YOURS, JANNAH

#EIGHTEEN

Adnan close the glass walls with something foggy by touching a button adjacent to the door so the people outside won't see what's going on inside. Jannah was impressed but she is more focused on looking around the office now. Typically cliché office of billionaires you see on Pinterest. Dark, enigmatic and entirely mysterious like the Delphian with her presently.

A huge possum oak desk sat just few feet away from the floor to ceiling glass wall that is warranting vigorous rays of sun to cascade promptly into the room. A head chair behind the desk and two in front of him looking similar but you'll know who the boss is without seeing the chairs. His table is neat with a blueprint in front, he's clearly been working on it before the meeting. A few folders stack by the side, sheaves of paper arranged adroitly, his MacBook, an ashtray with pack of cigarette by the side —she does not know what that is though, too elegant to be toxic.

Adnan's office temperature resembled that of an industrial freezer. Everything was neat, minimal, organized, and silver-chrome. Clinical and deliberately unnerving to suit the man that dominates it. Everything in the room is exactly him, cryptic and ambiguous.

She went to sit down at the same time with him on the head chair, he stared down at her with that irritating brow aloof. Jannah gave him an angelic beam and since she is smaller than him, she easily fit into the seat before he could. He narrowed his eyes at her but she looked away and decided to swirl around on the chair while giggling. Reluctantly he went to sit opposite her.

"Why are you here?" He asked playing around with a lighter —The Ligne 2 Champagne lighter, part of Dupont's Prestige Collection— in his hand unconsciously.

Jannah tightened her lips. She's almost forgotten why she was there in the first place. She opened her bag and brought out his platinum credit card. His eyes settled on his American Express Centurion Card, he didn't see any alert. Or maybe because he is not in charge of that, Bakri Khaled would see it and will call him to—

His phone rang from his suit pocket, he extracted it and checked the caller ID only to let out a satirical smile, the man in his head. He refused to answer though, place the phone on the table and lean his back supinely on the chair. It's so uncomfortable and so not his leather executive swivel chair, she should get the hell out of his office right now.

He is not one to invite people to his office talk less of them sitting down on his executive head seat. No one has ever done that if he could recall properly. But she is comfortably turning around on it like a bairn, Imara wouldn't do that. Or she would. His phone rang again on the table, vibrating and blinking furiously like his temper. Not answered still.

Slipping his hand into his pocket to remove the JP Morgan Chase Palladium Card he made for Jannah and made sure to inundate it with lots of cash, he stopped abruptly when she leaped and took his phone as it rang again indignantly between them. He raised a brow —something he's been doing lately around her— and watch as she touched the green button that accept is written in capital letters.

She tentatively placed the phone to her ear only to shriek and drop it on the table. Adnan's instinct immediately rise but he didn't stand up, just sat there and watch her for a few seconds to see what happened. The person on the other end is still speaking, a cacophony he wants to bring a cessation to. That should be Bakri though, why did she shriek like a banshee?

Not used to hearing a man's voice or something?

Her heart still skyrocketing in her chest, Jannah leaned forward to tap speaker on the phone so Adnan could hear how this so called Bakri Khaled CFO is screeching like an owl. He's got a deep voice but right now, it's strident and creepy. Or maybe Adnan is more into these type of people that shout? She's got a throaty voice, if she shouts, it'll be the end for all of them.