There was something about the cruel CEO that always arrested the eyes. His bearing was such that in every room he stepped into, he became the center of attraction.
Perhaps it was his smart top notch suits, or the gait in his stride, or that smirk that was annoying as hell, but alluring.
I watched him step out of the elevator, looking every inch the CEO he was in a grey suit fashioned to his fitting. A man followed, carrying a leather briefcase. The man was dark and advanced in age, probably into his late fifties, but his posture and his dressing showed he was still agile. I didn't need to be told that he had to be his driver, but if I'm being honest, I never pictured Richard Wellington as the type who would hire a man within such an age bracket.
He didn't even look at me as he walked past and I didn't blame him, pride has always been one of the thesaurus in defining Richard Wellington.
As courtesy demanded, I greeted the elderly man,
