Category : Stories

Sub Category : Suspense/Mystery

"But why? " I asked the older guy sitting in front of me for like the fourth time. "Why would you do such thing?"
The older man looked up at me from his many papers with a completely dumb and outrightly confused expression. If I hadn't known any better,  I would have fallen for his trick of a lost person but this was Leonardo Powell I'm talking about, CEO of Powell X-Press and one if the multi millionaires around the world . The disgustingly handsome CEO was well known for his playboy ways and workalcoholic hours. From his cleanly laid back midnight hair to his  business suit and the take-no-shit attitude,  he was every woman's ideal dream man of a husband what with him having the body of a well grown retired model. Every thing about him seemed perfect but never let your feelings get you carried away simply by the appearance and never even bother to check out the obvious danger. To most, Mr Powell's blue eyes were like the colour of beach water on a beautiful day.  To me, it was a deadly warning to up and run for the hills the minute he gets close for you to see those blue eyes that had so often creeped me out. They seemed to be the kind of sharp ice crystal kind of eyes, piercing into your soul when he looks at you like as if he were trying to dig out the real information from your heart to why you had to meet him. Whenever he looked at me when he barks out commands for me to take, I get a really uncomfortable feeling down to my gut and want to yell in fear. Like now. Sitting in his glamorous heaven of an office with expensive seats that had a mega HUGE plasma TV on one side of the wall, I was squirming uncomfortably in my seat , which squeaked in process of my weight shifting.
"Why what?" He asked in a bored voice.
"Why did you have to kill her? "I asked. Mr Powell blinked once- like as if he needed to since he barely blinks when I'm around which is weird. Twice. " May I ask who-"
"Vanessa . The girl you killed- or murdered should I say- out of act of blind anger."
Mr Powell looked slightly surprised then quickly covered it. " Oh. You mean that model bitch who used to work here? " He asked , acting like as if Vanessa had never been his supermodel he had praised for twelve years; the girl who had kept money coming into the business weekly. I suspressed my urge to roll my eyes at his last sentence.  Duh. Who else would have I come into this gloomy, creepy office to talk about if I needed information to do my job as an undercover agent for the company I work for UMA (Undercover Mission Agents )- not that he would know of by the way- under the pretence as Mr Powell's personal secretary, who was assigned to act as a big mouthed secretary who loved gossip? Vanessa Thomas. Who else?