Few minutes ago, I was being thrown over the shoulder by the not-so-incredible Hulk and now, I was sitting in a chair in Mr. Miller's office, getting stared at by the man himself. I didn't know which one unnerved me more. He was leaning against the table, his arms folded against his chest while his tall stature towered over me.
"Ehm." He cleared his throat, making me look straight into his eyes- his dark, cold and mysterious eyes. "Why did he send you here?"
"Who?"
"Your father. Woods." he said, a subtle hint of familiarity in his voice.
"Uh... I don't know." I said.
"What do you mean you don't know?" He lowered himself so he was at my level, his eyes looking deep into mine, as if looking straight into my soul.
"I wish I could ask him." I whispered.
"Why can't you?." He whispered back.
"Because he is dead." I said and his mouth parted open.
For some thirty seconds, I saw grief in his dark eyes, pure unhinged grief. But it took him less than a minute to compose himself. Once he did, he walked over to the other side of the table and sat down on his chair. Loosening his tie, he wiped his face with the handkerchief in his pocket and then took a huge gulp from the glass of water sitting on the table. Once again, he turned back to the same cold man I had witnessed earlier, with no hint of emotions showing on his face.
"When?" He asked.
"A month ago." I replied. "He was shot in our house." Some lines appeared on his forehead, shadowing his inner turmoil but this time, he didn't let his demeanour shift.
"And what brings you here?" He asked.
"This." I said and pulled out the piece of paper from my bag which I gave to him.
It was a piece of newspaper tucked away beneath my father's bed in his room. After his death, I didn't go to his room until three days back and that's when I found this. The newspaper was filled with his blood, which indicated that he hid this while he was trying to fight for his last breath. The newspaper was many months old, which meant he had saved it for some reason. On the bottom corner of the paper, there was a segment about Sean Miller, the famous Chicago businessman and a circle was made around his name with a blue markle. It wasn't the circle that had caused me to come here: it was the four letters written on top of it in my father's handwriting- F I N D.
"Now the question is, how did my father, an ordinary high school teacher from Florida, know Sean Miller, the business magnate from Chicago?" I asked. His silence indicated that he didn't know how to answer my question.
"You need to go with me." He said.
"Where?" I asked.
"To my house." He said curtly.
"What? Why? I am not going with you anywhere. For all I know, you could have been involved in his murder." I said, standing up in my defense.
"I'll explain everything on our way." He said.
"Not a chance in hell am I leaving with you. Mary was right, coming here is a mistake." I said and walked over to the door to leave. But before I could take a step outside, he motioned something to the same security guard who once again picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" I screamed. "Where are you taking me?"
The Thomas guy followed Mr. Miller to what looked like a private elevator, ignoring my pleas or my punches against his back. I screamed profanities at Miller but he kept standing at the other corner of the elevator.
"I swear to God, just let me down or I'll- I'll make you do it my way." I punched Thomas's back but it had no effect on him. My red locks were all sprawled in front of my eyes as I tried to peek at Mr. Miller through it with a pleading look.
The elevator led to some sort of secret parking lot where three limos were parked. Mr. Miller walked over to the first limo parked. A driver walked over to us and opened the door for him, not noticing the one hundred and thirty pounds woman being manhandled. Miller shifted inside and then I was pushed inside as well, followed by Thomas. How did Thomas fit his 6'8" self in here? Then again, it was a Limo for God's sake.
"What the hell is wrong with you? You can't take me with you forcefully." I screamed at Mr. Miller's emotionless face. I tried to leave the car but I was sandwiched between the Hulk and the cold stone.
"I haven't forced you to do anything, Miss. Woods," he said. "Yet."
"M***********" I cursed under my breath as he motioned the driver and he started driving.
Once the car was on the road, he turned towards me. I tried to maintain my composure but the truth was, Mr. Miller was one handsome son of a bitch. One couldn't simply ignore him when he was staring deep into your soul.
"I'm trying to protect you, woman." He said.
"Protect me? From what?" I yelled.
"From whatever that killed your father." He said.
"They were robbers." I said.
A sarcastic smile appeared on his face. "Is that what the police said?" I nodded and he looked at me as if I was kidding.
"My father didn't have any enemies. He taught Maths in a high school for God's sake. Are you trying to tell me that it was a well-planned murder?" I said.
"Don't stress this little brain of yours, Mia Cara. Ignorance is a bliss." He said and faced the front, much to my exasperation.
"My name is Penelope, not Mia." I groaned.
"Of course it is." He said. Once I knew there was no point in arguing with him, I hugged and leaned back in my seat.
°°°
"Don't. I can walk." I sneered at Thomas who was ready to drag me out of the car.
The car had stopped inside what looked like a mansion inside a private property. Between the front gate of the property and the gate guarding the mansion, there were many miles of greenery stretched. The whole area belonged to him so there was no point in running.
Giving a glare to Mr. Miller, I slid outside the limo. The mansion stretched across a few acres, leaving a lawn double its size around it. The exterior was painted in white and beige hues, giving it a royal look. I know Mr. Miller must be rich, but rich enough to afford a land like this, in a big city like Chicago. Yikes.
As we walked through the door, I was taken to a corner by a woman who gave me a head to toe check for any kind of weapon. After that, I followed Miller to the huge hall of the mansion, from where two sets of massive stairs lead upwards.
"Since when did you start bringing your side chicks home?" A voice said. I turned to the source of the voice, who happened to be another man of his height and built, sprawled over a mahogany couch, cleaning what looked like a- A gun. Oh God! Noticing how my eyes were locked on the silver object, he put it back in his pocket.
"Why does he have a gun?" I said to Mr. Miller.
"Security purposes." He said and then turned to answer that guy. "She is Wood's daughter, Lucas."
"What?" The guy stood up and stared at me from head to toe. He looked like a younger, more chiseled version of Mr. Miller. He had similar dark eyes and similar dark locks, but the signature beard was missing.
The guy followed Miller to an adjoining room. I wanted to follow them and I even took a step but a steel rod suddenly appeared in front of my stomach, stopping me. It wasn't a steel rod per se, it was Thomas's arm but there wasn't much difference.
"Fine, big guy." I huffed and sat down on the couch, waiting for them to discuss whatever they want and then let me leave the hell out of this place.
°°°
YOU ARE READING
The Mysterious Mr. Miller
Mystery / Thriller"Why can't you let me go?" I asked, my voice dripping with frustration. He had cornered me against the wall, his muscular arms caging me. "I don't know." He replied, leaning his head against me so gently that for a moment, I forgot how dangerous th...
