Frost

Chapter One

Before you start reading this chapter:

Special thanks to  @averox for her unique cover design! 

Also, special thanks to @Hiba_Shams for her special support.

Finally, special thanks to you all for passing by and reading -Frost-!

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"Oh, you filthy piece of metal! Take this, and that!" screamed a red-headed young woman at her rusty typing machine while showering it with violent blows. A moment later, she heard the phone ringing and decided to ignore it, but it rang incessantly as if it were not ever going to stop.

"Ugh! Stupid phone! What is the problem with these stupid devices today?" she bellowed while hurrying to the phone. When she finally reached it, the phone stopped ringing. She was about to give another angry complaint when the doorbell rang.

"Miss Frost, it is me, Mr Dillingham. Will you please open the door? It is urgent!" said the visitor from outside.

You may wonder why Mr Dillingham had to go through the trouble of introducing himself as well as the importance of his purpose of dropping by when ringing the doorbell could have possibly been more than enough. The answer to this is that you, my lucky friend, have never come across Miss Elizabeth Frost before. She was not the type of person who would bother socializing or mingling with people if she were not in the mood to do so (as she mostly was). Eventually, the people around her somehow got used to her negative social attitude, and so they usually tried to avoid bothering her unless there was a seriously urgent matter to be discussed. Her character was desperately unusual; at least that's what her colleagues at work thought, for, besides her anti-socialism, she was obsessed with perfection in all aspects of her life.

"I'm on my way. Just give me a minute, Mr Dillingham," she said.

Since 'Miss Accurate' was one of her many names, it was expected that Miss Frost would open the door precisely after sixty seconds.

"Good to see you again, Miss Frost. May I please come in?" said Mr Dillingham with a tinge of vexation in his voice after she finally opened the door.

"Oh, please, do be my guest," she said, feigning amicability.

"Why, thank you," he replied with a smile, which he thought was a charming one. This was due to his self-confidence around ladies, for Mr Robert Dillingham was a smart-looking, handsome young man of about thirty with silky brown hair, sea-blue coloured eyes, and a well-built body, and at that time, such a physical appearance was enough to attract the fairer gender.

"Make yourself at home," said Miss Frost through gritted teeth as he entered the house. She led him to a lovely terrace that overlooked a nearby lake, and as regretful as she was for receiving him in this special place, it was the only alternative she had to keep him away from her carefully cleaned house. "Would you like to join me for tea?" she asked.

"I would love to," he said to her dismay.

"Splendid!" She gave him her best fake smile, and he pretended to believe it.

While she was busy pouring the boiling water into the teapot in preparation for their teatime, Mr Dillingham kept staring at a large painting hanging on the wall of the living room through the open terrace doors. The painting seemed nothing more than a hideous mess to him, but he preferred to keep it to himself. In other words, he decided not to be so straightforward in giving his opinion about it, so instead, he said, "Oh, what a wonderful painting that is! I am truly amazed, for I had no knowledge of your unique taste in art!"

She remained silent for a minute or two, staring at the painting blankly. Then she finally said while trying as hard as she could to maintain that silly smile on her face, "Wonderful, you say? I have never thought so. In fact, I deeply loathe that painting! It is nothing but a repulsive piece of hideous mess to me! I haven't the slightest idea what were the people who gifted it to me thinking."

That must have been harsh on Mr Dillingham. For a handsome man like him, he could have at least expected more than to be offended in such a situation, considering the fact that he was used to being admired by most of the ladies he met. He was an active journalist in the famous newspaper of London Today, working in the same office where Miss Frost worked as a journalist as well. It certainly wasn't the best job ever, nor was it a well-paid one. Although his job was ordinary, Mr Dillingham was a self-confident man, and when it came to dealing with ladies, way too self-confident.

Surprisingly, after a long silence that lasted for fifteen minutes according to Miss Frost's mental timer, a wide smile was drawn on Mr Dillingham's face. If we were talking about normal people here, fifteen minutes would have been an unnecessarily very long and irritating period of silence, but since the current situation involves such people as Miss Frost and Mr Dillingham, forgetting about ordinary rules is the only choice.