PATRIARCHY

prologue

alden

The cross catches my eye.

I'm still not used to having it on my hand. The black thin lines are surrounded by the reddened skin, and it stings faintly when it brushes up against the harsh fabric of my black trousers. I got it tattooed just yesterday, and I like how it looks. And what it represents.

I adjust the cufflink on the right sleeve of my jacket, after taking a look at myself in the mirror just beside the lobby desk. I slick my brown hair back, finding my own green eyes in the reflection.

This interview is important, It's for the most sought-after position among my peers. Only half of the people that applied got an interview, and I'm one of them. I rarely get nervous, but this is a job that could launch me into the career I've always wanted.

"Alright Sir, the interview is on the tenth floor, the elevator is just to your right," the woman behind the desk explains, avoiding eye-contact.

She wears a dark green blazer, with a grey turtleneck sweater underneath, covering her tan skin at the start of her wrist to the height of her slender neck. I check her right wrist, which has initials branded in black ink.

She's claimed.

She bows her head down slightly when talking, pointing to the right with a flat palm. I nod my head at her, noticing how her ponytail is placed low on her head, like all of the other receptionists, placed next to each other across the lengthy desk. I can hardly tell them apart.

My black dress shoes make little noise as I take a few steps towards and into the elevator as the doors slide open. The female inside looks up at me first, but then she quickly takes a step back, bobbing her head down and directing her eyes at the floor. She moves to the corner of the elevator as I place myself at the center, my feet covering most of the cross embroidered into the carpet-floor. I look up at the clock just above the doors, and I see that I'm five minutes early. Good.

When the doors slide open to the tenth floor, I take slow steps into the hallway. There's a long corridor to the right, glass doors blurred and numbered on either side. According to the email I received previously today, the interview is in room "100".

I start walking, moving past the numerous rooms where the men sit behind their desks, some of the secretaries pouring them coffee in their plain, black pencil skirts. I imagine that it's nice sitting behind one of those desks, even though my ambitions reach much farther than just a desk and a secretary working for me. I want everyone working for me.

I arrive at the door numbered with "100". From what I can see through the foggy glass, the room is much larger than the others. Just as I reach for the handle of the glass door, I see a silhouette form behind it.

"I'll be home at ten, have your friend walk you home." I hear a deep, resonating voice as the handle twists. I think that's him. Harvey Sayle, the mayor.

"Yes Father," I hear another voice just from the other side of the door, making me lean forward. Undoubtedly a female's voice. I see a faint tone of red beaming through the glass, and I take a step back as the door opens.

When I first lay eyes on her, my sight blurs for a second. I try to focus on the golden-brown eyes that stare back at me, but they are taken from me when she looks to the floor, as she should.

"Hello," I speak, allowing her to look up at me again. Everything else but the color of her eyes disappear for a second.

"Hello," she bows her head down, putting her flat palm in front of her, polished red fingernails facing the ground. She greets me perfectly; She must pay attention in her classes.

I surround her hand with mine, one underneath and one over it. Her small body is wrapped by a white dress, reaching over her knees, and right over her shoulders. It's embroidered with a flower pattern, similar to the pink ones that grow outside my house.

I get a good look at her, her pointed nose covered with freckles, her lips full and defined. Her hair touches her high cheekbones, the fierce red, wavy curls capturing my gaze as if it was fire. It looks messy and perfectly sculpted, all at the same time.

I let go of her hand, and her eyes meet mine once again. I take another second to gaze intently at her round eyes, admiring them.

"Alden Myles, is it? Here for the job interview?" I'm reminded that there is someone else in the room, and I force myself to look away from her. Sayle walks up to us, reaching his hand for mine to shake. His hand is quite large, along with the rest of him. He's taller than me, which is something I don't see every day. He raises his chin, his bulky jaw pointing at me. Thin, grey hair slicks back at the top of his head.

"No, Sir. I'm not here for the interview. I'm here for the job," I say sternly as I take his hand, looking right into his eyes. His eyebrow raises, the corners of his mouth curving downwards like he's impressed.

He steps to the side, pointing with a flat palm to his desk with a chair opposite it. I nod at him.

"Amelia, off you go," he says to the girl. I follow Sayle to his desk, but I turn around to catch a final glimpse of the girl. Amelia.

A pulse-heightening, scorching hot feeling appears in my chest, spreading throughout the rest of my body as I look at her eyes, her face, her body. And I immediately recognize it. It's rare... but it is overpowering.

As she walks out of the room, her eyes lock with mine a final time before the door closes shut. By her wavering eyes, her deep breaths and her weak hands, she seemed to be affected by me, which is to be expected.
I turn to the mayor in my seat, the sight of her eyes still lingering in my mind.

author's note

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed the prologue to my new story, called "Patriarchy". This story will contain sexual scenes and violence. Read at your own discretion! :)
Thank you for giving this story a shot, I am very excited about it!
See you in the next chapter!