Mr. and Mrs. Executive

Chapter 31

Nora James' P. O. V

Anger courses through as my eyes narrow into deadly narrow slits.

"What did you just say?" I spit out trough clenched teeth as I slowly start to stand up.

Not only did he just call me fat but he also threatened my unborn baby's life.

Who the hell did he think he is?

I am so angry I feel like growling and huffing in bouts of rage.

Alexander– who's previous deadly look was stuck in between worry and anguish along with infuriation– now morphs into surprise and hesitancy though he still reaches out towards me.

One harsh glare his way makes him freeze before I plant my gaze back onto a speculative Arturo.

For some reason finding myself facing the cold black barrel of a gun doesn't make want to faint and be all over dramatic.

Surprisingly, it makes me feel infuriated.

Who the fricking hell does he thing he is?

"I said," Arturo mutters out once again, this time his gaze wandering around the noisy strip club and onto his men before looming back to me, "I will shoot you right here right now and I won't even blink."

Alexander grabs onto me and tries to shove me behind him but realizes his movement is restricted in such a tight space.

I elbow Alexander in the ribs, still not looking away from Arturo.

"Over my dead body will you!" I growl out.

Maybe that isn't the exact wording I should have gone with but too late now.

A hesitant coughing grabs my attention but I try my best to keep my eye on the target.

The fake cough resounds once more which makes Arturo's face snap to the owner of the voice.

After a few seconds I do too, only to come face to face with another gun, though luckily this one isn't faced at me.

My eyes follow the gun to the hand  and then to the arm, finally resting on the face.

Why the hell does Greg have a gun?

I look at Arturo who has a clenched jaw and then look beside him to find Sam pointing a gun straight at Greg.

I gulp as my eyes land on the two guards, each holding a gun– one pointing at Greg and the other at Alexander.

Why the hell– oh fuck no.

"Why the fucking hell do you have a gun? You have some serious explains to do Alexander Nathaniel James! You just wait till I tell your mother. Poor Sandra will have a heart attack. Do you want that to happen?" I snap at him angrily but only get a sheepish grin in return.

I am going to have a serious talk with all of these idiots.

I am a pregnant woman and this stress isn't good for me nor my unborn child.

How dare they do such a thing!

My eyes flicked to Ben who calmly lays back in the seat of the booth, as if this is all some sort of James Bond movie.

We can die right now.

Anyone of us can die.

Oh my God, I can't die!

My mind whirls around at a hundred miles an hour as I glance from one person to another trying to figure out what the hell to do.

Finally my eyes land on the man of the hour and am not quite surprised with the situation.