**Celia Bennett's POV: **
Well, so far, my afternoon has been continuing on like any other day. In fact, it was even more dreary than what I was used to. That was all until my father called me while I was working on composing an introductory speech for him for a conference he would be hosting later in the month.
"Celia, would you kindly come in here please?" My father's voice spoke out from the speaker on my desk phone.
"I will be there momentarily," I said, coming to a stopping point and saving the draft before I stood up.
One thing about this short conversation bothered me a bit. When my father spoke just now, his voice rang out a bit more excited than usual. What was going on? Why was he excited to see me come into his office? What had him in such a good mood like this? I have not known many things to make him this cheery, well, other than getting a hole in one when he played golf with his buddies.
"Yes, Sir?" I asked when I entered the open doorway to his office and inside, were several men standing around the center of the room.
This was not all that uncommon. However, the thing that made it a bit unnerving was that all conversation ceased when I walked into view, as well as because all eyes were silently staring at me. I looked at each of them, some had furrowed expressions and when I looked at my father, he looked around nervously before he spoke.
"Yes, my dear, I am glad that you could join us," he said, taking a few steps toward me. He gestured for me to come closer, so I walked a few steps before he gently grabbed me by my elbows. "I have someone I would like you to meet."
His voice was nervous, almost agitated this time, almost as if there was something he was afraid of, but was still trying to act cheery about it. I looked at him when I whispered, "What is going on?"
That is when I heard someone else speak who was standing behind him, as their accented voice said, "Well, she is much prettier than you previously described. Nicely featured as well."
There was something about the way he said that, that did not set right with me. It even made my skin start to crawl as I placed my arms behind my back and proceeded to rub my arms as the hair was now standing on their end. I finally looked at my father and asked, "Would you like to tell me what I can do for you, Sir?"
I asked that in a very professional manner when I looked right at my father. The reactions I got from the men standing around the room were not what you would have expected. They acted as if I said something to the complete opposite effect, and quite disrespectful in deed.
"What my daughter means to say is, she is asking about our little meeting here fellas, that's all, nothing more to it than that," he said, turning around and gesturing for me to follow him to his desk.
I was not sure what to think. Why would they think that by me doing my job and responding accordingly, that it could somehow be considered disrespectful? I did not know how to take their expressions or reactions just now. When I stood in my usual place at the side of my father's desk, two of the older men took a seat opposite him while a younger man stood there between them. They started speaking together using a different language and spoke softly so that I could not make it out.
I did take foreign languages in college, so I could make out a few words. However, three words rang out, and I wondered what they could mean: proposal, enslavement and contract. I could not believe the words I heard. I actually grabbed my chest as I felt a deep, cold sensation, almost like I was stabbed by a frozen knife. Who were they talking about? They wouldn't be talking about me, could they? Why talk about something else during a meeting that was not pertinent to being there?
"Now fellas," my father said, breaking my concentration, which also stopped them in the middle of their conversation as well. "I would like to propose that you create that, whatever it is that you need to write up and send it over to my office for further discussion."
I looked on in shock as they looked and agreed among themselves before they stood up to their feet, where my father did the same. Then, in more shock, as I was still holding tight to my chest, they shook hands right in front of me. What was my father doing? Did he sign my life away, or better yet, was he about to? Was I going to have a say over this even?! What was going on here?!
They relaxed their grip as my father leaned over and held firm to the edge of his desk as they turned and walked toward the door. I could not help but notice the one younger man who stood between the two sitting down was eye-balling me the entire time. I, myself, tried not to look at him but when he got to the door, without saying a word, he turned around to look directly at me.
This time he saw me look right at him, and he even blew me a kiss. I shuddered when I turned to look at my father in shock as I tried to say something. My father raised one finger to get me to stay quiet when he whispered, "Nope, go and close the door first."
I scoffed when I huffed, turning around and heading toward the door. When I reached the door, I looked outside into the hall and, sure enough, they were gone and out of sight. I then stepped back, grabbing firm of the handle and closing it lightly when I turned around and huffed, "What the Hell was that about!?!"
His look alone was enough to put me in my place when he said, "Watch your tone with me, young lady."
"Father, let's be real about this," I said, changing my tone to a calmer tone but one of confusion and trying to get back on his good side. "Please tell me, what that was all about." I paused a moment as he took a seat and even sighed as he pinched the bridge between his eyes and turned his chair to the side.
I walked around the side of his desk once more when I asked, "Father, you know that I took the study of foreign languages in college. Tell me why I heard a few frightening terms come out of their mouths. What are you not telling me?"
"I have something I need to tell you child," he said at first.
"Why are you talking like that?" I asked, now seriously concerned about him calling me child, when he hadn't done that since I was in my single digit years. "Why were they talking about some kind of proposal and what about this contract? What contract are they referring to?"
"Those men, they were the owners of The Apple Grim," he said before he took a brief pause and, this time, looked away from me completely.
"Yeah and what has that got to do with me?" I asked, as I did not care for his sudden delay in responding to me just now.
He turned to look at me, when he reached out and lightly grasped me by both of my hands and said, "Your going to..."