AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Before I know it, Juliette is talking about booking me gigs. “You’ll be shooting a spread for Chloe. They are already dying to get you in their Fall Collection ad campaign,” Juliette tells me. Oh my goodness, things are moving so fast.
I look down at my phone and notice about a dozen messages from Mr. Peak’s office. Uh oh. I call Mr. Peak’s managing director.
“Hello, Elliot.”
“Sarah. Where are you?!”
“I’m, uh, doing some business.”
“Mr. Peak is looking for you. You have to get down here. Mr. Peak doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Yeah, tell me about it.
***
I take the car over to Mr. Peak’s office at Columbus Circle. After thinking about it for a while, I decide to not tell Mr. Peak about my new modeling career. He will most likely be thermonuclear that I was out of the townhouse when he called for me. All I can say is, life is not boring when you are Mr. Peak’s gal!
As soon as I get out of the car, Mr. Peak’s New York managing director grabs me and rushes inside of the building.
“Where were you?! He’s pissed.”
“I signed on to a modeling agency!” I blurted out. Damn, I just couldn’t help myself. I’m so excited my mouth betrayed me.
We hurry into the elevator. The managing director gets on his phone and says, “Please tell Mr. Peak that Miss Sulamari is on her way up.”
We get to the forty-second floor. The managing director rushes me past the trading floor, down the hall and over to Mr. Peak’s gigantic corner office. My broad-shouldered boss is pacing the floor like a caged bull.
“Thank you, Elliot,” Mr. Peak says as the managing director makes a quit exit.
Mr. Peak walks over to me and picks me up. He carries me across the room and sits me right on top of his desk. My boss rips open my shirt and grabs my bre**asts. He begins to kiss my neck. I spread my legs apart. Mr. Peaks begins to rub me just the way I like it.
My boss runs his hand into my underwear and begins to finger me. I lie back onto the table and moan like a virgin. Fuck. He is so nice with his hands. He stares at my face as I begin to pant. I grab each end of the table and scream my approval.
As Mr. Peak fingers me, he chokes me with his other hand. “You don’t know how to pick up your phone, Sarah?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Peak,” I say as my boss fingers me so nice and fast that I cum like a teen on prom night.
Mr. Peak slides his fingers from my underwear and pushes me off of the table. I fall to the ground in a puddle of ecstasy. My boss strolls over to his personal bar and takes a celebratory drink of Chardonnay. I crawl across the room and beg Mr. Peak for a drink. He lifts me up and hands me a glass. “Thank you, Sir,” I tell my boss as I take a cool sip of the white wine.
“So do you enjoy being famous?” my boss asks me.
I smile a little and can’t help be honest. “I do indeed love it, Sir.”
“There is a lot of upside - money, adoration, attention, approval from the masses,” my boss explains.
“Yes, a lot of upside, Mr. Peak,” I concur as I take another sip of the wine.
My boss walks up to his desk, grabs a large white envelope and tosses it in my direction. I drop the wine glass as the envelope hits me in the chest. “Welcome to the downside of fame, Sarah,” Mr. Peak says as the envelope lands at my feet.
I look at the envelope. What the hell can be in there? What downside is waiting for me? I don’t want to pick up that envelope. I don’t want to know that my great life can be shattered. Everything is too perfect right now.
As much as I don’t want to know the downside, I must always obey my boss. I bend over and pick up the envelope. I open it. Inside are large 8 x 11 photos of me walking around New York City. There are more photos of me back in L.A. before I worked at the Peak Fund. I start to get scared. I look inside the envelope and find more of photos of me as a teenager in Thousand Oaks, California. Good God. What the f**k is all this?!
I look back into the envelope and find papers that describe everything about me. They have my address at Venice Beach. There are records of my previous jobs at the Coffee Bean and Burger King. It’s very disconcerting to find your entire life in one envelope.
“You are being tracked,” Mr. Peak says bluntly.
“By who, Sir?”
“I don’t know. This envelope came to me from a mercenary whom I’ve hired in the past. The packet was left at his home in Costa Rica,” my boss says as he walks up to me and takes the envelope. “You only contact a man like that if you want someone kidnapped or killed. Someone wanted him to kidnap you. Right now, I currently have people looking into the matter. For the moment, however, we don’t know who exactly is coming after you.”
