The Bet: Part 4

Here is the next installment of "The Bet"! Let me know what you think with a like or a comment! Still would love to hear what you would like to see later in the plot!

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Claire took off her sunglasses with a sigh, looking up at the large house with pursed lips. Just as she had assumed based on the address, it was a tacky, cookie-cutter design. The sort of house that someone who had never been inside a truly expensive home thought looked impressive. She had intended to schedule this first face-to-face out as far as possible as a minor power play; a way to show Zane that she was in charge and he would just have to wait. But, according to Perlah, there had been some sort of scheduling mix-up with her plans for today, and Zane was the only appointment on the calendar that could be moved up at short notice. Which meant she was seeing him just a few days after he had hired her. Which made it look like she was rushing to be at his service. 

She slammed her car door as she got out, already in a foul mood before she even had to speak to the little worm. 

Claire noted a large, dark SUV from a luxury brand parked in front of the garage as she made her way to the door and rolled her eyes. No wonder Zane had been willing to overpay for an interior designer. He obviously loved to flash cash. She stabbed a finger at the call button on Zane’s video doorbell and crossed her arms, tapping a foot impatiently. The sooner she was able to get this meeting over with, the better. Maybe taking this job had been a mistake, even if it did give her the opportunity to put Zane in his place.

The doorbell connected with a chime, and a deep, panting voice on the other end of the line said, “Uhhh, Hello?” 

Claire delicately pinched the bridge of her nose and had to count to three before answering so that she could maintain a professional tone. “Mr. Kruger, this is Claire Harrison. I’m here for our two o’clock,” she managed to get out in a cool customer-service voice. 

Zane barked an undignified laugh. “You mean our three o’clock? I’m afraid you caught me in the middle of something…” in the background, a moaning feminine voice said “Who is it, Z? Tell her to fuck off and get back to work! I was sooooo close.”  

Claire flushed red, certain in the moment that Zane was doing this to fuck with her. “I think you’ll find,” she said icily, “that our meeting is scheduled at two. And I think you knew that already, Mr. Kruger.”

Zane snorted. “Hold on one second, Mona… Look, I don’t know what to tell ya, Claire bear. It says three in my calendar. Are you positive that you have the correct time?”

“I’m quite certain,” said Claire through gritted teeth, not enjoying the casual nickname at all. She navigated to her calendar app to prove that… She stared down at the time in confusion. [Preliminary site review and project outline w/ Zane Kruger - 3:00 PM] She blinked. Refreshed the page. It said what it said. She would have bet all of the money she had that the appointment was at two. She had checked it before she left. 

But the only two people with access to her calendar were her and Perlah, and neither of them had any reason to change it. Fuck! “It… it appears that I might have been mistaken,” said Claire, each word feeling like acid on her tongue. 

The whole point of taking this job in the first place has been to fearlessly respond to whatever petty mind game Zane had been trying to play, and she had fucked it up instantly by making a basic, unprofessional mistake. “I…” she began, then took a deep, calming breath and got a hold of herself. Mistakes happened. She couldn’t let herself spin out over one minor embarrassment. She was still the better person here, and that’s what would win out in the end. “I apologize for the confusion. Sorry to disturb you. I’ll return in an hour, at the scheduled meeting time,” she said in a clipped, professional voice. 

“What, and sit in your car?” asked Zane with another coarse laugh. “No, that’s no good. Just sit tight for a second. I’ll just finish up and be right down.”

Claire’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Was he really suggesting that she wait while he… “That won’t be necessa…” she began, but by that point, the doorbell had already disconnected. Zane had hung up on her. Claire stood in silent fury for a moment. This entire interaction had thrown her completely off-balance. She was supposed to breeze in and make Zane feel awkward by how cool, calm, and competent she could be. Now she was standing on his doorstep waiting for the fat slug of a man to finish having sex? 

No. She refused. She would just get back in her car and drive back to the office. Tell Perlah the meeting had to be rescheduled. She had already taken a few steps toward her car when she stopped with a grimace of frustration on her face. She was the one who had made the screw-up here. If she had come an hour later, when the meeting was apparently scheduled, Zane would have been ready for the meeting. Leaving now would only make her look more unprofessional. 

She turned stiffly back to the door, boiling with impotent anger while she waited a few long, infuriating minutes for Zane to come down and let her in. 

Finally, the door swung open, and Claire was face to face with Zane for the first time in years. Claire looked down her nose at the scruffy little man with barely concealed contempt. Short and broad, with unpleasantly protruding eyes and thick, greasy blonde hair gathered back into a messy ponytail, Gene certainly wasn’t handsome. It had been a while since Claire had seen him in person. He was maybe even uglier than she remembered, and it surprised her in that moment that even gold diggers would be interested in this repulsive little man. He was wearing a thick burgundy robe that thankfully fully concealed his body. 

“Claire!” exclaimed Zane with a big crooked smile, sticking out a pudgy hand for a handshake. “Long time no see. Glad you could make it so, heh… punctually.” Claire stared at his hand and had to repress an urge to slap it away. This was the worst part of Zane. Not how he looked: people couldn’t help it if they were ugly. No, the problem was his utter, unshakable confidence. Despite looks that would make any reasonable person self-conscious, there was a lurking arrogance behind his eyes. A sense that he thought he was better than everyone he met. 

Claire ignored the hand and instead put on a cold little customer-service smile. “Let’s get straight to business, shall we, Mr. Kruger?” Zane withdrew the offered handshake, but instead of looking annoyed or confused by the slight, a little smirk crossed his face as his hand dropped to his side. Claire’s rage bubbled up inside her. What exactly did he mean by that expression? She felt completely off balance; even when she deliberately snubbed and disrespected him, Zane had somehow found a way to make her feel like she had made an embarrassing mistake. 

Zane turned and gestured her into the house, and wanting nothing more in the world than to get this over with, Claire followed. “As you can see,” said Zane conversationally over his shoulder as he led her through the spacious living room toward the stairs, “A little interior decorating is long overdue.”

Well, Claire couldn’t disagree with him there. Zane had purchased expensive furniture, and clearly had enough money to hire a cleaning service, but his home still gave off the unmistakable air of a bachelor pad. There didn’t seem to be decorations of any kind on the walls or any surface, giving the whole place an odd, lifeless, sterile feeling. Even rental properties had cheap, generic artwork for God’s sake. It made Claire feel a little better as she followed Zane up the stairs. He might think highly of himself, but Zane seemed to have no taste at all when it came to decor. One area, at least, where she was unquestionably superior. 

The improvement in her mood lasted until she entered Zane’s bedroom. The unmistakable smell of sex hung in the air, immediately wrinkling Claire’s nose and turning her stomach. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the woman sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Claire supposed she should have realized that a woman would be here. She had heard a female voice in the background of the intercom after all, and it wasn’t like she would hide or evaporate in the time it took Zane to hustle down the stairs. Zane’s sex partner was a slim, petite woman with wavy light brown hair and sharp blue eyes. She was currently dressed in a skimpy silk robe that showed off a scandalous amount of her lovely crossed legs, and was smoking a cigarette with a look of faint amusement on her cute features. 

As Zane bustled inside, Claire froze in the doorway, nonplussed at suddenly sharing the room with one of Zane’s floozies. Just like Dan had mentioned, this mystery woman was undoubtedly attractive, so she was no doubt one of the gold diggers who flocked around Zane. Not the type of person Claire enjoyed associating with.

“Oh!” said Zane, noticing Claire’s surprise, “Of course. How rude of me. Claire, Ramona. Ramona, Claire.” 

Ramona raised an eyebrow and ashed her cigarette in an ashtray on the bed next to her. “Charmed,” she said in a low, musical voice, her tone utterly insincere.   

“Likewise,” said Claire stonily, her eyes pointedly running up and down Ramona’s state of undress. “I’m guessing that you and Zane… work together?”

Ramona shrugged languidly and blew out a stream of smoke. “In a manner of speaking. I’m his accountant.” 

Claire snorted with amusement at the joke, but neither Zane nor Ramona laughed. “She stopped by to try to convince me that I’m overpaying you,” said Zane, flopping back onto the bed next to Ramona and throwing an arm around her casually. 

Ramona accepted the thick, flabby arm around her waist without apparent discomfort, instead giving Claire a cool, appraising look and saying, “Some of the top designers in the city would do the job for less than what you’re asking.”

Claire glared at the small, sharp-looking woman, bewildered. Was she actually an accountant? Why in God’s name would an attractive professional have sex with Zane? And she was apparently sharp as well: Zane certainly was overpaying for Claire’s services. She didn’t even know how to respond. Everything about this meeting felt like it was going against her. She had planned to sweep in as a powerful, unflappable professional and make Zane feel small. Now, not only had she looked unprofessional, but the quality of her work was being questioned. 

She felt herself blushing and opened her mouth to say something, anything in retort, when, embarrassingly, Zane bailed her out. 

“Shush, Mona,” said Zane with a chuckle, reaching down to give his accountant a little spank on the side of her ass, drawing a giggle from the confident little woman. “Since when has money ever been an issue for me? I know what I like, and I think Claire can give me exactly what I’m looking for.”

Zane’s assistance was even less welcome than Ramona’s disdain. To save herself from having to engage, Claire pointedly turned away, pulled a small notebook from her purse, and sketched some notes as Ramona and Zane whispered and giggled back and forth to each other. Luckily, it seemed like the job would be simple. The room was just a box with one large window, a walk-in closet, and an en-suite bathroom. Nothing particularly notable design-wise, and no architectural quirks to work around. Claire lost herself in the work, eyeballing a few basic measurements, then snapping a few pictures with her phone as references for when she sketched her proposal. She felt some of the embarrassment and frustration ebb away as she went through the motions, and by the time she turned back to her infuriating patron, she felt a bit calmer. 

“I would recommend a sleek modernist redesign,” she said in clipped tones. “That way, the bedroom won’t clash with the rest of your house’s decor… or lack thereof, I suppose. I can sketch a proposal for you by the end of the week and present some artwork options that are within the project’s budget for your approval.” There. All he needed to do was agree, and Claire could get out of here and leave this awkward meeting behind her. 

Zane looked thoughtful, pursing his lips. “Hmph. Well, it’s certainly impressive that you could come up with a plan just like that, but I’m afraid that “sleek modernism” just isn’t what I had in mind.”

Claire gritted her teeth. “Mr. Kruger, in my professional opinion, this plan will…”

Zane cut across her protest in a firm voice. “Yeah, yeah, and I appreciate that, Claire Bear. I do. But I hired you because I thought you had the creative spark to not just make something that looks good, but to design something in the style I want.”

This arrogant little fucker… “Which is?” snapped Claire. 

“Masculine. Powerful,” said Zane, his pale blue eyes boring into Claire’s. “To put it bluntly, I have a lot of guests in this room, Claire. A lot. When a woman walks into this room, I want her to know immediately what kind of man I am. A dominant male. An alpha.”

It might be a little unprofessional, but Claire couldn’t help snort in derision and roll her eyes. “What,” she asked disdainfully, “shall I get started commissioning a ten-foot granite statue of your dick?”

Zane met her mockery with a wide, unapologetic grin. “Let me know if you need reference photos,” he said with a wink. 

Claire flushed red. She had walked right into that one. Mental note: don’t be the first one to bring up sex around this creep. “Zane, you don’t need to hire a decorator if you want to act like a neanderthal. Here: Mounted deer head on the wall there,” she said, pointing with a withering expression and a cocked hip. “Bearskin rug on the floor, yellow warning sign that says ‘bone zone’ above the bed. There, now you look exactly like the type of guy who calls himself an ‘Alpha’. You can have that consultation on the house.”

Zane raised an eyebrow, and Ramona gave Claire a flat, unimpressed glare, crossing one lovely leg over the other. “So you’re saying you can’t do it,” said Zane lightly. 

“I’m saying I’m not interested in doing it,” corrected Claire, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. 

“I get it,” said Zane. “I’ve seen your portfolio. Soulless minimalism; that ‘sleek modernist’ look you tried to sell me. Oh, and breezy, feminine rustic designs. I thought you had the chops to work a little bit outside the box you’ve put yourself in, but hey, if you don’t feel comfortable with that, I completely understand.”

Claire felt her blood boiling. All of the annoyances and frustrations of this trainwreck of a meeting came to a head as that smirking floozy Ramona laughed behind her hand. She opened her mouth, ready to show both of them the error of their ways…

…

Claire sat at her computer, tired, but too annoyed to go to bed. Dan had gone off to sleep ages ago after tiptoeing around her all evening. 

That fucking prick Zane felt like a splinter deep in her mind, constantly irritating her in a way she couldn’t let go. He had made her feel small today, and that was particularly galling from someone so beneath her. 

Currently, she was flipping through social media of various men who identified as “alphas” with an unimpressed sneer on her face, growing more and more annoyed. Some of the men were good-looking, maybe even the majority, at least of the men who were most successful at projecting that image online. 

It wasn’t that Claire found confident, masculine men unattractive. She could definitely see the primal appeal of a rugged man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to push for it. But, even if some of these guys online had a certain animal magnetism, Claire had never considered a partner like that for himself. It felt… dangerous to put all the power in the hands of a romantic partner like that. She much preferred to wear the pants in her relationships. 

And all of that was beside the point anyway. Zane wasn’t an “alpha”, if such a thing even existed. He was a pretender. A wannabe who thought he could toy with his betters. But that was fine. In fact, this assignment would be a perfect chance for Claire to prove that to him. 

Still feeling the thought of Zane’s arrogant eyes throb inside her like a painful splinter, Claire began taking notes, determined to create a design so powerful and masculine that it would make Zane look foolish in comparison every time he stepped into the room. 

…

“You’re going to fuck her aren’t you?” asked Ramona, her voice holding just the trace of a moan as she pumped her slim hips up and down Zane’s cock. “That stuck-up designer… That’s the point of hiring her, right?”

Zane lay back, scrolling through his phone as Ramona claimed her reward for helping out today. He had needed a very particular type of woman from stable to make the perfect impression on Claire, and she had fit the bill perfectly: smart, professional, and gorgeous. The fact that an objectively beautiful accountant had been willing to fuck him had definately planted some important seeds in Claire’s subconscious. 

“Hmm?” he said, eyes flicking upward briefly to where Ramona bounced and whimpered above him. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Why? Feeling a bit jealous? Or just nostalgic for the time when I first  manipulated you into bed?” 

“You fucking bastard…” panted Mona, but her hips just bounced faster, her pussy gripping his cock with needy desire. “You get off on it, don’t you? Dragging women down into the mud…”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” said Zane fondly. He tossed his phone aside and put his hands on the slim accountant’s hips, smoothly taking control. “Do you remember what first got you to fuck me?”

Mona’s eyes glittered down at him, antagonistic, but full of helpless lust as her hips squirmed and writhed down onto his cock.. “I don’t even undertand how you did it,” she admitted breathlessly. “You just acted like an asshole. Always criticizing something about my clothes or my hair. I think I finally just snapped and had to prove you wrong.”

“Your wardrobe has improved a lot since then,” said Zane with a wicked smile. 

“God, it’s fucking humiliating,” gasped Mona, her hips bucking wildly now as the sorts of things Zane made her wear crossed her mind. “I swear half the men in my building stop what they’re doing and just enjoy the show every time I walk by in those tiny fucking skirts you love so much.”

“Maybe you should stop wearing panties,” teased Zane as Ramona neared orgasm. “The wind blows wrong a little and all those men will get a real fucking show.”

“Don’t… God! Don’t fucking jooooke about that, asshooolllle!” moaned Ramona, gasping and grunting as she came all over Zane’s cock, imagining further exhibitionist humiliations. Zane gave it even odds that Mona would actually stop wearing panties: he had really let a kinky bitch off the leash when he corrupted the sassy accountant, and she might not be able to resist.

So, he had managed to win over Ramona by insulting her… Ahhh, negging. An old pick-up artist trick. It wasn’t as broadly useful as some people thought, but for a certain type of proud woman, it could be a great wedge to get your hooks in. Women who assumed they were above Zane just couldn’t stand it when he acted like the opposite was true… and sometimes it could lead them to do desperate things to address that mental imbalance

Maybe a similar approach could work with Claire? But he would have to decide what type of mild criticism would most annoy her… and give him the opportunity to capitalize on the resulting insecurity. 

Option A: Criticize her appearance. Sometimes the classics are classic for a reason. If Claire found her looks disparaged by someone who she considered far less attractive than herself, it might make her feel like she had something to prove.

Option B: Criticize her skills. Claire prided herself on her design abilities and her business. If Zane was able to convincingly criticize her design proposal, it would cut her deeply and make her subconsciously even more determined to prove her worth to Zane. 

Option C: Criticize her taste in men. Zane had done his research. Claire had a type: kind, mild-mannered underachievers who she could walk right over. Even before boring old Dan, her previous boyfriends all fit the same description. It was obvious to Zane that Claire always played it safe romantically. And maybe it would be useful to press her on that point.