Blackmailing His Runaway Bride by Dance-is-me (free biff chip and kipper ebooks .txt) 📕

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. The past few days had been a mental hell for him. Apart from his norm of attending meeting after meetings, the fact that he was so close yet far from his real family members tortured him.

And there was the fact that he had not found a suitable time to devote to searching for a wife.

He needed a break, he needed some sort of entertainment. At that moment, in order to find his plans working out perfectly, he needed a clear mind.

Charles picked up his phone and called his secretary.

"Sir, you called me," Miss Kane said as she walked in with careful steps, her dress quite provocative as always.

"Yes," he poured himself some whiskey, his one and loyal company, "are there any events in town that I can attend? I need a break."

As he swirled the quarter-filled glass in his majestic hold, he locked eyes with his secretary.

"I don't know..." The woman's eyes darted with uncertainty.

"Miss Kane, I like to think that you are good at what you do. I would be quite disappointed if my thoughts are proven to be wrong. So, instead of telling me you don't know anything, I should be hearing you say you will be finding out if there is any."

The slight cruelty in his voice did not appear to move her, and that was one of the reasons he had her promoted to the status of being his secretary. Unlike some of his employees, she never looked startled whenever he was being the angry, thorough boss.

As expected, Christina Kane nodded her head slightly and said, "I will make sure to find out if there is any."

"Just call me to tell me what you have confirmed. I don't want to be disturbed either, take the rest of the day off." Charles felt his tiredness seep in further. The past few days were indeed tasking and it would be risky for the man to refuse himself a minute of rest.

"Alright, sir."

A few minutes later, she called to inform him about a charity event holding the next day. 

Slipping off the chair onto the rug, Charles resumed his drinking.

He had found his entertainment and he hoped it would be fun. He hoped something reasonable would come out of it and that he wouldn't waste his special time.

If anything, his time was highly precious to him and those who have wasted his time in the past felt a burn they were yet to recover from.

~

Charles Oxford was starting to feel absolute regret as the murmurs in the ballroom reached his ears.

Peeling his eyes off the sight of a group of people who cheered loudly with their champagne glasses, he questioned himself.

Why did he decide to find something to do? Now, the very thing he wished not to happen was occurring. His eyes darted sharply across the room once again and watched the crowd whose bright smiles became unbearable to watch.

Then, the man sighed. His barely existent time was being wasted.

The whole room reeked of boredom. Nothing fun was being done. The music being played was doing more of weighing his soul down. Neither was the exact reason for the gathering being discussed. Nobody was talking about the purpose of the charity.

Their excited chatters were definitely all about business talks. Charles wished to guess that the cluster of expensively dressed men and women would result in a million-dollar deal for some and losses for others.

Either way, it was quite unfortunate that they masked the event with a tag that most of them didn't care about.

Rubbing his huge recently moisturized hands, Charles reasoned that it would have been preferable to spend the whole day locked up in his room with his thoughts and his indulging work than to be at that event.

"Christina." He faced his secretary who he had decided to take along with the intention of relieving her of her work.

It was bad enough that she was going to be stuck with him for a while.

As usual, she was dressed to kill. If not for his morals and principles, Charles knew he would be taking her right into the bathroom as a means of surviving the boredom in the huge space. But, if he did that, Charles knew that he would not like what follows.

He might decide to fire her or she might take his move as an invitation to be with him romantically.

"Yes, Charles," the lady responded, her eyes set on him. Charles had given her the liberty to call him by his first name.

"When is this event supposed to end?"

"In two hours, sir."

"How long have we been here?"

"Ten minutes, sir."

"Um," he hummed and he gave Christina a side glance. The way she had her eyes glued on him made him suddenly feel uneasy.

Charles could read her spoken words loud and clear, Christina wanted him. At any cost.

He was used to seeing such looks.

Shifting his stance slightly to the left, his hand clutching his almost empty wine glass a bit harder, Charles's eyes travelled to the entrance and at that moment, the most unexpected sight greeted him.

Realizing his heart was thumping, Charles shifted again, cleared his throat, and pocketed his hands into the silkiness of his suit trouser.

Within a swift second, Charles gathered his ego, pride, and masculinity into one big attitude, he could not afford to appear weak as he just felt.

His surprised sight traveled back to Isabella who was walking hand in hand with a tall guy toward one of the small gatherings in the room.

With his sharp gaze, he observed her movements. He tried to determine what was different about her, he wished to see how much she had changed.

She had not changed a lot.

She was dressed in a red, long-sleeved pencil gown that held her body in the right places. Isabella always looked good in red. Always.

It made her eyes appear fiery like the character she was. Or rather, the woman he knew.

Her hair, brunette and long was curled into layers and they kept dancing as she talked and laughed with the people she was with.