Heiress in Distress

•Chapter 15•

"Why not ?" I squeak, mortified.

He doesn't answer; instead, he walks over to the corner of his office where a tall file cabinet stands. Opening the lowest drawer, he fingers through folders before settling for one and pulling it out.
He walks back to his desk, while ruffling through the folder, before reaching his destined page.
When he drops it on his desk in front of me, he shoves one hand into his pocket, and rests the other on the open file, diverting my attention.

"You've signed the contract for six months, here-" He says, pointing at my very clear signature on the middle of the paper.

"And you signed the commitment throughout those six months" He continues, pointing at my signature at the bottom of the paper.

'The commitment' field serves as a clasp to tie the signers to the contract; in other words, my fate is at their mercy for the next six months.
I'm not allowed to withdraw, nor sign a contract with a different platform.

I distinctly recall the mental comment I made on that;
'It's not like I have anything else to do, I could sign it for a whole year if I could'

What I wouldn't do to go back in time and slap my greedy self across the face.
I spot Elias, through my peripheral vision, checking his wristwatch.

"This your first time in Lyon ?" He asks, an emotion strangely similar to excitement dancing in his eyes. Nodding, I pretend to check the time on my phone to distract myself from the discomforting remembrance that I'm in the presence of my boss.
It's bad enough having given him an attitude despite his guiltlessness; though, having him as my boss outweighs all other reasons for mortification.

Strained by the tension in the air, I continue to tap on my phone, opening my camera roll and scrolling through pictures of Élise, a habit that works wonders, distraction-wise.
Yet, I'm well aware of Elias picking his phone, putting a call through and waiting for the other person to pick up.

"Yeah, cancel all my meetings and clear my schedule for the day" He tells, whom I suspect is, his secretary, in rapid German -weirdly.
I wonder if he knows I understand what he's saying. I shake my head, hoping to dislodge the inquisitiveness at anything Elias-related, fed up to the back teeth with all the conclusion jumping.

He slaps the phone's handset back on its cradle, and I continue to pretend I'm not paying attention.
Picking up his suit jacket from the back of one of the couches in his office,

"Let's go" He calls over his shoulder, headed for the door. He opens it, waiting for me to take the first step into the hallway, but I don't move, staying put next to his desk.

When I tell him the limousine leaves in 30 minutes and that I haven't even finished my paperwork, he crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the doorjamb with a residual smile.

"It's taken care of; my secretary will fax the papers to you so you can sign them" He explains.

"My ride-"

"It's okay, Mira. I'll make sure you get back home in time"
That's all it takes to have my feet moving towards the door, the screaming in my mind about the limo leaving shortly turns to an echo.

An echo I find myself happily ignoring when I spot Elias' dimple sinking in as he smiles at my acquiescence.

Elias parked his car a short work South from where we're currently headed.
The 15 minute drive went by smoothly, with Elias making and receiving calls -which I've conscientiously tuned out in respect for his privacy- and me watching the heavenly Lyon countryside go by.
We continue to walk, in silence, as I struggle to match his long strides in spite of his altruistic attempt to walk slower. My legs are not the apt height, apparently.