Jessica’s POV
“What the hell dude, how dare you!…” The guy who was holding me yelled.
But then he froze the moment he saw who pulled me away.
“Master Xavier,” The guy said to him in a trembling voice.
“Is that how you treat a young lady?” Xavier asked him in an angry tone.
The guy looked scared.
“No Sir, that’s not how I behave,” he said and then pointed towards Gabriel.
Gabriel also looked scared.
“He brought her to me, saying she was a gift so I could give him some information,” He said.
Hearing those words shattered me.
Was that why the CEO asked me to go with Gabriel?
I can’t believe this.
I turned towards Xavier.
He looked like he wanted to tear the guy in front of him apart.
“Mike, can you help me to take care of him,” Xavier said in a calm tone.
But he was still furious.
I could see it in his eyes and in the way he ached his lips when he said those words.
“With pleasure,” The person who I presumed was Mike said as he cracked his knuckles.
He grabbed the guy by the collar and pulled him away.
“Please Sir, I promise never to do it again. Please don’t let them take me… Please, Master Xavier!” The guy yelled as he was being dragged to the back.
“What are they going to do to him?” I asked Xavier.
But he didn’t say anything.
He turned to the other guys in the VIP section.
“Are you all still here?” He asked with a cold look in his eyes.
The moment those words left his mouth completely they all ran away like rats looking for shelter away from their prey.
I turned to look at Xavier.
He wasn’t the same as the man I met this morning.
The nice man who offered me water and helped me out with my interview.
He was different.
Just then something came to my mind.
I turned to look around in search of Gabriel, but he was nowhere to be found.
“What are you looking for?” Xavier asked me.
I was about to answer when he interrupted me.
“Forget about it, just follow me,” He said with so much authority that I couldn’t resist.
And for some reason, I felt hurt.
I followed him out of the bar and into his car.
The drive back to the mansion was both silent and awkward.
When we arrived at the mansion, he walked out of the car, ignoring the greeting from the butler and the other servers in the house, and headed straight inside.
No one wanted to stop him either.
He was like a prowling tiger, and no one wanted to be his prey.
I walked into the house too.
He was in the living room, holding onto a bottle of Whiskey and a glass in his hand.
He was still upset, and for some reason, I was too.
I was about to head for my room when he finally spoke up.
“You’re not going to explain yourself?” He asked.
I got confused.
“Explain me? how?” I asked him.
“You are not going to tell me why you are dressed as a slot? Or why you were at the bar with those scumbags?” He said.
I snickered.
I knew I owed him that much, but he should have at least asked.
From the way he said those words, it was like he already knew the answer he was waiting for.
I don’t think he’ll believe me if I say otherwise.
I turned around again to leave, but then he laughed.
“You should have at least told me I was getting married to a slot,” He said to me.
It was like I was stabbed in the heart with a piece of glass.
“You should have told me that was your side gig so that I would have bothered…”
Before he could complete those words, I started sobbing, and he heard me and stopped talking.
I hate it.
The fact that I was crying because of his words when I did nothing wrong.
I raised my head to him and wiped my tears.
“You can’t say that to me,” I said to him.
But he didn’t say anything else.
“You can not judge just because we have been together for just a few days,” I said to him.
He closed the bottle and kept it on the table.
“You don’t know what I have been through to come to this point…”
“And you think sleeping with men would get you a lot more…”
Before he could complete the words I slapped him on the face.
I covered my mouth after I realized what I did, but then I couldn’t care less.
He deserved it.
On the other hand, he looked shocked.
“You think I wanted to dress this way? Do you think I wanted that idiot to put his hand? If I did then why was I trying so hard to push him away?” I asked him.
He was speechless.
“Unlike you, I wasn’t born with a golden spoon. I don’t have a wealthy grandfather or a company to inherit!” I yelled out to him.
I wanted him to say something, but he didn’t say anything.
Which hurt the most.
“All my life people have done nothing more than to look down on me. My ex, my boss,” I said and snickered. “You know, I thought when I told them about my interview with you they would applaud me, finally let me sign a contract with them, but instead I was ordered to dress up as a slot and go out for a stupid undercover job,” I said in anger.
He was still silent.
He just stared at me with pity in his eyes.
That was what I hated the most.
People are a pity party for me.
I couldn’t take it.
I turned to walk away, but something came to my mind.
Turning back I said to him.
“I’m not a slot. They have been, and never will be.”