Page 77 of Their Offering

Flustered, she practically ran from my office. I felt a little remorse, but it dissipated quickly when I imagined what Lillian was doing right now. Was she eating? Was she watching TV? Sitting on the balcony?

It drove me crazy not knowing what she was doing at all times, and it was hard not to text my brothers for updates. They were already on my ass about not giving her a chance, saying that I was too hard on her, not giving credit where credit was due.

Lillian was strong, I could admit that, but she was strong enough for me. My mother had been one of the most fearless women I’d ever known, and my father still broke her.

What they didn’t understand was that it was harder tonotwant Lillian than it was to want her. It was a fucking battle to deny myself the only woman I wanted. The worst part was, the longer I kept this up, the more she invaded my thoughts and dreams.

She was everywhere, even when she wasn’t there.

Sometimes, I’d think about her surprising me at work. She’d walk in with a coat on, then drop it, revealing her bare body. I’d fuck her against the office windows, making her scream my name.

I nearly jumped when my desk phone rang, the sound piercing the quiet room.

“What,” I answered harshly.

“Sir, you have someone here to see you. He said he will only speak with you.”

“Who is it?”

“A citizen.” I heard talking in the background. “A business owner, sir.”

I rolled my eyes. Probably another rich asshat wanting something from the crown. He probably wanted a tax break, but my father had always been fair about taxes. The more you make, the more you pay.

“Send him up,” I muttered.

“Yes, sir.” The phone clicked.

I sat back in my chair, not bothering to pick up any more requests––I hated being interrupted in the middle of them. I’d get this meeting over with, then I’d finish the requests and head home.

A knock sounded at my door minutes later. “Enter,” I shouted across the room.

The door opened slowly, and a timid man walked through the barely cracked door and headed my way slowly, after carefully closing it behind him.

I felt my eyebrow raise. He wasn’t one of the typical businessmen I usually saw. They were typically dressed to the nines in fancy tailored suits. They wanted to ooze money, as if I’d respect them more. If anything, it did the opposite.

I observed the man as he walked to my desk and sat in front of it. He kept looking around like he was nervous, squirming as if he was uncomfortable. He was, without a doubt, out of his element here. He fiddled with his hands in his lap, remaining silent.

“I don’t have all day,” I told him, not caring if I sounded rude. I had a reputation to uphold, and though I didn’t take it as far as my father, I stayed discourteous. My father would raise hell every time he found me too soft. So, I compromised, so our people had a lesser evil to approach.

His gulp was audible as he licked his lips and rose his head to meet my eyes. After a deep, shaky breath, he opened his mouth. “I n-need a fav-favor.”

“We don’t do favors.”

He nodded. “It’s a r-request, s-sir. I apologize f-for not be-being clear.”

I rolled my eyes. The man was a nervous wreck, and my attitude was making it worse, I was sure. “Carry on,” I said, a little softer this time.

He paused for another deep breath. “T-two weeks ago, your f-father walked in-into my shop and rans-sacked the entire place. H-he broke everything. We had to re-build most of the bui-building. I ha-have no money to restock m-my shop. I can-can’t afford supplies to make more of my gl-glass objects.”

After he didn’t speak for half a minute, I brought my hand to my chin, rubbing it in thought. “And? Why is that my problem? This doesn’t sound like a request. It sounds more like a complaint.” I raised my eyebrow at him.

“N-no, sir,” he said quickly. “Please fo-forgive me. I am n-not complaining. I d-do have a re-request.”

“So, what is it?”

“I n-need money to b-buy supplies for my sh-shop. So that I-I can start selling ag-again.”

“Why would the crown give you money? Just because my father ransacked your shop? He does that all the time. You must have pissed him off.” I shrugged, turning my attention to the papers on my desk, ready to dismiss him.

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