something was building in me, as she teased and tickled. And she was yet to begin.

Throwing my head back, I yelled "Fuck!" as she finally took me whole.

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

She went, her mouth and tongue bringing me ever closer to finish.

"Faster! Faster!" I called.

Her right hand closed around my shaft, stroking and thrusting it into her mouth in swift motions.

I was close. I could feel it. "Go–" and she stopped. My supposed release screeched to a halt. And "God!", as I wanted to yell, died on my lips in mid pronunciation.

I opened my eyes to find her smiling, as she tickled my balls.

"Why the hell did you stop?! Couldn't you fucking tell that I was close?"

"But I wasn't and besides, blue balls before a release makes it worth so much more. Don't ask me how I know, just trust me" and she took me again slurping slower this time.

I was beyond pissed. Apparently, she seemed to have taken my familiarity for granted. What gave her the right to stop when I didn't tell her?

It dawned on me that the line between casual and what she wanted, has blurred. As if on cue, I remembered Chad and the state he was reduced to by a girl.

As my anger simmered, my hands flew to head, sinking into the soft gold curls and I pounded into her mouth.

Drool oozed from her mouth as I thrust faster and faster. She coughed again and again, turning deep red as I felt my shaft ridge the edge of her throat. But I didn't stop, she had to be taught a lesson. She had to be reminded of her place.

Her folded palms frantically pounded on my laps, and I never gave her the chance to form words.

Just as I felt her slipping away to unconsciousness, I came with enough force that I flooded her mouth and every muscle in my body, tautened.

My pits itched. Sweat drenched it and certain parts of my body. My sides burned.

I have been running. Ever since I left Gary and now I must wade through these herd of onlookers.

"Sorry. Pardon me. Coming through" I kept saying as I tried to push my way through the packed crowd.

"Girl!, you better not step on my sneaks. They're limited edition" a girl said as I pushed past her.

"Sorry" I called, not bothering to look back. In truth, I wanted to retort "If they are, then why don't you move them out of the way" cause clearly she didn't deserve an apology. She was one of those people 'Live' on PipPop.

PipPop was an app that allowed people to go 'Live' in situations like the one before me. In doing so, they kept people informed of what's happening at the present. Those watching then comment and react.

The app also allowed uploading of videos and clips which can also be reacted or commented on.

"You are a prick!" The man in blue overalls shouted.

"Your brokenness is your problem. Better quit this waste of time for a job you have. I can even help you with one if you can put your pride aside" The other man in polo and jeans called back.

I had wanted to move through the crowd, and I did, but somehow I had managed to get in front of the situation.

Inches from where I was, the yellow and black "DO NOT CROSS" tapes of cops marked the crime scene. Beyond the tapes, the men were restrained by two hunks of cops. But apparently, they couldn't do much about the curses they hauled at each other.

"Privileged prick! How can someone like you give me a job when at this time of the day, you are drunk and high already? Looking at you, I can already tell that you've never worked a day in your life, so leave me to waste my time, but at least I don't go around crashing into others and denying responsibility." The man in overalls retorted.

On the left side of his overalls was a gold and blue threaded embroidery of a man carrying a box with the words just below the silhouette.

"RealTime Delivery Services

(Keeping deliveries real and quick)"

A white van with the same logo in blue and gold blocked the road with all four of its tires punctured. And just a few inches from the taillight was a dent. The silver gray Porsche blocked by the van wasn't looking so nice either. All four of its tires were punctured too and the fender looked like something that received a Superman punch.

"Maybe if your folks had worked as hard as you are working now, then you wouldn't have to be broke."

"Asshole, how dare you drag my parents into this!" the man in overalls yelled, trying to break free from the arms holding him in place.

I doubt he would do much with the cuffs on his hands, but I could be wrong. The anger that reddened his face and the hate in his eyes really could give me a run for my money.

The rich prick, yeah, I certainly think he is a prick. He made to offer a retort, but a girl pushed past me and her words drowned out his.

"Oh Pan46, I totally agree with you, the delivery guy should be released. After all, it was the rich asshole who ran into him and tried to speed away. Can you believe people? Rosedan55, you get it. The rich can be real bitches. Hey, AnnaT66, don't come onto me, I just echoed a comment. You don't have to take it personal…"

It was the same girl on PipPop, and apparently she was really generating reactions and comments. Her phone screen was blowing up with thumbs up and different heart colored emojis.

"Hey, would you like to make a live comment?" she asked, tapping my shoulder.

I hated being thrown into the spotlight like that. Don't get me wrong, I reveled in attention, but not when it's sprung on me.

I watched an awkward me from her screen as she threw her arm across my shoulder.

"Em.. erm, what sup guys" I began.

"Definitely Sassy44, she's cute, but shy. Oh don't be rude, Terry18, you can't tell her to fuck off."

Different reactions colored her screen - red and purple devil emojis, red 'X', even clown emojis and most comments were hateful.

DD53

"Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?"

Gab31

"You are cute as hell when you are shy"

Fuck23

"Just say something or get the hell out of there!"

"You hear them girl, say something or bounce!" the girl practically yelled at my ear.

Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to get as far away from them as possible, but knowing my generation. If I leave, I could trend as a coward for weeks, if not months. I may keep a low profile on my socials, but with my face, they would find me and troll me as long as they wanted.

After repeating "I can do this" several times in my mind, I squared my shoulders and spoke,

"Hello guys, you really have to give a girl a break. My life is crazy right about now"

"Heart" emojis reacted to my words.

"4Ever, thank you, but I believe I can get through it and thank you guys for your support. Anyways, yeah I totally agree, some rich folks can be real bitches. They are privileged pricks who think their wealth gives them an edge over others. I mean, why would someone crash into another and instead of apologizing, he tries to race away and wait, I hear he was as drunk and high as fuck when he did it. Should he even be driving on such state?, like seriously WHAT THE FUCK!"

I excused myself, embarrassed that I had allowed my anger to rise that much. It really didn't need much motivation, the situation with the blond guy earlier was all it needed. But not before seeing the girl's screen almost blinded by likes, emojis and comments.

"Heww! That girl really hate them rich folks. But can you blame her…" she was saying, before I walked beyond earshot.

I wasn't really proud or happy about some of the things I said, but I kinda felt lighter after that vent.

Still it doesn't make it right nor does the drive to document everything, to trend, which is slowly becoming a virus with my generation, right.

I have seen situations where two grown ass men or women are fighting, the kind where clothes are shredded and fatality holds a tier. But instead of people trying to separate them, they rather go 'Live' and generate comments and reactions.

Only after that, do they actually give a fuck about those fighting. And most times, a lot of damage has been done already.

I shoved through the crowd again, this time not even bothering to be polite or apologetic. Seconds later, it was all behind me, the screams, the raised phones, even journalists reporting the situation, little help that would do when more than twenty persons had been screening the event minutes before their arrival.

I stopped to button down my coat, hiding the lewd crop shirt I knotted below my midriffs and tied my belt.

The look was really not giving a fashion sense, but there wasn't a look Sofia Blake couldn't pull off. Tossing back my hair, I continued my dash.

Two more turns, and I screeched to a halt as the pencil architectural design skyscraper of the famous Wellington Empire loomed in front of me.

Set between shorter glass buildings with LED screens showing ads. Fashion ads, trending designer jewelries, tech, movies, shows and even recent news. In the very heart of the hub of New City, it cast a shadow of dominance and rayed the early morning light of the sun.

"My future here I come" I said with optimism as I approached the building.

Pushing my way through the revolving glass door, a wow escaped my lips as I stood surrounded by grandeur.

It was high ceilinged (at least 20 feet) with recessed lighting. Walls clad in polished white and gold marble. On both sides, right and left were a grand, sweeping staircase connecting the lobby to upper floors.

Between the staircases, two elevators stood demarcated by a floor to ceiling LED screen that showed the current CEO of the company – Richard Wellington, in different attires all accentuated with dark shades. Jeans and shirts, jeans and polos, shirts and pants, suits and coats.

The youngest CEO according to New City Fashion Review, Bogue and other fashion headliners, after succeeding his father, Edward Wellington at the age of 22.

The dark haired Olympian God, dazzled in every picture, no matter the attire. There was even one that showed him wearing a tailored white dishdasha, adorned with intricate gold embroidery. A matching keffiyeh scarf wrapped elegantly around his neck, secured with a simple yet ornate agal. His feet were clad in polished black leather babouche slippers, adorned with subtle silver thread patterns. A sleek, silver-trimmed Oud wood fragrance flask hung from his neck.

Normally the attire would look stupid on most people, but with the dark shades that rimmed his eyes, Richard Wellington rocked the look like a true Arabian prince.

When he stepped in as the new CEO, within just a year, every news channel or gossip column carried the feed about the progress this beau had managed to accomplish. I started following him on all socials, he was a progeny. An icon in the fashion world.

The designs he came up with were second to none. And when he rocked any of them, the eyes just couldn't get enough of him.

At one point, I thought of him as a mentor, but then I got wind of his character. Especially after the Rosa Ross scandal.

Rosabella Rossi or 'Rosa Ross' as she preferred to be called, was regarded as the most beautiful woman in 2018 after winning the 'World Most Beautiful' that year.

Months after that, she was seen with Richard Wellington. The duo was everyone's favorite couple. They trended on all socials with hashtags like, #RR, #RiRosa, #RichRosa and the likes.

It lasted only 8 months before, the news of Richard's rakish reputation blazed like wildfire on the internet. Apparently, he had been cheating on Rosabella from the start and he was so good at covering his tracks that it took her 8 months to discover.

The video of her weeping and cursing Richard till date remains one of the most viral posts ever. Reaching up to one third of the world population.

Testimonies from other victims surfaced after that and the darling of the fashion world became a monster. The annoying part of it all was that he didn't care about any of it.

I remember a statement he made during that period when a journalist out of all others who hoarded him had managed to halt him with his question.

"Mr Wellington, are you truly as bad as the media is painting you?

"I'm afraid the things they say are just understatements"

I unfollowed him after that and though the world has started forgiving him, I simply can't.

Yeah I know, if I can't stand the guy then why am I here? Well, my position if I can secure it will be as a clerk and I doubt I would ever run into the guy.

In the heart of the vast lobby was a dramatic fountain-like revolving glass case. Within the glass case were jewels and watches of different brands.

Brands that partnered with the Wellington Empire like Glance, Ixe and others I don't know their names.

Suspended above the glass case, was the majestic Wellington Fashion Empire logo – the double WW merged within a circle, all in silver.

Bright, airy natural light poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows. And recessed LED lighting and designer chandeliers or pendant lights

highlighted architectural features.

On the walls were striking, large-scale art installations and fashion photography like their past collections showcasing models on the runway.

There were also elegant, minimalist displays showcasing Wellington Fashion Empire's latest designs and glimpses of what the new collection would look like.

"Good morning and welcome to Wellington. What brings you to our fashion domain?" a woman donning the black tee with the Wellington logo engraved boldly at the right in silver, asked me.

Other staff, at least those I could see at the lobby, wore the same tee, matching it with dark jeans.

"Good morning, I'm really hoping that I haven't missed it, but I'm here for the interview"

"That's alright. Go and meet with any of our receptionists, I'm sure they will be of help. Do have yourself a beautiful day!" she intoned, her face radiant with a kind smile.

I suppose that's what her job entailed, smiling and welcoming customers to the Wellington headquarters, and no matter how bad things are in her life, she still

has to smile and beam like all is perfect. How exhausting that can be.

"Hello and Welcome to Wellington, how may I help you?" the receptionist on the farthest right asked as I stood before her.

Wait. I know that face.

"Emily James! Is it really you?" I asked, unable to hide my astonishment.

"Oh my God, Sofia Blake, what are you doing here?"

She still looked the same from the last time I saw her during my internship at Bogue. Freckled face, coppery hair and the kindest brown eyes. She wore a black dress shirt with buttons of silver and the Wellington logo embroidered at the right in shimmering silver.

I couldn't see what she complimented it with. Their desk was raised.

"I really can't believe my eyes, so Emily you work here now? That's amazing" I answered, looking at her with pride.

"It's a long story, one I hope I can share with you one day over drinks or something if you can ever leave that hell of a house."

"That's part of why I'm here actually, my application for the position of a clerk was accepted and I'm here for the interview"

"Do you mean the same interview that was scheduled for 10am today? Come on Sof, you are an hour late." She answered.

"I know, Alicia and her evil daughters made sure of it. They even wrecked the clothes I was supposed to wear, but instead of deciding that I have lost it at home. I decided to come and find out myself, at least it's better than regretting afterwards"

"Again, I still don't know what you are still doing in that house, just leave or run away–"

"It's not that easy," I interjected.

"Fine. Well, like I said the interview was scheduled for an hour ago, but… I'm really not supposed to tell you this, but you are my friend, one I haven't seen in a while." Leaning close so only me would hear, she went on, "Due to some circumstances, the interview hasn't started yet and I hear the boss just arrived. If you can hurry, I doubt anyone would notice if you join the others on the 50th floor and yes take the elevator."

I took her hands and said,

"Em, how can I ever repay you for this? You are truly an amazing friend."

Squeezing my hands in return, she said,

"Get out of here already, Sof. Don't thank me now until you get that job, I will love nothing more than seeing your face everyday and besides this is nothing compared to what you did for me. In fact that I'm here now, I owe it to you"

"I doubt that, anyway I hope we'll talk about it later. Once again thank you so much, Em"

"Go already!, and goodluck"

I had helped Emily during our internship at Bogue. She lacked fashion sense and people ridiculed her for it, until I showed her how to channel that uniqueness and still rock her style.

We partnered on several projects. And that cemented our friendship. We confided in each other and shared a lot with one another. But I never would've guessed seeing her here, working as one of the receptionists at Almighty Wellington.

The elevator was about to close when I stuck my bag into the gap, keeping it from closing.

"Sorry" I said, not bothering to take in the man in shades behind me as I took my place inches away from him.

"Leave" I heard him gruff behind me as I waited for him to press a button.

"Excuse me"

"Oh don't act dumb, I'm pretty sure I didn't stutter"

"What is wrong with this man?" I pondered. Is he really allergic to people or wait, he must be one of those privileged pricks who think sharing the elevator with others is below his status.

Trying not to be rude even as I felt my anger rising,

"Sir, I'm sure we can enjoy this ride in peace, just press the button and I will do my best to pretend that I'm not even here"

"I don't need you to pretend, what I need is very simple. Exit the elevator or do you have hearing difficulties?" he said in that privileged tone I've been hearing all my life from Alicia, her girls, the blondie I met minutes ago, even the rich prick that ran into the delivery guy.

I hate to insult someone on my very first day here, so I tried leniency again,

"Please Sir, I'm in a hurry and I need this ride, so–"

"So just exit the elevator, because there's no way this thing is moving unless you leave!" He yelled, cutting me off.

People at the lobby were staring now as the elevator remained open. My anger had risen to the surface and there's no way in hell, I was going to let another privileged prick tell me what to do just because life deals easy with him.

So, damning the consequences, I grumbled,

"Suit yourself. I'm not leaving and if you will die sharing a ride with me then I suggest you leave instead"

"Wait, what did you just say?" He was angry now and I know he must've turned red like a cherry about to burst, yet I didn't look at him nor did I care.

"I'm pretty certain I didn't stutter" I

replied, my voice laced with quiet rage.

"JUST FUCKING LEAVE" he yelled, almost deafening my ears.

"Oh you're angry, well so am I" I said as I punched on the button with the number 50.

Just before the elevator dinged shut, I made out a couple security guards dashing towards us and a frightened Emily saying,

"Oh my God, Sofia do you even have any idea who you are talk-"

And the gold plated bars of the elevator dinged shut.