Powerful People


“Synonymous with Corruption, Dominance, Control. The naïve want the power to change nations, the cynical want power for selfish gains. But I want it in the name of Revenge.”

Iris Adaline is dauntless.

When she is assigned to write her first story on Aiden Anderson, it ignites a flame in her that will only be extinguished after seeing every part of his empire collapse. She had the perfect plan. Gain his trust, expose his secrets, then see him fall.

Aiden Anderson liked control.

When he first laid his eyes on Iris Adaline, he knew exactly who she was. He knew her intentions, he knew her drive, and he knew the danger. But he couldn’t keep away. He was adamant on seeing her on her knees, begging for mercy, and begging for him.

Sparks fly when two determined forces collide in a battle of power, control, and desire.


3. The Photoshoot

The Photoshoot

When I took an uber home that night I passively aggressively sat in silence. My driver seemed at ease and oblivious to my frustration. He continued to make failed attempts at conversation, and finally gave up when the only responses he got were animal-like grunts.

   I undid my bun and let my brown hair cascade to my shoulders. A distasteful expression encapsulated my eyes as I pondered the situation. Justice is supposed to reign! How am I supposed to expose him when all he does is make advances? My goal would be harder to achieve than I estimated.

  When I entered the apartment door, Jasmine waited for me with a bottle of wine and two glasses."Just give me the entire bottle," I say, exhausted and frustrated.

  "I want to hear all about it. Was he hot? Super serious?" She laughs wiggling her eyebrows, "did anything happen?"

  "He's an asshole," I persist. A hot asshole, I correct myself. Even though my goal is to destroy his reputation in the name of journalism, even I couldn't deny that there was no professionalism today.

  As we were laughing about reality television my cell phone rang. It was Aiden.

  "Trying to continue our conversation, Mr. Anderson?" I comment sarcastically.

   "Don't resist me, sweetheart. Your body won't let you," he responded bluntly. "But I called to schedule a time when we can finish our... discussion."

   "How about next week, Tuesday?"

   "Please Miss Adaline I'm much busier than you are. You will accomodate to my schedule. See you next Saturday, I'll send my driver for you."

   I roll my eyes so far into the back of my head I get a small migraine. I hear another female voice through the telephone, whispering inaudible things to him. No doubt it was some young girl who fell for his false charms. This guy was an asshole by all standards.

   "Goodbye, Aiden," I grit. "I hope you know I'm flipping you off right now."

   "Bye Miss Adaline. Such a sweetheart. Don't hurt yourself dreaming of me tonight."

   I slam my end call button, frustrated with life in general.


   The next morning I had a free day. In between working on my story and binge watching reruns of FRIENDS, I realized that my roommate had forgotten her sketch designs when she left for work. In a rush I immediately drove over to her work at Vogue Magazine.

   There was always excitement when visiting Jasmine's workplace. There were always creative people here as well as models wearing strange fashion. Today there were models in all different types of metallic spacesuit attire, and a couple were painted the different colors of the planets.

   It confused me, was this considered cool to wear? I guess I've never understood 'high fashion'. It was only then I realized that I forgot to change out of my pajamas.

   "Goodmorning, please direct me to Jasmine Rainford. I'm here to deliver her sketch designs."

   The receptionist looked at me with disbelief and was extremely annoyed. She examined my outfit, which consisted of sweatpants and a shirt that said: "fries before guys".

   "She's on the fifth floor in the design department, room 302."

   Clutching to all of her designs I ran as fast as I could into room 302. But it hadn't been the design department, instead, I'd interrupted a photography session. Two photographers and a lights director stared at me in shock.

   "I'm so sorry to intrude, I'm looking for the design department."

   "That's on floor five. You are on floor six," the male photographer gruffly responded.

   "Who's interrupting this photography session? I've got places to be after this!" Someone responded with a familiar husky voice.

   The man was in another designer tux, standing in a revealing manner, and the lights had been focused on him. In this light, his features were amplified. Aiden's jawline and muscle structure were protruding from the fitting clothing. Yet somehow, he managed to still look professional.

   "Iris?" He smirked when he saw me, "nice shirt. I too prefer 'fries before guys'."

   My face became red with anger, embarrassment, and irritation. I tried to casually shield my eyes, not wanting to stare at him and give him the attention he wanted.

   "I'm not here for you, Mr. Anderson, contrary to what you so desperately want to believe," I surprise myself with the amount of composure my voice imitates. "Not every girl on the face of this goddamn planet wants to sleep with you."

   He walks up to me in the same manner in which he pursued me during our interview. He loosens his tie and whispers in my ear, "I know not every girl… Just this one. I like it when you’re feisty, Miss Adaline, you know where to find me if you need me.," and casually walks back.

   Aiden's breath is warm on my neck, causing a shiver to run down my spine. Even when I drive back to the apartment I can still his presence on my neck. Every time I think about him I have a different feeling. It shifted drastically from irritation, unease, and something close to desire. The thing which infuriated me the most was that he knew he had this effect, and used it against me.

   I could not wait for the satisfaction of bringing him down.


   Because of the incident, the rough draft of my article had basically become an essay about why the CEO of Anderson Enterprises was a sad excuse for a human being. It was precisely 5,000 words motivated by pure hatred.

   After submitting it the next morning, Mr. Rodgers called me into his office. He seemed more prepared than last time. Many of the papers on his desk were now gone, leaving only my report.

  "Iris, what the hell is this? I do not pay you to flirt with our subjects!" Mr. Rodgers gestures to my article and my recording.

   "I'm sorry Mr. Rodgers, I mean Damon. He was avoiding my questions. We are meeting again next Saturday and I can assure you that you will get your answers." In a meek tone I respond, refusing to look him in the eye.

   "Change of plans Miss Adaline." He walks up to where I'm standing and wraps his arms around my back. He then placed my hands on his firm chest. There was just a tint of bitterness in his voice. "Your story is going to be the main story. I want you to do all that you can to destroy him. Gain his trust, find out his secrets, and take him down."

"But I..." I start to stutter, confused about our entire conversation.

"You what?" He questions, leaning forward, "are you surprised? But I know that you were going to expose him all along."

Damon then gazed at my lips, and softly lifted my chin up to meet my eyes. He gently pressed a kiss to my lips. I froze, my breathing shallowed. Despite feeling the warmth in his toned arms I became frozen. Damon was my supervisor. Was he jealous of Aiden? He took my stillness as an invitation to kiss me harder.

"Manipulate him in any way that you can... Get your revenge Miss Adaline," he whispered into my ear. His cologne was intoxicating, my mind fuzzed. On his lips there were bits of my chapstick.

Does Damon know what Anderson Enterprises did to my father? Why did he kiss me? A million different questions ran through my mind. I left his office knowing only one thing, something was very, very, wrong.

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