Tears running down her face not only ruined her mascara, but even damped the paper of the high gloss magazine firmly pressed to her face. Who else had an income like hers, living a life of luxury and even now at work she could afford to sit in her reclining chair, sipping at the bone china cup of first class Darjeeling tea. When after a while of speechless staring he spoke, Alicia could hear the voice of a man, who was used to give orders, something she recognized easily, as she herself had used that tone on various occasions, just to show others that she was in charge of the situation. Would she be raped? Putting the cup back to the table she adjusted the fit of her knee high black patent boots before she rose out of the chair and stepped to her desk, pressed a button of her intercom and, after seconds said: “Could I have another tea, Miss Nicolette?”
Even though she was a powerful woman, she still tried to be polite and ladylike, something, that a lot of people forgot, once they had a privileged
