The Accidental Detective: Finding Her Boss

Chapter 3

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"Wow, nice car," Loriatte couldn't help the genuine amazement in her tone after they hopped into Zayden's sleek, matte black car. Her eyes widened as she took in the beautiful interior adorned with a combination of cream white and black.

So luxurious.

"It's a Range Rover SVautobiography, and it costs more than your entire salary...it's better than nice," was the detective's reply as he started the car.

What a prick.

"Right," she rolled her eyes, putting on the seatbelt, "remind me to never compliment your cocky ass ever again."

"Where to?" He asked, ignoring her comment.

She gave him the address, and they began the drive to where they would hopefully find the answers they were searching for.

From the corner of his eye, detective Zayden noticed Loriatte scribbling down on a notebook that she took out of her purse, murmuring some things to herself as she did.

"What you doing over there?" He asked curiously, keeping his eye's on the road.

"None of your beeswax," she childishly scoffed, continuing her scribbling.

Zayden's brows furrowed, "ma'am..."

"Oh fine I'll tell you, no need to start crying," the girl exclaimed, closing her journal with a loud huff. "Well, detective, I'm a journalist and all of this," she gestured broadly around them, "seems like it has the potential to be a good story that could hopefully get me in good graces with my boss... assuming he's found. So, I'm going to write down every detail that has taken place thus far and moving forward."

"Oh I see," the green-eyed brunette male nodded thoughtfully.

They drove in silence for a while, until Zayden decided to talk again.

"You know, I noticed you have a bit of an accent there," he began, and she shifted her gaze from her notebook back to him, "mind if I ask from where?"

Loriatte sighed, "if you can't figure out a little accent, then I solved your little mystery on why you couldn't get any leads on this case," was her smart reply, then she went back to scribbling on her journal.

"Oh, that's rich coming from a journalist who can't do journalist things," Zayden fired back, clearly annoyed with her response, "your coworkers words, not mine."

Of course, those racist shitheads would talk shit about her the second they got the chance to.

Loriatte gritted her teeth, her fist clenching on her lap.

She wanted to so badly smash his perfect face against the luxurious car's stirring wheel, but she inhaled deeply then exhaled to rein in her impulses because he was behind the wheel, and she didn't want to put her own life at risk.

No, she wanted to kill him, but live.

"I swear you've been rude since our first meeting," she said through gritted teeth.

"I wasn't being rude, I was being real," he smirked at his 'clever' response, "plus you started it so..."

"You know, I've only known you for a couple of hours, and I've already made up my mind on the fact that I hate you," she said, her nose scrunching up.

"Oh yeah?" The detective asked as they turned a corner.

"Yeah," she looked him up and down, "you're a cocky rude bastard who doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Oh, I don't?"

"No you don't, detective Zay-what's-his-face," she huffed and the corner of Zayden's lips twitched, "I am a hardworking, woman. I put my heart and soul into every piece I write, and I refuse to allow some Sherlock Holmes wannabe to tell me otherwise. I know my worth, okay? And no matter what anyone says...I-I know I'm still a masterpiece in the making," she finished with a huff.