Page 6 of Ensnared
“Come,” he commanded.
As Colson led me further into the room, I took in the three distinct areas. To my right, a sitting area with a cognac-colored leather couch and matching armchairs beckoned invitingly. I imagined important deals being struck in that cozy nook, casual conversations that would shape the fate of companies and careers.
My gaze swept to the left, where a massive conference table dominated the space. Twelve high-backed chairs surrounded it, each one probably worth more than my entire wardrobe. I couldalmost hear the echo of heated discussions and billion-dollar decisions that must have taken place there.
But it was Colson's desk that truly captured my attention. Oversized and imposing, it stood as a symbol of his authority. Behind it, three large monitors silently flashed financial news, a constant reminder of the world Colson controlled.
As I stood there, trying not to gape, I couldn't help but feel out of place. My simple dress and unassuming presence seemed at odds with the understated luxury that surrounded me. Every detail, from the plush carpet underfoot to the carefully chosen art on the walls, spoke of a world I had only ever glimpsed from afar.
Colson's voice broke through my awe-struck reverie. "Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. As I moved to sit down, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was stepping into a lion's den, beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Mr. Ashworth..." I began, but he cut me off with a raised hand.
"Please, grant me the courtesy to start this conversation," he said, his voice smooth yet commanding.
I clasped my hands tightly in my lap, willing them not to shake. "Forgive me," I murmured.
Colson settled into his chair, his fingers trailing down his silk tie in a gesture that seemed almost predatory. "You received the invitation?"
I sucked in a breath, my heart racing. "I did, but I don't understand."
His eyes darkened, pinning me in place. "What don't you understand?"
"Why me?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
A smile played on his lips, one I'd rarely seen and found unsettling. "Why not you? Don't you think you're worthy to be my wife?"
His question left me momentarily speechless. When I found my voice, it was barely above a whisper. "I don't think in terms of worthiness. I'm not in your social circle, my parents work for you, and I'm half your age."
He leaned forward, his grin growing wickedly. "Your youth is an asset. You're not jaded by past experiences. You're someone I can mold into my equal."
I stifled a laugh, the bitter taste of reality on my tongue. If I was chosen, I would never be his equal. Colson Ashworth would always hold power over me... over everyone. I squirmed in my seat as he ran two fingers over his sharp jaw, his gaze never leaving mine.
"Why have you asked me here?" I managed to ask, desperate to break the tension.
He ignored my question, his voice taking on an almost nostalgic tone. "I like your directness. You always were direct, even as a young child."
My skin prickled. The creepiness of that statement. This man knew me when I was a baby and now, I was in consideration to be his wife.
Confusion washed over me. "Sir?"
"Do you have a dress for the event?" he asked abruptly.
"I do not. I was planning to shop with my mother this evening."
Without warning, he removed his cell from the inner pocket of his jacket and began typing. "Your dress size?"
I was taken aback, my hand flying to my chest. "Excuse me?"
"Dress size," he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. "I'll be sending my stylist, Evelina Kournova, to your home this evening. She'll bring several dresses. And I'll need your shoe size also."
I frowned, a sense of violation creeping over me. "That's not necessary."
He held up his hand, cutting off my protest. "Please, Miss Shaw, your dress and shoe size," he demanded.
"Two and seven," I blurted, feeling cornered.
As Colson's long, elegant fingers stroked over his phone screen, I fought the urge to flee. This was too much, too fast, too invasive.
