Broken

Chapter 38: Fatima Garcia

After Fatima's encounter with Denzel, she storms down the passageway, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. "Hold all my calls," she tells Abby with a clipped tone, not slowing her pace. Abby nods, sensing the tension in Fatima's voice.

Fatima pushes open the door to her office, and her eyes immediately land on Brandon standing in the middle of the room. She groans, running a hand down her face in frustration. "My God, Brandon, I just saw you, now I'm seeing you again! For fuck's sake, don't you get tired of working my nerves?"

Brandon scoffs, shaking his head. "Ever since you've been with Zachary Taylor, it's like you don't care about this company anymore," he says, his voice stern and accusatory.

Fatima exhales, her patience wearing thin. She places her Prada bag down on the table and walks around her desk, folding her arms across her chest. Her outfit is striking—she wears a fitted cream YAGI WRLD Yoko top, paired with wide-leg Bershka trousers that give her an effortlessly elegant look. Her gold knot heels from PLT gleam as they catch the light, adding a bold touch to her sophisticated appearance. Gold jewelry adorns her wrists and fingers, understated yet commanding attention.

Brandon's eyes scan her outfit as if it's a reflection of her current disinterest, but Fatima raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "What now?" she asks, her voice tinged with irritation.

Before Brandon can respond, Fatima cuts him off. "Did you know my father came looking for me?" she asks, her tone sharp, watching his reaction closely.

Brandon raises an eyebrow. "No, I did not. But I assume he had a reason—"

"Like what?" she challenges, leaning slightly forward, her arms still crossed.

Brandon frowns, shrugging casually. "It's really strange," she continues, her voice lowering as if speaking more to herself. "I come in at whatever time I please. So how did he know I'd be here?"

Brandon glances at her, the answer slipping out nonchalantly, as if it should be obvious. "Your father is everywhere, you know this."

Fatima's eyes narrow at his response, the weight of his words settling in a way she didn't appreciate. She looks at him, giving him a pointed, almost wary look. Brandon's nonchalance irks her, but she keeps her expression neutral. Finally, after a pause, she nods, her lips pressing together. "I guess you're right," she mutters lowly, studying his body language, her instincts tingling.

For a moment, the tension in the room shifts. Brandon's casual demeanor, contrasted with her wariness, hangs in the air.

"Now, back to the issue at hand," Brandon says, his tone returning to business. "I have Daniel setting up a few press reports for you."

Fatima nods, her expression shifting to one of focus. "Good. I need those handled with precision. No mistakes."

Brandon folds his arms and continues, "I also think we should prepare for any potential fallout with the mayor's office. It's still tense after that last deal didn't go through."

Fatima sighs, her mind still half on Denzel, but she nods again. "Fine. Keep me updated on anything else that comes up. And, Brandon—" she pauses, looking him dead in the eye, "—no more surprises."

Brandon meets her gaze with a slight smirk. "You know I don't do surprises, Fatima."

She narrows her eyes at him, then gestures toward the door. "Go. I have things to handle."

Without another word, Brandon turns and leaves, but not before giving her a lingering glance, as if still trying to gauge what's truly on her mind.

Fatima calls Abby into her office, her fingers lightly drumming on the desk. Abby walks in, notepad in hand, and asks, "What do you need, Ms. Wilson?"