The Fallen Salesgirl - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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My breath caught in my throat. "What the hell—what is this?"
Vivian Lowell's face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He made me shave it all off—even used some kind of hair-growth blocker. That disgusting old creep!"
I couldn't even form words.
She swiped at her tears, voice trembling. "What am I supposed to tell my boyfriend? How do I explain this?"
I exhaled heavily. "Look... if you have to say something, just tell him you did it for hygiene. Summer heat, whatever."
Before I could say more, Olivia Sherwood slammed into the break room like a hurricane.
The sales manager's face was pure fury. "Vivian, what the hell did you do? Richard Winston already put down thirty grand! That deal was done! Now he's pissed, says you were disrespectful, and wants his deposit back!"
Vivian dissolved into loud, messy sobs.
"Enough!" Olivia barked. "It's Friday. This weekend, you get on your knees if you have to and fix this. Otherwise? You're on your own."
Vivian's voice cracked. "He—he wants me to be his... his on-call mistress. At night. Whenever he wants."
Olivia hesitated, then sighed. "Okay, yeah, that's... a lot. But for the sake of the sale, can't you just... tough it out? Once the contract's signed and the money clears, he can't force you to stay. You walk away then."
Her tone softened, almost pleading. "Just go smooth things over. The whole sales center's quarterly target is riding on this. If I were younger—hell, if I looked like you—I'd do it myself."
Vivian shook her head violently. "Olivia, no. That man is sick. I can't—"
I swallowed hard, then stood. "I'll go. Vivian and I worked the deal together. I'll talk to Richard."
I shrugged, forcing calm. "Besides, I don't have a boyfriend. Whatever happens... I'll handle it."
Olivia's expression flickered—something almost like guilt. "Fine. Just... be smart."
That evening, I dialed Richard's number.
The old man sounded surprised, then smug. He rattled off an address and hung up before I could respond.
I stood frozen in my shoebox apartment for a long moment. Then I changed.
Before leaving, a thought hit me—why wait for that bastard to force me? I'd take control.
I grabbed a razor and took care of everything myself. Slipped into my heels.
To reel him in, I chose a sheer chiffon dress, fitted at the waist to highlight every curve.
Just in case, I stopped at the pharmacy downstairs. Plan B. Pocketed the box like a grim insurance policy.
At Richard's door, I steadied my breath and knocked.
It swung open instantly. His eyes raked over me, dark with hunger.
That old man's gaze gleamed. Hook, line, and sinker.
I sighed inside—tonight was going to be long.
Richard pretended indifference. "You came alone? Where's Vivian?"
I painted on a smile. "She's not feeling well. I'm here to apologize for her."
"Apologize?" His lips curled. "Then let's see how convincing you can be."
Vivian Lowell's face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He made me shave it all off—even used some kind of hair-growth blocker. That disgusting old creep!"
I couldn't even form words.
She swiped at her tears, voice trembling. "What am I supposed to tell my boyfriend? How do I explain this?"
I exhaled heavily. "Look... if you have to say something, just tell him you did it for hygiene. Summer heat, whatever."
Before I could say more, Olivia Sherwood slammed into the break room like a hurricane.
The sales manager's face was pure fury. "Vivian, what the hell did you do? Richard Winston already put down thirty grand! That deal was done! Now he's pissed, says you were disrespectful, and wants his deposit back!"
Vivian dissolved into loud, messy sobs.
"Enough!" Olivia barked. "It's Friday. This weekend, you get on your knees if you have to and fix this. Otherwise? You're on your own."
Vivian's voice cracked. "He—he wants me to be his... his on-call mistress. At night. Whenever he wants."
Olivia hesitated, then sighed. "Okay, yeah, that's... a lot. But for the sake of the sale, can't you just... tough it out? Once the contract's signed and the money clears, he can't force you to stay. You walk away then."
Her tone softened, almost pleading. "Just go smooth things over. The whole sales center's quarterly target is riding on this. If I were younger—hell, if I looked like you—I'd do it myself."
Vivian shook her head violently. "Olivia, no. That man is sick. I can't—"
I swallowed hard, then stood. "I'll go. Vivian and I worked the deal together. I'll talk to Richard."
I shrugged, forcing calm. "Besides, I don't have a boyfriend. Whatever happens... I'll handle it."
Olivia's expression flickered—something almost like guilt. "Fine. Just... be smart."
That evening, I dialed Richard's number.
The old man sounded surprised, then smug. He rattled off an address and hung up before I could respond.
I stood frozen in my shoebox apartment for a long moment. Then I changed.
Before leaving, a thought hit me—why wait for that bastard to force me? I'd take control.
I grabbed a razor and took care of everything myself. Slipped into my heels.
To reel him in, I chose a sheer chiffon dress, fitted at the waist to highlight every curve.
Just in case, I stopped at the pharmacy downstairs. Plan B. Pocketed the box like a grim insurance policy.
At Richard's door, I steadied my breath and knocked.
It swung open instantly. His eyes raked over me, dark with hunger.
That old man's gaze gleamed. Hook, line, and sinker.
I sighed inside—tonight was going to be long.
Richard pretended indifference. "You came alone? Where's Vivian?"
I painted on a smile. "She's not feeling well. I'm here to apologize for her."
"Apologize?" His lips curled. "Then let's see how convincing you can be."
End of The Fallen Salesgirl Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to The Fallen Salesgirl book page.