Dangerous Mr Rogers

The day started with crisp, golden sunlight filtering through the glass panes of my penthouse office, hinting at perfection. But, as usual, someone found a way to ruin it. My employees. They never failed to test my patience.

"Samira!" I barked, stepping out of the private elevator. My voice echoed through the marble hallway, cold and sharp as the heels clicking beneath me.

The scent hit me first. Cheap cologne. An assault on my senses. I froze, my hand tightening around the leather strap of my designer bag. Someone used my elevator.

I turned toward Samira as she practically sprinted toward me, her perpetual fake smile plastered across her face. She held out a cup of coffee like it was an olive branch.

"Good morning, ma'am," she chirped. "Here's your coffee. And about your schedule..."

I raised a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Stop. Just stop." My eyes bore into hers as I pointed toward the elevator. "Who used it?"

Her smile faltered. "I-I'm not sure, ma'am. But the Bree..."

"I don't care about Bree, or whoever else is on that schedule. I want the person fired. Immediately. If they can't follow simple instructions, they have no place here."

"But ma'am, the other elevator..."

I raised an eyebrow, silencing her again. "Are you still standing here? Or are you handling it?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Of course, ma'am. Right away." She scurried off, heels clicking furiously as I swept past her toward my office.

These people thought rules were optional just because they weren't in my position. They didn't understand what it took to get here, how I clawed my way past every man who thought he could do better, every snide whisper about being my grandfather's granddaughter.

I pushed open the door to my office, the cool air and minimalistic decor wrapping around me like armor. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city I owned, figuratively and, in many cases, literally. I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile before sinking into my leather chair.

The tranquility of my office didn't last long. Just as I opened my laptop, a commotion broke out in the hallway.

"Please, don't do this!" a man's voice pleaded, raw with desperation. "This is my only job! The other elevator wasn't working when I got here, I had no choice!"

I sighed, massaging my temple. How predictable.

Samira reappeared in the doorway, hesitant. "Ma'am, he's..."

"Handle it," I snapped.

"Yes, but he..."

I slammed my pen down, the sharp sound making her jump. "Do you think I care? If I let one person get away with breaking the rules, the next thing you know, they'll be drinking champagne in my office and wearing my shoes. Make an example of him."

Samira hesitated for a moment before nodding and backing out of the room.

Outside, the man's pleas grew louder. "No, please, I have a family! I've been loyal"

The door clicked shut, cutting him off. Good. If he couldn't respect my authority, he didn't belong here.

Samira returned a few minutes later, her expression carefully neutral. She resumed reading my schedule like nothing had happened, though I could see the tension in her shoulders.

"At 10 a.m., you have a meeting with the Bree Company executives to finalize the contract terms. Lunch is scheduled for 12:30 with Mr. Adebola to discuss..."

"Cancel it."

She blinked. "The lunch?"

"All of it. I'm not interested in wasting my time on things that don't matter. If it's important, they'll come to me."

"But the Bree..."

"Reschedule," I said curtly. "Or better yet, delegate it. That's what I pay you for, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am." Her voice was quiet, submissive. Just the way I liked it.

I dove into my work, the hours slipping away as I reviewed reports and approved projects. Numbers always made sense to me unlike people. People were messy, emotional, prone to mistakes. But numbers? Numbers were power.

But alas by late morning, Samira timidly knocked on my office door.

"Ma'am, the Bree family has arrived for the meeting," she announced, her voice tentative.

I looked up from the reports on my desk, arching an eyebrow. "Do they think arriving early earns them extra points?" I set my pen down with deliberate slowness. "Send them in. And bring coffee. The good one, not that garbage you drink."

Samira nodded and scurried off. Moments later, the door opened, and three figures entered: Victor Bree, the aging patriarch, his son Michael, and their lawyer, a sharp-eyed woman named Gloria.

"Ms. Akintola," Victor began, his tone overly warm as he extended a hand. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with us."

I didn't bother standing, instead gesturing for them to sit. "Let's skip the pleasantries, shall we? Time is money, and I assume you'd like to keep your costs down."

Victor's smile faltered for a split second before he regained his composure. They sat across from me, their postures stiff. Samira entered with the coffee, setting cups in front of each of us.

"Your proposal for the dam is ambitious," I began, leaning back in my chair. "But ambition doesn't equal reality. Your timeline is unrealistic, your budget laughable, and your environmental impact assessment if you can even call it that, is riddled with holes."

Michael, the younger Bree, bristled. "We've consulted top engineers for this project. Our timeline is aggressive, yes, but it's achievable. And the environmental concerns have been exaggerated by activists.."

I cut him off with a sharp laugh. "Activists? No, Mr. Bree, I don't base my assessments on drum circles and protest signs. My team ran the numbers. Your current plan would destabilize the entire region. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Victor raised a hand to placate me. "Ms. Akintola, we're here to collaborate. We're open to adjustments, provided they don't inflate the budget beyond what's reasonable."

"There's no such thing as reasonable when you're asking for my company's name to be attached to your vanity project," I shot back.

Gloria, the lawyer, finally spoke up, her tone calm but steely. "Ms. Akintola, surely there's room for negotiation here. You're known for your ability to find innovative solutions. We're prepared to offer incentives to ensure this partnership is mutually beneficial."

I leaned forward, clasping my hands on the desk. "Incentives don't pay for damages when things go wrong. If you want my company involved, you'll follow my terms: a revised timeline, a 30% increase in your budget to address environmental safeguards, and full oversight by my engineers."

Michael opened his mouth to argue, but Victor silenced him with a glance.

"We'll need to review these terms," Victor said carefully. "But I'll admit, they're... comprehensive."

"Comprehensive is just another word for necessary," I replied. "If you're serious about building this dam, you'll accept my terms. If not, feel free to shop around for someone who doesn't care about quality."

The room was silent for a moment, tension thick in the air. Finally, Victor stood, extending his hand again.

"We'll be in touch, Ms. Akintola. Thank you for your time."

I shook his hand briefly, my grip firm. "Don't keep me waiting too long. My schedule fills up fast."

As they left, I caught Michael muttering under his breath, something about arrogance. I smiled to myself. Let them grumble. At the end of the day, they'd come back because they needed me more than I needed them.

By mid-afternoon, I decided to visit the construction site for our latest project, a commercial complex that would cement my company's dominance in the city.

The site was a hive of activity, workers in hard hats and reflective vests moving like ants. I stepped out of my car, my Louboutins sinking slightly into the dirt, and surveyed the scene with a critical eye.

"Ms. Akintola!" The contractor, Mr. Johnson, hurried toward me, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Good to see you. We're ahead of schedule, as promised."

"Of course you are," I said, barely glancing at him. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

I strode past him, heels clicking against the temporary flooring. The workers stopped what they were doing to stare some with admiration, others with resentment.

"She really thinks she's better than us, doesn't she?" one of them muttered, loud enough for me to hear.

I stopped in my tracks, turning slowly to face him. "Excuse me?"

The man froze, his face paling.

"Do you have something to say to me?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.

"Uh, n-no, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am."

"That's what I thought."

"Apologies, Ms. Akintola," Mr. Johnson interjected quickly, glaring at the worker. "I'll handle it."

I gave him a pointed look. "See that you do. I don't tolerate insubordination."

The rest of the visit passed without incident, though the tension in the air was palpable. As I climbed back into my car, I allowed myself a small smile. Fear was a powerful motivator.

By evening, the city had transformed into a glittering jewel, its lights twinkling like stars against the velvet sky. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, a glass of wine in hand, surveying the kingdom I had claimed. The skyline was a testament to power-my power.

The soft hum of my phone interrupted the moment. I picked it up, glancing at the screen. The name "Victor Bree" flashed across it. I smiled, a slow, satisfied curl of my lips.

I let it ring twice before answering.

"Ms. Akintola," Victor's voice came through, clipped and subdued. "We've reviewed your terms. While they're... difficult, we're prepared to move forward."

I swirled the wine in my glass, savoring the moment. "Good decision, Mr. Bree. I knew you'd see reason."

There was a pause, and I could almost hear him gritting his teeth. "You'll have the signed agreement by tomorrow morning."

"Perfect," I said, my tone light but firm. "I look forward to seeing it. And, Mr. Bree? Make sure your son keeps his opinions to himself next time. I don't have patience for misplaced bravado."

Victor's response was tight. "Understood. Have a good evening, Ms. Akintola."

"You too, Mr. Bree."

I hung up, setting the phone down with a satisfied sigh. Another victory.

As I leaned against the glass, the wine warm in my hand, a flicker of unease crept into my chest. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there-a shadow in the back of my mind.

This was everything I had worked for. Power. Success. Control. And yet, in the quiet moments, when the city was hushed and my fortress felt more like a cage, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

I pushed the thought aside. Weakness had no place here. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. I had a kingdom to run, and nothing-not self-doubt, not fleeting emotions, not even a city full of people waiting for me to fail-would stop me.

With that, I drained the last of my wine and turned away from the window. The world outside could wait. For now, it was just me and the empire I had built, perfect in its solitude.

The city lights sparkled like diamonds as I sank into the oversized bathtub in my penthouse, the warm water lapping at my skin. The bathroom's glass wall offered an unobstructed view of the skyline, a constant reminder of everything I had built.

This was my sanctuary. My fortress.

I closed my eyes, letting the day's events replay in my mind. Firing that man had been necessary a warning to anyone else who thought they could undermine me. The workers at the construction site would think twice before speaking out of turn again.

Life was perfect.