Uncensored Ch. 02 (The Scarlet Key # 1)

They say that there are two types of people in life: those who know what they want and those who get what they want. For most of my existence, it's safe to say that I have fallen into the latter category. My father was a wealthy man, by anyone's standards, and I was given the best things that his piles of money could buy. This isn't to say that I got everything that I wanted when I was a child. No, that came much later. In fact, when I was a child, I seldom got what I wanted. For my fifth birthday I asked for a new bike, and was given a set of gold-leafed business reference guides that my father made me commit to memory.

By the time I was fifteen I knew the family business, a gas and oil company, inside and out. There wasn't a drilling technique that I didn't know step by step, nor a tax loophole that would save the company from substantial losses that I hadn't studied. I was to be the one who took over the company when my father retired. I was the one who was going to be his right hand man until that time came. But none of it really mattered, because I would have given it all back for the chance to just be normal and accepted.

You see, I never quite fit in with the “upper crust” types that my father mingled with, and those that didn't have as much money as I did wanted nothing to do with me because of the reputation that follows people from rich families, even if that reputation couldn't have been further from the truth. I was ostracized from both circles because of who I was—because of who I am. I am, after all, the “eligible bachelor who sleeps with women and then throws them away” and “the asshole who holds too many secrets to count, and buys the silence of the women who are unlucky enough to sleep with him”. Those are the kinds of things that I have heard circulating around rooms at parties and social charity events.

I will admit, that not all of those things are lies. There is, at least, one grain of truth floating about within those mutterings that people whisper, before handing over their big checks to some foundation that is going to help orphans as they sip on their champagne filled flutes. I do have my share of secrets, and have worked very hard to ensure that they never see the sweet light of day. I have written checks to keep those secrets hidden, and I have paid for the silence that the women I’ve been with have promised.

Strangely enough, most of those secrets that lie coiled up within me, like a snake ready to strike, can all be blamed on the color of crimson. Yes, the color red. Red has driven me to do things that men of my status would never dream of doing, and has made me the outcast, of sorts, that I am today. The color red has been my salvation and the ever present thorn in my side. You might not think that something as simple as a color could be such a significant force in someone's life, but I am living proof that it most certainly can be.

******

I woke up late on the morning that I was due to have a meeting at BioDiverse, the environmental consulting agency that was going to be helping Calvin Gas and Oil to be more “eco-friendly”. This was despite the fact that a vast majority of our practices could easily be considered as all-out acts of hostility upon the planet, at least in the eyes of the “tree-hugging” types. That's what my father called them, anyway.

He still ran the company on paper, but I was actually the one who took care of the day to day business operations. In fact, he was now living comfortably with a girlfriend who was half his age, thousands of miles away in our family chateau in the Alps. My mother had died when I was ten. Ever since, he had been with a string of women who wanted nothing more than to get their hands on a pricy token of his affection, at the very least, and a marriage proposal sans pre-nup if they were fortunate.

The woman I had been with the night before had already left. She was a tall blonde that I'd met at the bar down the street. Normally, I didn't care for blondes very much, but she didn't have a problem coloring her hair when we got back to my apartment, especially when I offered to pay her a thousand dollars for her trouble. Believe it or not, I keep a cupboard full of hair coloring kits, ranging from deep auburn to fire-engine red. There aren't enough red-heads in the city, so I've learned to adapt and make due.

This particular woman, Cindy, I think her name was, said that she had always wanted to give red a try. Then again, a lot of them say that, thinking that it will please me. It doesn't, though. It just sounds…ingenuous. And that, that is where the problem lies. That is why I find it difficult to stay interested in a woman for any longer than an evening. It is because none of them, not a single one, has shown the ability to be honest and authentic when they step into my room. No matter how nice, polite, or obliging they are, they all become nothing more than another girl who could not see past the pretense and see who I really am.

Cindy had let me tie her up and spank her. She had let me touch her naked body as I pressed my nose into her freshly made red hair, whispering things to her that nobody had probably dared whisper to her before. And when I placed the red leather corset around her waist, as I had done with so many other women, she let me tighten the laces as tight as I could. There was no challenge there, no word of contest, and I was growing tired of how easily these women gave in to my requests. I wanted them to put up a bit of a fight before giving in fully, but they never did.

I got out of bed and took a shower before getting dressed in one of my better Armani suits, snapping a pair of polished silver cuff links into the ends of my sleeves and wrapping a striped red tie around my neck. The meeting that I was going to wasn't particularly important, but I never failed to dress to impress, regardless of the occasion. The people who I did business with knew that I was going to show up with a finely pressed, fitted suit on, and a smile that could seal the deal.

The housekeeper came into the room after giving a light knock, followed by the butler, Eddie, who I'd had in my employ for quite some time. He handled the scheduling of all of my meetings and made sure that all of my travel arrangements had been made. In essence, he made my life run like a well-oiled machine. Eddie was even the one that escorted the women out in the morning and made sure that they got home safely—after reminding them that their silence was not just appreciated, but expected.

“What time is the car arriving?” I asked. “I don't want to be late to my appointment.”

“It will be here momentarily,” Eddie replied. “I've just received a call from the driver. He says he hit a bit of traffic but he is on his way.”

I nodded and adjusted my tie in the mirror, before walking into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. Eddie had my usual breakfast, an English muffin with strawberry jam, and a ruby red grapefruit waiting for me on the table.

“The car's ready, sir,” Eddie said, handing me my briefcase as I walked out the door.

In the car on the way over, making our way through the hilly landscape of San Francisco, I went through my schedule for the day. I had a series of meetings that I was to attend, followed by a dinner at the Mayor's house. He and I had gone to school together, so I made sure to catch up with him every now and again, despite the fact that his wife didn't care for me very much. I think that she had given in to those rumors floating around, and chose to believe that they were all true. So, dinners at his home were often filled with covert remarks about how I wasn't a good influence, or some other derogatory whisper when no one else was listening.

When we reached the BioDiverse building, lined with its solar panels and large windmill out in front, the driver opened the door and let me out. I was instantly greeted by Emily, an older woman with a cold look about her and oozing professionalism from every one of her aged pores.

“Good morning, Mr. Calvin,” she said. “I hope that the drive over was pleasant.”

“Well, I only live a few minutes away,” I replied. “Is Sam ready to see me?”

“Of course,” she answered. “I'll take you up to his office right away.”

We walked in through the front doors and were met by the receptionist, with a large smile and plastered across her young face and a phone at her ear, which she immediately put down when the woman who was escorting me shot her a chilled glance. We finally reached the office after walking for quite some time, down one corridor, followed by another. The building was one that appeared to be rather small from outside, but full of labyrinthine turns and lengthy hallways once you got inside.

“Mr. Calvin,” Sam exclaimed when he saw me, walking forward with an extended hand.

“Hi, Sam,” I replied, entering his office.

The woman began closing all of the blinds while I sat down in front of the desk. I thought it a bit strange, so I asked why we would need the blinds drawn. Sam answered that it was because there were prying eyes in the office. He said that my account was one that they had been after for some time, and that many of his top consultants were already “chewing at the bit” to be assigned to the project.

We went on with the meeting, which dragged on for far too long. He rambled about how they were the leading environmental consulting agency on the west coast, and bragged about the number of clients that they had—even dropping the name of some other major companies shamelessly. It was obvious that he was trying to win me over. Mid-way through the meeting, there was a knock on the door, followed by the entrance of a man. I noticed that he smelled like alcohol, and Sam must have noticed it to, because he quickly asked the man to gather some reports from downstairs in order to get him out of the room.

I let my mind wander as I sat there, thinking about the night before and what I might bring to the dinner that evening. Last time I had brought over a bottle of red wine, but the sight of it sitting there in the glass on the mayor's table made me a bit dizzy, with its lush and dark crimson hue. So, I decided against wine this particular time, and made a note to have Eddie order some nice champagne for the occasion.

Finally, when I couldn't bear to sit for one more moment, I cut to the chase with Sam.

“I want a firm that can ensure that my company is viewed in a favorable light in terms of our environmental policies,” I said. “Apparently, your company is good at what they do, so I will have no problem having my lawyer draw up some papers that will make you our prime environmental consultancy firm.”

We shook hands and the woman began to pull back the blinds from the windows again. Sam was obviously pleased that I had agreed to add Calvin Gas and Oil to their list of clientele, because he couldn't get rid of the smile that was drawn across his face.

Just as the woman stepped away from the window, a flash of red caught my eye. It was one of the most vibrant shades of red that I had ever seen, and I looked over to see what it was, only to find that it was the long, flowing hair of a woman seated at a desk in the corner of the next room. Her skin was porcelain, and she had stunning green eyes that seemed to glow with an unmatched intensity. Even though she was placing chips into her mouth clumsily, I could tell that she had a certain grace about her that was seldom seen.

“I'll agree to a bonus if you honor one condition,” I said.

“And what is that?” Sam asked, a bit taken aback, but thrilled, at the prospect of increasing his profit on the deal.

I glanced over to the window again and nodded to my line of vision. “I want that girl to come to Calvin Gas and Oil tomorrow to be your representative.”