Chapter 199/Serving the Arrogant King

Chapter 199: 199/Serving the Arrogant King

Chapter 199

Stephanie’s point of view

My eyes darted to the clock on the wall; the hands were almost touching 6:00 AM. At that exact second, a fresh weight crashed down on my shoulders like a boulder. I remembered the insufferable Vincent and his demanding temper. He had set a strict condition for me to arrive at the company at exactly 7:30 AM, and had even tasked me with driving to his house to pick him up myself, as if I were his personal chauffeur. I felt a suffocating pressure tightening around my throat while I was still held hostage in this cursed house overflowing with filth.

With trembling legs, I walked toward the wardrobe, pulling the doors open quickly and grabbing my work attire with frantic, agitated movements. Suddenly, the bed behind me shifted with a soft rustle, and Alexander slowly lifted his head. He peered at me with sleepy, confused eyes, murmuring in a groggy tone: "Steph... what are you doing?"

I didn’t turn to face him fully, continuing to assemble my clothes with hands that refused to remain still. I answered dryly: "I’m getting ready for work."

He reached out to grab his phone from the nightstand to check the time, then sank back against the headboard in confusion, asking: "It’s still far too early, sweetheart."

I tried my best to force a calm expression onto my face, frantically searching my chaotic mind for an excuse to placate his doubts. I replied with forced quickness: "I know, Alex... but I’m trying my hardest to be strictly disciplined with my working hours lately, and I don’t want to be late under any circumstance."

He knit his brows, completely unconvinced, and rasped: "But official hours don’t even start until eight."

I let out a sharp exhale that betrayed my mounting impatience under all the stress, my eyes shining with a silent plea: "Alex... please, this is what makes me comfortable right now. I don’t want you to pressure me about these details."

His features softened in surrender, and he nodded quietly: "Alright, Steph, have it your way."

I moved quickly toward the mirror with mechanical steps. I threw on my clothes and brushed through my hair with rapid, agitated strokes. Reaching for my makeup, I hurriedly applied a few touches to mask the glaring paleness that the shock from the downstairs bedroom had carved into my cheeks. Before my hand could touch the doorknob to leave, I felt Alexander’s soft footsteps approaching, until he stood directly behind me, towering over my frame.

He wrapped his strong arms around my waist, pulling me firmly against his warm chest. He leaned down toward my ear, whispering in a voice thick with desire: "I miss you so much."

I tried to politely and tensely wriggle out of his grip, saying: "I have to go to work now, Alex... I’m going to be late."

He didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened it, making my breathing shallow, as he slowly buried his face into the curve of my neck. He pressed a warm, lingering kiss against my skin that sent a cold shiver racing down my spine. He followed it with a promising whisper: "Tonight... I will satisfy all of this longing."

My body trembled slightly. I gently tried to pry his hands away, saying in a rush: "Alex... let go of me now, I really have to go. Time is running out."

He took a few steps back, a quiet smile playing on his lips as he said: "Tonight, sweetheart."

I forced a tight, fake smile to hide my internal panic, replying: "See you."

I hurried out of the room, descending the stairs with rapid steps as if fleeing a curse that haunted the very walls of the mansion. I rushed into the courtyard, climbed into my car, started the engine, and immediately drove off toward Vincent’s house.

Upon my arrival, I parked the car in the courtyard of Vincent’s estate. I climbed out and walked up to the massive front door, knocking firmly. The door quickly swung open, revealing the maid in her white apron. She smiled politely, saying: "Hello, Miss Miller."

I replied with flat, dry features: "Hello... Could you please call Mr. Vincent?"

The maid nodded obediently: "Yes, of course."

Before she could turn around, I added in a rush: "I’ll be waiting for him in the car outside."

I retraced my steps, sliding into the driver’s seat with frayed nerves. A few minutes ticked by, feeling like hours, until I spotted him walking out of the house with confident strides and his usual arrogance. He was wearing an elegant gray suit, tailored to absolute perfection without a single flaw. He approached the car and calmly opened the passenger door, but he didn’t slide in immediately. Instead, he leaned down toward me, a mocking smirk playing on his lips as he spoke in an arrogant tone: "Miss Miller... I am not at all accustomed to opening doors for myself. Next time, make sure you get out and open the door for me."

I swallowed my rage with immense difficulty, nodding rigidly to avoid instigating a problem, and replied: "Yes, Mr. Vincent."

He climbed in beside me, shutting the door with a light thud. I pulled the car out, driving smoothly through the semi-empty streets. A suffocating silence hung inside the cabin; neither of us uttered a single word. He simply monitored the road with cold, unreadable features.

We arrived at the corporate building and rode the elevator upstairs. The executive penthouse floor was completely empty, draped in absolute silence since none of the employees had arrived yet. Vincent walked toward his office. Before stepping inside, he turned his body and looked down at me with condescension, commanding in an authoritative tone: "Miss Miller... bring me my coffee, quickly."

I walked with exhausted steps toward the coffee machine, preparing a cup precisely to his preferred specifications. I then entered his office, quietly placing it on the glass surface of his desk. He stared at me with cold eyes, stating flatly: "I need new designs and sketches for fall dresses."

I rested my palm on the edge of the desk, asking quietly: "Is there a specific number you have in mind?"

"Ten dresses," he answered coldly, without blinking.

I nodded automatically, replying: "Alright... I’ll work on them throughout this week."

He sat up straighter, challenging me with a decisive tone that left no room for negotiation: "I want them tomorrow."

My eyes widened in shock, my mouth dropping open in pure disbelief at this impossible demand. I said, my voice rising slightly: "Mr. Vincent! What you are asking for is absolutely impossible by all standards!"

Not a single trace of care crossed his features at my protest. He simply wrapped his long fingers around the cup, stating rigidly: "I want them on my desk tomorrow, without excuses."