Paint Me Claimed - Book 2

16 | What's mine would always be mine

Leonardo

When I went to meet Zemire at her office, little did I know that she would get me jealous.

It all began in the morning when Amara nagged me again to seek therapy. "It would help you a lot," she said. "You just have to take the first step."

I never wanted to open up again, especially to a stranger.

I expected Amara to convince me some more but since Faizy's unexpected visit last night, she seemed to be on edge.

Truth be told, Amara's been on the edge ever since our move to New York. The reality that her deadbeat husband was trying to brainwash her son, coupled with the fact that she was unavailable during the time Faizy attempted suicide due to severe bullying at school wasn't making for a good custody case for her divorce.

Since she didn't want to talk about her problems but rather focus on mine, I decided to not pay heed to her request. Amara stormed out of my apartment, cussing and thumping her feet to make her point. 

So when my nagging physiotherapy instructor went, I decided to surprise Zemira at her office.

Given that our first date what a disaster, although Zem considered it to be the best date she ever had, I wanted to make up for the promise of a good time. It was the least I could do.

Before my mission, I screwed up our relationship by not telling her what I truly felt for her. I couldn't make the same mistakes again. Every time I remembered Zem's depression and her attempted suicide, I felt guilty. 

I wanted to ensure that any decision I took was for our good. Any decision that affected us. And that included talking about my mission and the past.

~

Although a temporary setup till the new Ford Hotel became fully functional, Zem's office was still in a posh location.

Buzzing with honks, the gritty soot from vehicle emission and the wide sidewalk that narrowed with the oncoming swarm of officer-goers; the city greeted me.

I made way for Zemira's office located on the seventeenth floor of a building.

The elevator - a transparent structure carried me along with people wearing crisp shirts and blazers with their eyes trained on the phone. In contrast, I wore a red and black checker shirt and jeans. 

Those people didn't look up from their phones till their floor was announced. I kept staring at the display screen revealing each floor and the office situated therein.

By the time I walked out of the elevator onto my designated floor, a constant hum in my ears grew louder. Cooled air hit my body and pricked my skin.

The receptionist -- a girl with raven-colored air who smiled while texting -- didn't look up when I arrived. I stood in front of her desk when she noticed my reflection on her glass-top desk.

"Hello, Sir. How may I help you?"

She looked young, like someone who left her teenage phase just yesterday. Her head remained stooped over her chest as she tapped at her phone and stifled a smile.

I cleared my throat. It was like clapping in front of an animal that didn't want to give its attention.

"Miss..." I began. "I'm here to see Zemira. Could you please let me know where her office is?"