Miguel stood up and ran to the door. But it wouldn’t budge.

He was wrong. So wrong.

This man was dangerous.

“No. Let me go!” He shouted.

“Open the door!”

He kept twisting the door knob and he tried to pulling open. He was about to kick the door with his small feet when the man held him by his arms. He was turned around and his back was pushed against the door.

Oh no! The was too close for Miguel’s comfort. His personal space was invaded by the man’s rich scent. The combination of perfume, tobacco and something else was too pleasant, tantalizing eve. It was dizzying.

“If you could just shut up and let me continue little Angelo. Unless you want me to tie you on the chair, I would gladly do so.” He leered.

Miguel pushed him but he wouldn’t budge.

“Just- just move. You – you’re polluting the air I breathe.”

Miguel huffed.

The man chuckled. His mouth hovered close to Miguel’s ears.

Miguel felt the man’s warm breath and it made his ears tingle in heat. However, he blamed his blunder for that. Polluting the air, I breath was not what he exactly wanted to say but it was the one closest to a curse he could mutter without being in trouble. The language barrier was hard. If only he was speaking his own language, he would have been able to tell the man better.

Miguel did not know how long he was standing there with his eyes closed. But by the time he opened his eyes, the man was sitting on the leather chair as though nothing happened. It greatly confused Miguel’s recovering body.

“Here’s the deal little Angelo. I want you to play a role.”

The man leaned back on his chair. His posture was as regal as a prince. Even if he was sitting down his frame exuded authority.

He opened his drawer and brought out something, a black sling bag.

“My bag!”

Miguel left the door and stalked the man’s table. He was about to reach for his bag but his wrist was captured and engulfed by the man’s large hand. Miguel looked at the man’s face and quickly got lost into the man’s green orbs.

“I placed my number in your phone. It’s on speed dial 1. I expect your decision tomorrow before 9 pm.”

The enchanting moment was broken by a ring tone, most likely from Miguel’s smartphone phone.

“I don’t even know your name.”

Miguel frowned and eventually snatched his hand away from the man.

“Henry Claude Kingsley. Remember that little angel.”

He smirked.

Miguel grabbed his bag and stepped back.

“You are a bad man Mr. Kingsley.”

Henry smirked. Oh, he was a bad man indeed. But did he care?

No.

He had been called much worse. 

“A driver will drop you off wherever you want. He is waiting for you at the garage. Ystell will bring you there.”

And that was Miguel’s cue to rush out of the room. Surprisingly the door opened once he turned the door knob.

Miguel couldn’t sleep well that night. He kept tossing and turning.

The events that happened were so unexpected it left him baffled.

Rich people must be insane.

What did it mean to role play?

He was not an actor. He barely knew how to keep a lie.

Miguel had to admit that the man looked pleasing, but that was it.

Miguel placed his phone down. There was not much information about Mr. Kingsley. It was as though he did not exist. The photos and description in the internet did not match the man that he met today.

The stress was making his head ache worse. He was not even recovered.

What was role play?

Why can’t Mr. Kingsley just be a good Samaritan and expect nothing in return?