Sold to a Monster

Camilla

"Elvis, it's time for the Global Business Summit," I announced, trying to keep my voice soft and steady, but with the right pitch to communicate urgency.

We were running late.

I treaded carefully into Elvis’ office. His face was gloomy, and he most certainly exuded that aura of gloominess throughout the office; his entire office was depressing.

Elvis was going through it.

He was a shell of his former self. His eyes were now dull and lifeless. Dark circles hung beneath them. His chiseled jawline was softened by a beard that seemed to have grown unchecked. The lines around his eyes dug even deeper. His office wasn't left out – the curtains remained drawn, casting the room with darkness. The only sound was the faint click of the keyboard.

I approached the window, my heart aching for Elvis. I reached for the curtain cord, itching to bring some light into his office and his world. As I began to draw them open, Elvis groaned, his voice a little above a whisper.

"Camilla, please leave them closed," he mumbled, his words muffled by the darkness.

I hesitated, my hand pausing mid-air. I knew he was struggling, but I couldn't bear to see him wallow in self-pity. "I'm not going to let you mope in here," I replied firmly. "Some fresh air will do you good."

Elvis sighed, his shoulders slumping. He reluctantly allowed me to open the curtains, the sunlight flooding the room and dispelling the gloom.

“Elvis, come on! We're late,” I insisted.

Elvis' fingers froze on the keyboard.

"And what damned difference will attending the summit make, Camilla?" he barked, his eyes darting over the financial reports scattered on his desk. "Our market value is plummeting. We're on the brink of bankruptcy!"

I nearly flinched at the shout. I couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise. I'd always admired Elvis for his strategic thinking, and ability to remain calm even when stressed. This time, he was different. Elvis was neither strategic nor calm. He was in distress, and his despair was evident.

"I know, Elvis. But perhaps the summit could offer new opportunities or insights. Maybe we can network with other companies facing similar challenges."

His gaze hardened. "Pointless. And don't call me Elvis, Camilla. It's 'sir.'"

I nodded, feeling a twinge of disappointment. Elvis had previously preferred to be called by his first name, back when the firm was still very much prosperous, but it seemed that his softness and friendliness had dwindled over the course of the firm's bankruptcy episode. I had to admit that addressing him by his first name made it easier for me to ease into our working relationship since we were together most times. I'd grown accustomed to the informality of our working relationship. But in the face of such dire circumstances, it was clear that he needed to maintain a more formal working relationship.

"Sir,” I stressed, “perhaps we could use the summit as a platform to share our new product idea," I suggested, trying to maintain a hopeful tone. "I believe it has the potential to grow our industry."

Elvis scoffed. "An idea that isn't even patented yet? Investors will run the other way if they hear about it. It's literally on the headlines that we're failing. Why would anyone want to invest in a sinking ship?"

“A little optimism wouldn't hurt you, Elvis.” my mind whispered.

Our company was indeed in a dire situation, and a new, unproven idea wasn't guaranteed to attract investors. But I couldn't give up hope. "We could at least try, sir. It might be our last chance."

Elvis sighed, his frustration on the brink of explosion.

"Fine!” He surrendered, wobbling both his hands in the air. “But,  if this is a waste of time, I'm holding you personally responsible."

I nodded. It was a risky gamble, but it was worth a shot.

---

As the conference talk ended, Elvis turned to me. "Well, that was a disaster," he said, his voice diced with frustration. "I told you this was a waste of time."

I nodded, my stomach clenching.

I had tried my best, but it wasn't enough. Our company was sinking, and there seemed to be no way to save it.

"Elvis," I said, drawing out a chair in front of him, "I know you think we're failing, but we can't just sit here and do nothing."

He scoffed. "I'm not exactly doing nothing. I've been working day and night to find a solution."

"Shh!" I interrupted. "What I'm saying is, we need to get out there and find a firm we can partner with, one that can resuscitate us. Once we pitch our idea with an assurance that we'll have it patented..."

Elvis cut in. "Businesses don't bank on promises, Camilla. I'm one, and I work with facts."

"But what about our idea, Elvis? It's a game-changer. It's the future! If we can get a firm to invest in us, we can turn things around."

Elvis's face softened slightly. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"Absolutely," I replied, my voice filled with conviction. "I've done my research. I know that this idea has the potential to be huge."

"And what if it's not?" Elvis asked, his skepticism resurfacing. "What if we invest in this idea and it flops?"

"Then we'll have tried everything," I said. "At least we won't have any regrets. And besides, the worst that can happen is we stay where we are right now."

I leaned forward, my eyes capturing his. "Elvis, can you trust me on this one? I'm your assistant. Let me assist you."

Elvis sighed. "Whatever.”

I smiled. "Great! So let's get to work. We need to start compiling a list of potential investors."

As we began to discuss our plan, I held out my pen and began scribbling down names of potential investors.

I read them aloud to Elvis, who seemed distracted. His gaze wandered around the room, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Elvis, are you even listening?" I asked, snapping my fingers in front of his face.

He blinked, startled. "What? Oh, yeah. Sorry."

I continued reading the list. "So, what do you think? These are some of the biggest names in the industry."

“Mario Evans, this one's a promising investor. I heard he funded three start-ups, only a few weeks ago.”

I retrieved my gaze from the sheet I was holding, back to Elvis.

Just as I had suspected, he wasn't paying attention. He wasn't even looking in my direction. He was looking elsewhere, at the people shuffling through the entrance.

He paused, his eyes narrowing.

Elvis shrugged. "They're all good options."

"Isn't that… Bloody hell! Isn't that Stefano Maddens? What is that bull head doing here?"

He rose from his sitting, his teeth gritting, his jaw hardening, his knuckles whitening. Elvis wasn't pleased with the sight. He had never been pleased with the sight and utterance of that one name.

His nemesis, Stephano Maddens.

My heart skipped a beat. I swallowed hard, my pen and paper dropping to the floor. The name Stefano Maddens sent a chill down my spine. He was the one who had made my life a living hell in high school.

“That monster!” my mind hissed.

Indeed, he was a monster, a beautiful monster.

I glanced at Elvis, my eyes wide with shock. He was staring at the man in question, a dark blonde-haired figure standing across the room. His piercing blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and the slutty forbidden black shirt he was wearing were unmistakable. He was a man who seemed to make my knees wobble in weakness.

As he walked past, a murmur raved through the crowd. Women couldn't help but swoon over him. It was almost as if he had a hypnotic effect on them.

“Just wait till those fools hear the horrible things he’s done. Then, they'll stop swooning,” my mind said, tightly.

I couldn't believe it. Stefano Maddens, the man who had caused so much havoc amongst the ladies, was here.

My mind raced as I tried to remember the details of our encounter in high school. He had been the popular jock, always surrounded by a group of adoring fans. I had been a fat, shy, quiet girl, easily intimidated by his bullying. He had made my life a living hell, taunting me and spreading rumors about me.

Now, here he was, a successful businessman, once again, surrounded by women. How could he have changed so much while I was still struggling to overcome the trauma of his horrible treatment?

I couldn't help but notice how different he looked. No doubt, he had grown into a handsome man, but held the same commanding outlook. His hair was styled in a sleek, modern cut, his shoulders still solidly immaculate.

I couldn't believe that this was the same person who had tormented me in high school. It was almost as if he were a completely different person. But deep down, I knew that the cruelty he had shown me was a part of him, something that could never be erased.

He sifted through the crowd, making his way forward.

“He’s heading here.” my mind alerted.

“No, he isn't.” I muttered.

He strolled even further, exchanging pleasantries with peers.

Elvis cleared his throat, breaking through my thoughts. Just then, Stephano’s head whipped in his direction. I could sense a masculinity stand-off, between the two.

“Camilla, we have to move. The monster’s heading in our direction!”

My heart pounded in my chest as I watched Stefano Maddens, my high school tormentor, approach Elvis. I couldn't believe he was here, at this very conference. I had dreaded ever seeing him again, since high school.

Elvis, too, seemed to have spotted Stefano. His face was flushed with anger, his fists clenched. "That bullhead," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "He's here to bask in our failure."

Stefano had always enjoyed seeing others suffer, especially those who had crossed him. And now, with our company on the brink of bankruptcy, he was sure to revel in our misfortune.

As Stefano turned in our direction, my eyes widened. Had he seen me? I couldn't tell. My heart raced as I ducked down, hoping to avoid his gaze. I held my breath, waiting for him to approach. I didn't know what he would do, but I knew it wouldn't be good. My mind raced, trying to come up with a plan. I couldn't let him see me. I couldn't let him know that I was here.

I glanced around, searching for a way to escape.

Goddess, please!

There was a door behind me, leading to a small hallway. I knew it was a long shot, but it was my only chance.

Within a jiff, I stood up and darted toward the door. I heard Elvis call out my name, but I didn't stop. I pushed through the door and slammed it behind me.

I leaned against the wall, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Stephano Maddens, you devil!” my mind hissed.