Skyla happily returned ho after a fruitful day at work and a et-up with her best friend. Her joy was squashed seeing Doran’s car in the driveway. He was ho early today and that ant he would be waiting for her.
The wave of anxiety washed over her as she made her way inside. Amsilia was not ho, Skyla had seen her car missing from the driveway.
Mada Maven welcod her back.
"Would you like afternoon tea, dear?" she affectionately asked, always holding that softness for her young miss.
"No, Mada, I am full. Is Doran in our room?" she apprehensively asked, a frightened glint descending in her eyes.
"Yes, his mood doesn’t seem very amiable. Be careful, miss," Madam Maven wished that her Miss wouldn’t have to face that fiend every day. But it was inevitable.
"I will be, don’t worry," she gave the shopping bags she had brought to Mada Maven. Not wanting to incur the unprecedented wrath of her husband. She knew he would flip over seeing she went shopping.
Slowly climbing the stairs she reached her room, her heart beating so loudly that it was the only sound she could hear. Turning the doorknob she entered her gloomy room.
Her heart skipped a beat when her timid eyes collided with his fierce ones as he sat on her divan with a cigarette in his hand. Long legs were crossed over one another.
"Where are you coming from?" he drawled out his words. There was no greeting, never was. Those chilling peepers sent a shiver creeping through her. The fear always slowly seeped into her.
"Office, of course," she let down her handbag and placed it on the table.
"With whom?" His next question seed slightly accusatory. She paused trying to formulate an answer which would not spike his anger.
"A car was sent from the office for pick and drop," she carefully answered.
"A fucking limited edition black Jaguar? Do you want to believe that such a car was rely sent for your pick and drop? What are you a fucking Queen of Angel City?" he snarled, reaching out and grabbing her hand.
He pulled with such force that Skyla staggered and landed between his legs. His other hand clutched her hair and yanked so her face jerked upwards and a small yelp escaped her. His hand jailed her face into a death grip.
"You were carrying shopping bags when you arrived ho today and you left them downstairs. What do you take to be? A fool? Who doesn’t understand that with the excuse of going to the office, you went sowhere else with who knows whom? So I am going to ask one last ti. Who was it?"
Skyla’s scalp hurt, the pain and accusations made her cry out as she tried to wriggle out of his hold.
"Why don’t you call Mr. Zyair and ask the truth since you won’t believe no matter what I say?" she defiantly yelled at him, holding back the painful tears.
He leaned closer, his nostrils flaring as those colder-than-ice peepers delved into her soul as if gawking her eyes for the truth. Her face had begun to bruise where he was gripping her and her scalp was going numb.
"That’s where you believe you have leverage now. Just because you have started working doesn’t an you have beco independent. Keep this drilled in your brain, you will always be dependent on . Stepping out of this house you still represent . Sending you by taxi was ant to keep you humble and onlookers to know that even with riches we were down to earth. But you are still a spoiled daddy’s daughter who needs a car to travel even for fifteen minutes."
With these words, he grabbed her neck and squeezed, his nails digging into her soft flesh. He leaned even closer until his breath was on her face.
"You belong only to , don’t you ever forget that," he fud in such a low, dangerous voice that the hair on Skyla’s body stood up.
He threw her back and Skyla scuttled away from his reach, blinking away the tears. The number of unreasonable words this man uttered never ceased to amaze Skyla.
"You are sick and there is no cure for distrust. If you can’t trust then you should have said no to Mr. Zyair. How am I supposed to go to the office with bruises on my face and neck? Doesn’t your heart have a shred of sympathy? Doesn’t it hurt?"
She lanted, wiping away the tears that were finally making their way down her bruised cheeks.
Doran was still fuming in the wave of rage that was passing through him but her words made his dark heart tinge in guilt. But that was sothing he would never reveal to her. In her mind, he was a devil and his actions fuelled that thought.
He simply grabbed his phone and dialled Zyair’s number. Since Zyair was still in the photo shoot for that perfu they were launching, Lawrence picked it up and said.
"How may I help you?"
"Can I speak to Mr. Zyair?" Doran asked with a pinch of irritation creeping up in his voice.
"He is in a shoot and is unavailable. State your query and I will pass it on," Lawrence answered, dryly.
"Oh! It’s nothing, I just wanted to say that you didn’t have to go to the trouble of sending a car for Mrs. Blackthorn to be picked up," he strategically stated, his eyes focused on Skyla, gawking at her reaction.
"That’s no big deal, Mr. Doran. All our employees enjoy this service from us. Travelling by taxi can result in getting late and we value ti like gold in Kincaid International."
His answer proved Doran’s allegations wrong and inwardly he was satisfied that Skyla had truly been picked up only by a company car. This also made him wonder about the wealth of Zyair Kincaid. The man who could send such a luxury car to pick up random employees, how rich he truly was. The jealousy manifested another ugly head. A hydra was being born inside his chest
"Thank you for all your troubles. We are very honoured by such a gesture," his tongue rolled out sweet words while his eyes flashed dangerously. Skyla watched him in scepticism knowing too well how envious he was of Zyair, who was proving to be a million tis a man that Doran ever could be.
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