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Post by steph5 on Dec 6, 2011 12:29:03 GMT -5
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Over the phone, he sounded cold. She wouldn't let the impression ruin her chance of making more than her usual hourly rate. She had heard of him, of his history, since it was normal for her to look up the history of wealthy men so she would know what she was getting into and who to avoid (domestic violence? steer clear). He wanted to meet her at the Ritz the following night, tonight, at exactly ten pm to discuss what it was exactly he wanted her to do. If he was only looking for sex, she was going to have to deny him despite the amount of money she could get from it. With dinner added, she didn't feel so much like a prostitute. She was a call girl. She kept wealthy men from feeling lonely and from looking lonely. She went with them to weddings in different countries and states, all paid for, in order for them not to look so silly sitting in their seat with an empty one next to them. She only slept with them if they paid her extra. If not...she didn't go near their dicks even if her life depended on it.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she made sure to look as professional as possible. She left her scarlet locks down and polished and slipped on her six hundred dollar heels. Yeah, she made a lot more money now but they still lived in the small house. She just couldn't afford a bigger one. Her occupation demanded she look like she was worth the money without looking slutty. She left the slutty outfits for her side job at the strip club. Clad in a form fitting blazer, skinny tuxedo pants, a fitting nude top, and her accessories, she thought she looked pretty damn professional...at least that's how she saw other women of money dress. If it was up to her, she'd wear sundresses and flat everywhere or jeans, t shirt, and boots. She wasn't too big on heels. She couldn't run in them. It was a bit colder than usual outside which was odd for California but since she lived right next to the beach, it wasn't all that uncommon for the temperatures to drop so much at night. Grabbing her coat, she called the taxi ahead of time and locked up the house before she left. Neisha was out with a couple friends and Sabby said she had to stay late at school to work on a paper so she figured that was fine. Ugh, she really had to stop acting like their mother but what could she do? Despite their ages, nineteen and twenty three respectively, she still had to take care of them because no one else would. Sabby was too arrogant and prideful while Neisha was too impulsive and immature. Isla knew she had to be the one to balance them out and keep them together if not...then what would become of them?
Getting into the cab with a practiced grace, she gave him the address of the hotel and they were there within half an hour. She was a good ten minutes early and since the room was on the top floor, it gave her plenty of time to go and find it. Once on the top floor, she started down the carpeted hallway toward the presidential suite. Why would he need such a large room to himself? She never understood the wealthy. She'd been so dirt poor with barely anything to eat up until recent years that even now she made sure Sabby and Neisha didn't waste any of their food or electricity or water. The only thing they would normally splurge on was their education. She knocked on the door twice, as was customary, and waited patient;y. Soon enough, what looked to be a butler opened the door and let her in, closing it behind her. She stood in the foyer, waiting for someone to tell her where to go. She knew how people could be. Go wandering around and the automatically assumed you were stealing.
"May I take your coat, madame?" the butler asked, "Oui," she said politely, "Merci," those were commonly known French words and with her thick French accent, it was easy to know what it meant. She let him slip off her coat and take it away to a closet. She was hoping she'd get it back. It was Versace. Fixing her blazer, shirt, and small purse a bit as she waited, she eventually saw someone who looked like the man of the hour. She'd gotten here exactly at 9:59. On time. She was extremely punctual. The day she wasn't was the day she was dead. She didn't say anything, since it was his "home" and she had always been taught that the host spoke up first before the guest as a sign of respect. So she looked at him expectantly waiting for him to say something and if he didn't, just the same she would remain tight lipped. Her ad in the far bottom of the personals section of the newspaper and back of magazines easily said she spoke French, Spanish, Portuguese, and English fluently. So he must know that customs and such were obviously important in knowing so many languages.
Once a greeting was produced, she gave a slight nod, "Hello, sir," she greeted him respectfully in English, having read up he had been born in California. Thank God for Wikipedia.
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Post by verdoux on Dec 6, 2011 17:40:52 GMT -5
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 words // 1200 // outfit // clicky // tagged // isla boy with a coin,
T H E N M A K I N G A W I S H , A N D T O S S E D I N T H E S E A “In this house, Hugo, every morning we can wake up by the sea, together for the rest of our lives together.”
Sleeping single in a large king-sized bed, every morning as he dozed in and out while the alarm clocked buzzed, he thought of his beautiful late wife, Kate. He thought of how her blonde hair would have spilled over her pillows and her beautiful blue eyes would twinkle with a little bit of happiness. The months leading up to her death that she spent carrying their first child, she glowed with the happiness of an expecting mother. She wanted their child more than she had wanted anything. She had asked him multiple times over, despite the risks, to please have a baby with her. To have a child with his most beloved wife, it sounded silly to others to not want such a thing.
Six months, one-hundred eighty-four days without his beloved Kate – every morning he woke up by the sea in the bed she passed in. Still together, in essence, until he died without her unless he fell in his sleep in this very bed – they would be together in the afterlife with their child. Now, the present day, he had more pressing matters at hand and he couldn’t spend the entire day dreaming about his late wife. He had to destroy an empire that rivaled his own.
He ate his usual breakfast, butter on toast, black coffee, an egg sunny-side up, and two thinly cut slices of bacon. He would then run two miles, work-out, shave, shower, dry-off, brush his teeth, and get dressed in his business attire. Today he wore his black suit; he only wore black, grey, and navy out of respect for Kate. He missed her, every day; she was present in his thoughts and never pushed aside for long. He loved her, like a man should love his wife. His only love, his first love, his love forever – Katherine “Kate” Charles.
An advertisement in the newspaper caught his attention; it would help pull his plan along very nicely. He needed an insider to get the one up to destroy his father and his bastard children, the many there could possibly be. Whatever the man had, he didn’t deserve any of it. No matter how many times he would call Hugo’s mother Ellie and tell her how much he loved her, Alaric was not to be trusted. He would be destroyed, by his first son, whether he saw it coming or not.
A call-girl, a very simple pawn to be used and he knew it. He would pay this woman to be an insider, a woman on his father’s arm and the most comfortable with him. Hugo knew that the man needed a new assistant and he had her ads removed from the newspapers by sheer hefty dollar amounts. This would have to be a private and well-executed plan.
He called her, telling her to go to the presidential suite where he often held most of his business that leaned more to his personal life. He sounded professional and he could appreciate that in a woman. He would be paying her to put all the stops on her life. All call-girl bookings, she would have to throw it all away. In exchange, he would pay her a favorable sum and hand-off one of his lower, but profitable businesses as he was looking to cut back on the empire. It depended on what the woman wanted, but he was sure the little and profitable high fashion boutiques would satisfy her.
He was there well before she would be, settling down his in his presidential suite at exactly 8 a.m. He looked over all possible information on her, where she lived, her sisters, and who she had been seen in public with. What she wore, where she worked, places she shopped, where her sister attended college, and who the younger one talked to. He discovered, in her findings, a younger brother that he never knew of and that he was engaged to her older sister. Hugo enjoyed the plan he had in motion. Juliette would ensure that Alaric Sr. would choose his little spy and his spy would get him all the information he needed. He would then take the most precious thing to that bastard and rip it away, destroying it and taking his empire for himself and his mother. He would ruin the man that at first ruined them.
His butler and also room-guard brought in the woman and he let her stand in the foyer as he took care of all her information. He wouldn’t have to pull them out until later. He slid it into his briefcase and stood, adjusting and smoothing out whatever wrinkles there might have been in his suit. As he walked to greet them, he adjusted his cuffs and found himself looking at her carefully. Her natural beauty wasn’t lost in pictures, he knew what to expect of her so he did glance at the door to make sure it was shut and then with his eyes tell the guard to go where he needed to stand.
“Good morning. If you will, follow me to the living room of this suite.” He led her to the section, extended a hand to the room before shutting the door after her. This was an extremely private matter. “Red with gold embroidery, please sit yourself there.” He said to her, it was an order and he didn’t take nicely if she didn’t do as told. He cracked the ice-cube tray and set them into glasses, bringing back two glasses of water before sitting down.
“This is not a job for me; I am not hiring you to be a woman on my arm. I do not need a woman,” he glanced at his wedding band but technically, he shouldn’t be wearing it. “I need a woman who is willing to be a fly on the wall. I need you to throw away all call-girl jobs, your stripping, and whatever else you may do.” He hinted toward prostitution, he wasn’t any fool. “To be hired as the personal assistant to my rival. Your job would be to relay information back to me and only to me. Once I have demolished my enemy, I will give you one of my assets to run as your own. You will be paid for each job you will lose or have to cancel, the average wage and tips you can get for stripping, and whatever else you’re paid to do. On top of these earnings, I will pay you a weekly wage you decide on, and on top of that you will be paid by your future employer. Our meetings will be in the form of dinner dates, as that is the only time I have open. You will be driven by a private driver to my house in a seemingly normal car. I will also pay for a wardrobe of a personal assistant. Your own clothes will be left untouched and you should only wear them in the leisure of your own home. Now tell me, Isla Tazi, are you willing to do this job?”
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Post by steph5 on Dec 6, 2011 18:38:37 GMT -5
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She did as she was told, letting him lead her to the living room and then sitting in the spot he told her to sit. As he spoke, her eyes tore away for a fraction of a second away from his face and to the wedding band still on his finger before looking at him again. He hadn't gotten remarried that she knew or heard of in recent times. He had just lost a wife hadn't he? A woman who, though beautiful, was much, much older than he was. Isla never had time to date anyone much less marry them. Yes, she had a few flings but her work took up too much time. Taking care of her sisters,all of it was more time consuming than she imagined and it was rare that she had any time to herself. She couldn't imagine being married to anyone. But the last thing she expected was for him to be as handsome as he was. With looks like that, she couldn't fathom why he hadn't remarried or at least found someone to keep him satisfied.
She tuned out her own thoughts, though, and focused on what he was saying. He basically wanted an extortionist? Then why the hell hire her? She knew absolutely nothing about blackmailing anyone. It wasn't her line of work and she locked her jaw at his implications of her being a prostitute...and him knowing about her being a stripper. She didn't know how he knew about that. She went under the alias Cherry (ha. Get it.) and with the dim lighting and such, she was usually not recognizable. Clients didn't normally dive into her life that way. Had he traced her roots back to the Ivory Coast? What if he knew about her parents being part of the rebels during the civil war instead of the side of the government? She didn't want to think about that. Not one bit.
She remained quiet, as she had been the entire time, after he finished, her eyes wavering as she looked out the window not far from her, thinking over exactly what he said and whether she should take it or not. She was doing fine, living fairly comfortably with the jobs she had now. But boiler did need to be replaced in the basement before winter rolled on by and she was sure with the upcoming wedding, she and Neisha would need to buy bridesmaid dresses and pay for whatever Alaric's father didn't feel like paying despite "adoring" Sabine, "I don't want a piece of your business," she said simply, her French/African accent strong, "I'm fine with everything else," she didn't want a piece of him-or any of him. Money was money was money and she needed it in order to live which was the only reason she would accept it. But she wouldn't take one of his businesses. No, she didn't want to be a part or or formerly a part of anything that had to do with the Charles family once this was all blown over and done with. She was going to be a part of ruining someone's life...everything they had worked for, their livelihood. That was more than enough to leave a sour taste in her mouth about Hugo Charles. Regardless of what happened in the past, she couldn't understand why people had to react in such passively violent ways toward each other, "If you don't want whatever that asset is, you might as well just sell it," she said it a bit bluntly, not meaning to sound offended that he would just give one of his little strays away to her like she was nothing. She understood why he would think that way-why anyone would. But she was still human. She still deserved some kind of respect.
"I need a time frame," she said simply. She wasn't going to let this ruin her sister's wedding. At this point, she knew it was time to start saving up because chances were, she would have to pay for all of it and Sabby had some expensive taste, "Regardless of what happens, I still have a wedding I have to plan, which you probably already know about," she had never noticed Alaric Sr. was the father of Hugo and Alaric Jr. She didn't know why she never noticed. She guessed it just never crossed her mind, "And I would prefer if you called me Isla," she looked him firmly in the eyes, "It's a sign of disrespect to address other's by their full names or surnames where I am from," she wasn't afraid of him. After everything she'd seen in her life, she was practically numb to it all, "But I'm sure you already know that, don't you, sir," she made sure her face looked carefully blank, not to show what she didn't need to. She didn't want to seem arrogant but she did was to seem bold. She wouldn't be walked all over-not without her at least nipping at the heels.
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Post by verdoux on Dec 7, 2011 17:24:00 GMT -5
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words // 885 // outfit // clicky // tagged // isla boy with a coin,
T H E N M A K I N G A W I S H , A N D T O S S E D I N T H E S E A
Isla and Kate had no similar attributes that Hugo could see and he could see all of what Isla was quite clearly. She was tragically beautiful; it may have been what lured Hugo from the start. She had been a woman of grace and hid her many illnesses with poised grace and a calm face that no one could see how badly she hurt internally. Her blonde hair was flawless; each strand lay perfectly aligned next to its neighbor and carried the light with a divine glow. Her tanned skin from hours in the sunlight was smooth, soft to the touch. She had a natural ambience of a woman who demanded and deserved undivided attention – he gave it to her from the start. When he met her, that fateful night in the grocery store while he shopped with his mother, he was in awe. He found an excuse to talk to her and although dorky, she giggled, easily amused by his attempt. They discussed tomatoes, briefly – he told her how you could tell it was a good tomato through light and gentle squeezes and rotating it. He didn’t know what to talk about, but he knew he wanted to talk to her. She giggled, nodding, saying that “I think most everyone who care about their tomato quality would say the same.” Before setting her tomato she had been feeling in her hand before reaching out to take the one from his hand. Replacing the tomato with her hand, they had a formal shake, albeit awkward and it was the start of their one and one fifth long decade relationship. There was no woman that would take place of his wife; they were together forever, by the sea.
The woman before him had a strong personality; he could hear it in the way she spoke. He read it in her history – the middle child of three girls and raised her two siblings like they were her own – it was admirable. He couldn’t fathom her logic for being a call girl – was it amusing to play submissive piece of arm candy? Perhaps she was into role-playing? It wasn’t really his business to ponder her bedside manners. He was just morbidly curious and bothered how she would take up such a job. Perhaps it was true to assume women in younger generations were money driven. That was wrong to assume, that she was greedy, when he could clearly read that her chosen professions were paid well and she was raising and supporting her sisters, putting them first. Well now, this job would force her to put herself first as it was for her own security. He leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers, rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, brought his hands near his mouth and listened to her. So she didn’t want a piece of the business, it was really just for the cash? He was offering her something that would keep benefiting her for the rest of her life here in this silly little town, but if she chose not take it, he would gladly keep it underneath his wings.
He blinked when she said that she had a wedding to plan, nearly forgetting it was for the union of her older sister and one of the many bastard children his father produced. All of this money would be thrown into a marriage that would not work nor last nor be financially profitable after Hugo demolished every single ounce of wealth his so-called father had. At this point, he should just offer to cover the wedding for her. It was a brilliant idea, so he adjusted himself in his seat, unlacing his fingers and gripping the chair while sliding forward. He smirked, a scheming smirk, a smirk you could tell you inserted your foot into mouth when that smirk appeared on lips like Hugo’s. A man of power, Hugo essentially could pay for this woman’s life ten times over if he had to – she had to do this. If she tried walking out, well, that would end very negatively in her favor. She was talking about disrespect, but she didn’t deserve respect from him until she did her job as he was going to throw out compliments and praise like it was butter on bread. If she wanted respect from a man of power such as himself, then she needed to buck up, commit to the job, and then she could eat praise and respect kibble from her doggy bowl.
“You start in three hours, Isla. The time frame depends on how efficiently you can pull information. In the meantime, I will hand your sister and you a wedding planner to help you ease the burden. Simple enough, it’s not questionable to have a wedding planner be involved.” He smirked, taking out a small notepad from his suit chest pocket and scribbling down “wedding planner – Isla – asap” on it before flipping it back in, clicking the pen and putting it away. “Three weeks will be needed for you to do the actual jobs your employer requests of you. Once you’re in, we will re-meet and I will assess how extensive your digging needs to be. It could be blatantly obvious what his weakness is or it could be difficult. Any other concerns?”
notes // He's deliciously arrogant and condescending. |
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Post by steph5 on Dec 7, 2011 17:53:02 GMT -5
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As he said he would give her and her sister a wedding planner, she was more than just tempted to decline the offer. She wanted to do this. It was her older sister's wedding...She'd only get one shot to do it and she didn't want a wedding planner over running it. That and the truth was, when it came to her family, Isla was used to being in control of things. She was used to taking care of them and noone else. It was hard enough knowing Sabine would be leaving the nest to be with Alaric who would eventually take care of her. Sometimes, Isla felt much older than she really was but her profession reminded her she was much too young. Yes, they were questionable, but she never graduated from highschool in the United States, never went to college. With today's economy, she couldn't find a job. She didn't want a desk job. She wanted to be moving. She wanted to do things with her hands be able to communicate with people. It wasn't about the money. It was about the networking and the experience. She didn't expect to be a call girl or stripper forever but she knew that soon enough, knowing all these higher up clients and such would pay off for her future. She'd be able to start her own business, maybe baking since she loved to do so, and be able to make her own ours and such. True, she had her own business now, but it wouldn't compare to doing something she loved. She didn't love this job. She loathed it.
But she wouldn't let her clients know that. Sometimes you had to give a little to get a little. Sometimes you had to suffer at first before reaping the benefits.
She was about to tell him she didn't need a wedding planner but decided against it. She thought more about the situation and exactly how much time it would take to bring down an entire empire. It wouldn't happen within a month, at least she guessed it wouldn't. It would take time but she was very good at getting information out of people when she wanted to but only if she really wanted to. She normally didn't care much about people's past-because they couldn't care less about her troublesome own, "I understand how the wedding may seem...a bit unorthodox in your eyes," she didn't give him any room or time to rebuff another comment about the wedding. She was iffy about it herself and the slight doubt was in her eyes as to whether they should even get married or not. She knew Sabine didn't love him, but she couldn't stop them. It was their decision, "but I would prefer if they stayed out of it as much as possible. She isn't marrying him for the money," she wanted to make it clear as she stood and looked directly at him, "and if my family ends up suffering because of this, though I know you don't find me to be any kind of threat now," she held her slender hand out to him to confirm their dealings through a handshake-as was customary, "faites-moi confiance quand je dis que vous allez le regretter." and after shaking his hand, she stepped around him, "Revoir, monsieur," she looked over her thin shoulder at him as a butler seemed to magically appear and open the door for her, "Until next time," and then she was escorted out of the suite and she made ehr way out of the building without a second thought.
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