Thread: Whatever comes up... (Silvamoon & Adam)

Richard Ashworth was sitting at his big oak desk in his spacious office at the second top floor of the Ashworth skyscraper, a tall modernistic construction in glass and steel. The fact that it was not the top floor had always bugged him, but that floor was reserved for his father, the legendary businessman and owner of Ashworth Ltd, Marcus Ashworth, and his aide Victoria. Not that the view of the cities skyline was better up there - it was already magnificent from Richards office, and he seldom bothered to admire it anyway. No, it was just that he disliked the thought of someone else being above him. He hated losing. Maybe it was because he didn't have any siblings, any real ones at least, and therefore never got to learn how to handle defeat. People would call him inconsiderate and smug, but he had found the ruthlessness his obsession with winning had given him to be quite an asset. Who knows, had he been less dedicated to coming out on top, maybe he would never have made the effort to acquire the photograph that he was holding in his hand right now, studying it with a pleased smile over his lips. Yes, he hated losing, and she had made him a looser. Therefore he hated her, it was as simple as that. Victoria had not only taken what was rightfully his, she had also humiliated him by showing to the world that not even his own father trusted him. Surely he had not been portionless, after all he had been given the position as CEO of the bank his father owned as some sort of compensation. I figured it would suit you, since all you care about is money. his father had told him in his usual disappointed voice, but it had not suited him. Being number two did not suit him at all, especially not when the gold medal had been snatched from him right in front of his eyes by some random charity case. Just thinking about her awakened the rage in him. He felt pearls of sweat forming on his forehead, and his breathing grew more heavy. Using the glass of the framed photo of his father that he kept on his desk as a mirror, he wiped the sweat away. He could not help to admire what he saw. The distinct jaw bone and the cold blue color of his self-confident eyes made him look like a natural leader. Despite his age, he did not need to dye his short, black hair, and regular work out, that he did more to impress on his colleges and business associates than because he actually liked it, kept his body in shape. And on top of it, if you payed as much for your suit as Richard did, it was hard to not look good. Only the blue silk tie he wore together with his black attire probably cost more than what ordinary people made in a week. Calm down, Richard. he said to himself. Soon you will no longer be the looser and she no longer the winner. The photograph in his hand would make sure of that. He really hadn't believed that the private detective would come up with something like this, all he had expected was some minor embarrassment that would give him a slight edge in the constant competition between the two of them. After all, she was as good as perfect, or at least so everyone seemed to think. They never stopped talking about her sharp intellect, her astonishing looks and her awe-inspiring with. But they had all misjudged her, and now he had the proof. It was time for him to collect his price, he had waited long enough. It had taken a lot of planning, but all that remained to be done now was to pull the string and watch the trap close around her. Not only her position, but also her very person, would be his. He had no intention of letting her fall be easy. Why would he, when he could make her suffer like she had made him suffer? This was not only about winning, this was about taking revenge. He picked up his telephone, and called her up. Victoria, my dear, would you come down to my office? he asked, doing his best to sound casual even though he wanted to explode in triumph. I have some rather urgent matters I think will be of great interest to you. And bring some coffee for me, will you? Before she even had a chance to respond, he hang up. Formally he was in no position to order her to get to his office, or to bring coffee for that matter, but he thought it would be useful for her to get used to be treated like a member of the servant class from wish he originated. He put down the photograph on the desk and waited.