𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞

Chapter Thirteen

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"Pete, am I a swine?

"Sir," Pete said, confusion marring his face as he looked at Matthew through the rearview mirror.

"Am I a swine?" he repeated.

"No, sir."

"Then why did she call me a swine?" Pete shook his head a little, wondering whether there was a correct answer to this question.

"Who did, sir?"

"The one with the brown eyes,"

Pete's eyes twitched, and then he looked at him again through the mirror.

"Brenda?"

Matthew's shocked face should have been comical if Pete knew what the hell was happening to his employer.

"Who the hell is Brenda?"

"She is the tea girl on the third floor."

"Yeah, why would a tea girl call me a swine?"

Pete looked uncomfortable as he stopped the car in traffic. He didn't know what to say or do, but he hoped this conversation could be over soon before he said something untoward.

"I presume she has brown eyes too?"

Pete nodded, clearing his throat.

"Do they look like a deep hue of chocolate?"

"No. I've always thought they looked like mud." Matthew's lips twitched with a smile, bobbing his head while peering outside, feeling the weight of the last few hours. Remembering Imani's hurt face, the shimmer of tears deep in her eyes, the way she'd proudly stood up for herself.

"She didn't just call me a swine; she called me an arrogant swine."

"Who, sir?" Pete asked after hearing the regret in his employer's voice.

He shook his head, leaning his back on the seat.

"Do you mean Imani?"

"You know her real name?"  Matthew snapped his eyes open, fixing them on Pete, glaring warningly at him to start talking.

"Yes,"

"How do you know?" there was urgency in his voice.

"I thought you would ask me to look into her like you did the previous one, but when you didn't ask, I decided not to."

"What do you know?"

"Just the name, I saw it when you sent me for the roti. The manager had stepped out, leaving the computer screen on"

"What's her name?" Matthew asked, filled with eagerness to know.

"Imani Elizabeth Stiles."

Matthew breathed out, restraining from asking Pete to find out more.

"Do you want me to find out the rest?"

"No, no, not yet."

He had made a promise, and he would keep it unless she disappeared. Matthew had no intention of keeping away from her.

He had messed up, sure.

Hurt her, yes.

But there was no way in hell he could keep away from her.

He wanted her, not just her body, although the thought of it kept him awake most of the night, but her humour too—the way she made him laugh—her flair for the dramatic, which he now understood might be from telling bedtime stories.