Dead Heart [2]

Chapter 5

Theodore's P.O.V.  

I cuffed the buttons of my shirt and pierced the hand links in their places. It was a white shirt with black designer buttons with printed panther on its small pocket, highlighting the power of Bradford Corp.

It was the logo of our company since the time I took the position as CEO. It was almost eight in morning when I was going through the board files for the third time. I sighed and put away the file, grasping my discarded work out shorts.

I threw them away in the basket nicely before shutting the door of bathroom. It was a four bedroom complex in an unpopular building of  New York, where I was living since months now.

Few kilometers away from my own house.

This was because of a certain stubborn woman who was as essentric to get the meaning of the word 'free'.

I curled my fists as someone knocked loudly, disturbing the peaceful silence of my room. I picked up the pillow and hurled it at the bed before shouting a loud, 

"Come in,"

I narrowed my gaze as a profusely sweating Richard entered my flat with his official attire. My face went blank and emotionless as he looked up at me with eyes full of doubt and fear.

"Good morning, Mr. Bradford." He muttered, clutching his file with one hand and rubbing his neck with the other.

"Doesn't seem like a good morning, Richard. Why are you rubbing your neck like a woman?" I mocked, picking up the glass of milk kept since one hour. 

I gulped down and wiped the corners of my lips with the tissue before sending a glare at the way of mute Richard.

"Speak or leave," I spoke and walked away to the study room.

I internally sighed annoyingly as he followed after me with his silent, dreadful steps.

"Do you want me to fire you?" I asked in a composed, cold and emotionless voice. He gulped and pulled out something from his pocket with his shaking hand.

I clenched my jaw, knowing very well what he was about to show. He could not possibly think that I didn't know about it already. Almost everything reaches my ears just after it happens.

"I–I met Mrs. Bradford yesterday, sir." He stuttered, stating the obvious. 

I picked up the glass triangle and rotated it in my hand, thinking upon what to do further.

"It was purely unintentional, Mr. Bradford sir." He reasoned, even when I didn't ask for any explanation. 

This thought was roaming inside my head since last night when I saw a photo taken of him and her in a restaurant. Unluckily, I could only receive the information that they met. The events that took place after, were still needed to be known.

I clicked my tongue and looked up sharply at him, narrowing my gaze.

"How do I," I stopped, " believe you, Richard?"

He exhaled, sighing and clenched his hand. Sometimes, it feels hard to understand this man. He fears me but shows the guts to argue with me. What exactly does he feel? Fear or confidence? 

"Abira knows Mrs. Bradford and that's wh—"

"Your wife knows her how?" I cut him off, sharply.

"Mrs. Bra—" 

"Stop with this word. Call her Ms. King," I glared at him, cutting him off again.

"Yes," He gulped, "She saved Abira from some drunkards one day."