Silence

Chocolate Pools

I could've made millions right now if it wasn't for this shitty weather and this shitty airport, a dark and gloomier Rikkard Ambrose thought whilst restraining himself from strangling the small desk clerk who seems to have a shaking disorder. While the man stuttered on and on, Rikkard thought of ways on how to find an alternative way to get to Ireland. It should be cheap, quick, and easy. Pretty much the same way as picking up women on sidewalks at night. Not that he would spend his precious time picking women, he had an empire to worry about. Besides, he's unofficially married to his work, he simply had no time for women.

The business magnate returned his attention to the small desk clerk, who seemed to have turned into a shade whiter. "Cancel my flight and give me a refund right now." He spoke in a voice so devoid of emotion, as if his voice was also saying: Do your job right or else you're fired. The man nodded like his life depended on it and started typing on the keyboard with lighting speed.

After a few agonizing minutes for Mr. Ambrose, the desk clerk handed the money with shaking hands and Mr. Ambrose grabbed it without a thought and walked away without looking back. Now he faced another dilemma, who would take him to Ireland? He casually walked in long, powerful strides as the common folk buzzed with gossip, most likely about him and his very personal life.

Passing by stall to stall, he became to grow impatient and angry. All of the boats and other forms of transportation were currently unavailable due to the storm. If he were their boss he would've wanted dedication in his men and sail even in the strongest of storms.

As much as he loathed the thought it, his feet were starting to hurt from walking around the airport. Coincidently, a Starbucks cafe was a couple of blocks away, he could smell the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. His hold tightened on his single suitcase and headed towards the cafe.

People were everywhere and it irritated him, he could barely think straight. He scowled and brought the cup to his mouth just as something crashed into him and sent his coffee straight into his face and shirt.

Horrified gasps echoed everywhere, buzz of whispers and frightened looks surrounded him and he hated it all, he also hated the imbecile who crashed into him. The scalding black liquid dripped from his hair to his cheek until it fell into his ten-year old suit.

"Holy mother of pumpernickels, I am so sorry! Here, lemme wipe those off." Rikkard refused to open his eyes as he silently counted from one to ten, just like what his anger-management teacher had taught him as a technique. He hadn't gone there willingly of course, his mother forced him.

He felt soft hands touching his face, and tissue messily wiping his hair, holy crap is she trying to rip my hair out? He began to feel annoyed that he opened his eyes.

To say that opening them was a big mistake is a huge understatement.

Chocolate, rich, dark, and heavenly. He was staring into huge chocolate pools that seemed to be staring right back at him. Then she blinked, long and curled lashes that seemed to make her eye pop out, that irritated the hell out of him.

Rikkard growled and yanked the tissues from the woman's hands, while she stood speechless and gaping, he angrily wiped his coffee-stained suit and slacks. After a few horrible minutes of wiping, his trousers were already dry, but he couldn't stop his scowl from forming when he saw a huge brown stain on his tie. This costed me a few bucks, she has to pay.

The woman, Rikkard noticed, had decided to sit in the other chair, facing him. Her bottom lip bitten by her teeth, eyes cast downward, like a puppy apologizing to it's owner.

His glare did not waver though and broke the ice, "You're going to pay for this." He spoke calmly, he may be seething in anger, but his mother raised him a gentleman, this woman looked like she's on the verge of running. He couldn't let her go, not that she still had a debt to pay.