Broken

Chapter 35: Friction and confessions

Fatima was dressed in a striking ensemble: a sleek black leather crop blazer paired with a matching high-waisted leather mini skirt that hugged her curves. Her legs were adorned with sheer, patterned tights that added a subtle touch of elegance to the bold look. Completing the outfit were black ankle boots with a distinctive YSL heel, exuding a sense of power and sophistication. Her hair, straight and flowing, added an air of effortless confidence.

As she put away a few files in her office, the atmosphere was interrupted by Abby, who walked in hurriedly. "Mr. Brandon is outside insisting on speaking to you. Should I let-"

"Send him in," Fatima cut her off, her tone leaving no room for further discussion. Abby nodded and quickly exited, allowing Brandon to enter shortly after, his frustration palpable.

"Fatima Wilson," he snapped, his irritation clear.

"Good afternoon to you too, Brandon," Fatima responded, turning to him as she finished putting the files away.

"I have bad, bad news-" he began, his voice tense.

"Oh God," Fatima groaned, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Can we not discuss that right now? I'm happy." A smile crept onto her face as she recalled her morning with Zac.

Brandon scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Let me guess, you left the gala to go be with that imbecile Zachary Taylor," he accused.

"Yes, I did. And don't call him an imbecile," Fatima replied sternly, her eyes narrowing at Brandon.

Brandon shook his head again, frustration mixing with disbelief as he watched her relax back into her chair, her happiness almost tangible. "Do you want to know what it is or not?" he pressed.

Fatima pursed her lips, as if contemplating, before leaning forward slightly. "No. I don't. Whatever it is, fix it yourself-"

"I can't because you're the only one that can," Brandon interrupted, his voice strained with barely contained frustration.

Fatima groaned, realizing the seriousness of his tone. "What is it?" she asked, her patience wearing thin.

"We lost the deal with the mayor," Brandon revealed, his tone heavy with disappointment.

"What?" Fatima frowned, her mind immediately racing.

"Yes, Fatima!" Brandon groaned, his frustration bubbling over. "But how?" she asked, still trying to process the information.

Brandon paced the room before turning to her. "You left, Fatima! You're slacking, and it's all that idiot's fault! You're too busy riding his dick that you're not even considering the fact that maybe he's making you weak," he accused, his tone harsh.

"You better watch your tone and language with me, Brandon!" she snapped, standing up and pointing a stern finger at him, her presence commanding and fierce.

"I left you and Daniel in charge. The two of you were supposed to secure the deal-my God, can't y'all do anything right without me?" she lashed out, her frustration evident as she raised her voice. "Why the fuck couldn't you two do one fucking thing, huh? I do everything, all the fucking time! I gave y'all one job!" she yelled, holding up her index finger, the weight of her words heavy in the air.

Brandon sighed, shaking his head, clearly defeated. "What are we going to do?" he asked, looking to her for a solution.

"Give me a minute," she said sternly, already formulating possibilities and ideas in her mind.

Brandon shook his head again, his frustration still simmering. "If you hadn't gone to Zachary Taylor, we would've had that deal."

Fatima shot him a glare, her annoyance clear. "Can you not," she said, coming around her desk, her patience wearing thin.