The Fallen Salesgirl - Chapter 13: Chapter 13
You are reading The Fallen Salesgirl, Chapter 13: Chapter 13. Read more chapters of The Fallen Salesgirl.
The sharp tang of whiskey clung to him, but his gaze remained focused—not completely gone yet.
After months without a man's touch, electricity shot through my veins.
When Nathan ripped through my cheap dress, my body betrayed me with violent tremors.
Even half-drunk, his hands moved with unexpected tenderness—until the final moment when panic took over.
"Stop..." I pressed my palms against his stomach. "I can't risk getting pregnant."
Nathan's lips twisted in displeasure.
He pushed up and loomed over me, his heat radiating against my skin.
The sour bite of alcohol hit my nose.
I opened without protest, taking every last drop like a good girl.
Only when he was satisfied—only after his fingers unclenched from my hair—did he let me go.
Nathan stayed at the villa for days. Mornings were for business—property inspections, market analyses, counting shoppers like pennies. But nights? Nights belonged to me.
A week later, Leonard bounced into the room, slapping a fat envelope on the table.
"Vivian, you're a godsend!" His grin stretched ear to ear. "Twenty grand—my personal thank you. The company bonus hits next month, capped at fifty, but damn, you've earned it."
This time, I didn't pretend to refuse.
Seventy-three thousand dollars. In two weeks.
My parents broke their backs for years to save three.
The bills crumpled in my shaking hands as sobs tore from my throat.
Leonard clucked his tongue and offered tissues.
"Policy's policy on bonuses," he said, softer now. "But how about Sales Supervisor to sweeten the deal?"
I dabbed my cheeks and smiled.
Overnight, I became their boss.
The office whispers about Richard died quick deaths—nobody risks sneers when promotions are on the line. Now? Now they practically curtsied in the hallway.
I'd swallowed worse than pride to get here. By New Year's Eve, my bank account bulged with $170K.
Back home, regret was eating my family alive.
Turns out my baby brother flunked the job market—ended up delivering packages in some nowhere town for peanuts. No house, no dowry, no fiancée. Mom's ulcers were probably breeding ulcers.
She sent cousins to beg me home like some prodigal daughter.
I played the busy executive card every time.
Truth? After landing Regional Supervisor, my hardest task was delegating to my team of hungry, pretty salespeople—most smart enough to stay in line.
But there's always one.
Like today, when Monica screwed up her first client.
After months without a man's touch, electricity shot through my veins.
When Nathan ripped through my cheap dress, my body betrayed me with violent tremors.
Even half-drunk, his hands moved with unexpected tenderness—until the final moment when panic took over.
"Stop..." I pressed my palms against his stomach. "I can't risk getting pregnant."
Nathan's lips twisted in displeasure.
He pushed up and loomed over me, his heat radiating against my skin.
The sour bite of alcohol hit my nose.
I opened without protest, taking every last drop like a good girl.
Only when he was satisfied—only after his fingers unclenched from my hair—did he let me go.
Nathan stayed at the villa for days. Mornings were for business—property inspections, market analyses, counting shoppers like pennies. But nights? Nights belonged to me.
A week later, Leonard bounced into the room, slapping a fat envelope on the table.
"Vivian, you're a godsend!" His grin stretched ear to ear. "Twenty grand—my personal thank you. The company bonus hits next month, capped at fifty, but damn, you've earned it."
This time, I didn't pretend to refuse.
Seventy-three thousand dollars. In two weeks.
My parents broke their backs for years to save three.
The bills crumpled in my shaking hands as sobs tore from my throat.
Leonard clucked his tongue and offered tissues.
"Policy's policy on bonuses," he said, softer now. "But how about Sales Supervisor to sweeten the deal?"
I dabbed my cheeks and smiled.
Overnight, I became their boss.
The office whispers about Richard died quick deaths—nobody risks sneers when promotions are on the line. Now? Now they practically curtsied in the hallway.
I'd swallowed worse than pride to get here. By New Year's Eve, my bank account bulged with $170K.
Back home, regret was eating my family alive.
Turns out my baby brother flunked the job market—ended up delivering packages in some nowhere town for peanuts. No house, no dowry, no fiancée. Mom's ulcers were probably breeding ulcers.
She sent cousins to beg me home like some prodigal daughter.
I played the busy executive card every time.
Truth? After landing Regional Supervisor, my hardest task was delegating to my team of hungry, pretty salespeople—most smart enough to stay in line.
But there's always one.
Like today, when Monica screwed up her first client.
End of The Fallen Salesgirl Chapter 13. Continue reading Chapter 14 or return to The Fallen Salesgirl book page.