Buying The Virgin Part 1-3 novel Chapter 69

Haswell passes me another coffee. “Charlotte, I’m sorry that you have had such an uncomfortable morning. My only concern in…. interrogating you… for so long, was that we are discussing the character of a man that I am about to sign up as a director of my company. Once I was satisfied that your relationship with James is truly consensual, I ceased to be concerned about that aspect of the matter.”

I shift uneasily, nodding, but staring at the floor.

He sits back, sipping his coffee, before placing the cup and saucer carefully down on the table. “Let me reassure you. Based on what I now know, your ‘confession’ will have no repercussions for either yourself or James here, for our working relationship.”

I take a deep breath. “Thank you.” My voice is small.

“I can see you are still uncomfortable. Perhaps as to the nature of your relationship with James.… your Master?”

My eyes flash up to meet his, but he is smiling.

“Perhaps it would make you feel easier to know that I have a similar relationship with my wife?”

I blink. “Really?”

“Really. As I say, arrangements between beautiful women and powerful men are not that uncommon. And, although I barely know you, it is clear to me already, that you face your problems and you deal with them. I understand how hard you must have found it, to come to me today. And very few women would have had the nerve to take your um, chosen route, to raising your college funds. Regardless of what you might fear, I think well of you Charlotte.”

Then he waves us both out. “I have some phone calls to make.”

*****

Francis buzzes me. “Charlotte, could you come to the office, please. Mr Haswell wants to see you.”

I arrive to find Haswell, my Master and Ned Jansen seated around a table. Jansen looks smug. My Master’s expression is masked, Haswell’s bland.

“And here’s our gutter rat,” smirks Jansen.

“Better gutter rat than sewer rat,” I snap back.

“Charlotte, sit down,” says Haswell, indicating a seat next to my Master.

I move to the seat, but as I squeeze by Jansen, his hand slides up to grope my ass.

I whirl, hand raised, but my wrist is seized by my Master.

“Charlotte, sit.”

I hesitate, resisting, fighting him.

“This is not a request. Sit,” he says, pointing at the chair.

I submit to my Master, seating myself, but poised for trouble.

“So, Mr Jansen,” starts Haswell, “What is the nature of your complaint?”

“I’m being asked to work with people unfit to be in their posts,” says Jansen.

“Ms Conners and Mr Alexanders?”

“Yes.”

“By what reason?”

“You’ve seen the brochure and the film. You know what reason.”

“Ah yes, the brochure and the film, both sent to me in a plain, unmarked brown envelope. The only reason I know who sent them was that Ms Conners herself alerted me to it, and of course, you have now confirmed it.”

Jensen says nothing, but his face colours up.