𝐅𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 [𝟏𝟖+]

09

I'm so sorry for the late update lmao

Just for clarification, Cyrus' pov will be written in 3rd person.

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Pressing the volume button instinctively, I rose to my feet, pretending to search for a non-existent lost piece of jewelry, seeing no point in hiding behind a machine anymore.

"Ears burning, Mrs. Faerber?" Kate's tone dripped with abhorrence.

Voluminous red hair framed her face in sleek waves, stopping just below her shoulders. Her petite, lean frame in a white top tucked into a pair of black thigh-high shorts, black blazer, and black boots should have looked so out of place. But she looked stunning, awe-inspiring, and confident. So confident. One look at the woman and one could say she had absolute zero fucks to give about the world's opinion. Very few women were comfortable in their skin and rebellious in their dressing style. Katrina Evans was definitely one of them.

Self-assuring myself that her reason for hatred was probably my engagement to Romeo — since Hayden was Romeo's nemesis — I smiled at her. "Miss Halifax. Or call me Corrine." Casting my gaze on the floor, I informed her, "I'm searching for my lost bracelet. I wasn't eavesdropping."

"And I'm not complaining." Her sarcastic tone didn't go unheard. Throwing her husband a glare, she exited the room, her furious hair bouncing in elegant waves. Ahh, she had a quick temper, arrogance, and a baggage of sarcasm. wonderful. 

My eyes drifted to the business titan. He just stalled in his place, eyes scrutinizing me. His tall frame was impeccably dressed in a sharp business suit that emphasized his green eyes, and his chestnut hair was slicked back, effortlessly grooming a business look. But the most obvious thing about him was the air of danger. It almost felt tangible even if he just stood there.

My stomach jarred ominously. Unable to stay in his gaze, I apologized, "I'm sorry, Mr. Evans, I wasn't—"

"No problem." He gave me a cordial expression, and I bolted out of the room without a response. My mind brimming with questions.

Who was she? Why couldn't I remember? We weren't strangers, were we? Why did she say I was her nightmare?

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I wasn't an astrologer and was just as superstitious as my door knob. Yet, I had thanked every fucking star in the sky last night when Mason — lapdog no.1 — had given me two good news:

     1. Romeo's shipments from Asia to the UK had accidentally caught fire, resulting in a huge loss. Rumor had it was foul play, which means his life could be in danger too, so Marcus — lapdog no. 2 — was guarding him.

     2. Mason, who had stayed behind to watch me, had somehow lost his footing on the stairs and fractured his leg.

In any case, Mason's misfortune wasn't what made me happy, but his inability to walk and follow me around. How ironic of his fractured leg setting me free, at least for a few days. And for the first time in weeks, I drove my car to the office. To say it had felt exhilarating to sit behind the wheel and drive the beast of a vehicle would be an understatement. I loved the feeling as much as I missed it. The freedom.

Unquestionably, it was short-lived, but the taste of freedom after weeks was rhapsodic. I wasn't willing to be fettered again. Hoping to find some dirt on him, I had planted bugs in Mason's apartment, which was opposite mine. I didn't know why, but I was very sure that I would find something — anything that could be his weak point. When the time was right, I would explode that weak point. I was nobody's rag doll. And I was definitely no damsel in distress.