4 | Slapped

[ZEMIRA]

A little lie hurt no one, right?

Since a very young age, I’d struggled to contain my ever-growing temper. I still do. I don’t know. Maybe something is wrong with me. Maybe the nerves shooting emotions into the brain are shorter and faster in my case. Or maybe people are just plain stupid. Could be anything, really. Like every other person in the world, I have my limitations. I don’t like myself, don’t think anyone does. Not with the temper that I always bristle with. After all, people stay away from the people who cause scenes. And the experience that I have in the said department, it’s impossible to break that record.

But causing a scene and drawing unwanted attention to yourself doesn’t happen out of a hobby. No one enjoys the look of ‘what a weirdo’ people define them with. No one. Trust me.

But sometimes, you just don’t have a choice.

Or control, in my case.

Although this time, there is a legit reason to support my actions.

For the last few years, the men from R & R Developers have been trying to persuade my mom to sell her property to them. There have been multiple offers and I’ll be honest, some of them really got us thinking. But the answer to all their bids always remained an extensive no. Why? Because there is no other place like home. That’s why. Not every building made of bricks and stones can make you feel you belong. It’s not every house that welcomes you with the warmth that makes you feel safe. For mom and me, this home is all we have. And all we’d ever need.

So yes, we have been getting some offers to sell our property. And we have been turning them down every single time. But in the last few months, the approach of the company had gotten way aggressive. It started with vague threats that none of us cared to take seriously. Mom and I have dealt with enough bullies in our lives—my father and his new family included—so the act of intimidation never really worked on us. We slept just fine. However, we should have known it was merely the beginning of what they were planning to do next. It happened in my absence and I have a feeling it was probably deliberate. A few days back, the company sent a few dangerous-looking men to our home. Tall, broad, and bedecked with weapons. None of them really used weapons, though. I doubt if they had the intention either. But the mere sight got to my mom. She panicked. And signed the papers right away.

I have been livid ever since.

All of this happened four days back. And the truth is—it’s only been two days since I have been trying to contact the owner of the R & R Developers. Because of some technicalities, my flight to Washington got delayed and by the time I reached the company’s tower, Jeremiah Richmond had left. With some luck and googling around, I stumbled on his home address. But he wasn’t there either. The old man who opened the door was nice enough to make a call on my behalf. While I waited outside in the garden, admiring the vast green view, the old man returned and suggested that I’d have better luck finding the owner at the office than at home.

So, here I was today. Back at the office.

“Why don’t we take this matter to my office and hear out what you have to say?”

The blood in my veins lit with something warm and smooth when those words came out of his mouth.

Jeremiah Richmond was not some fifty-year-old with short height, a bald head and nonexistent eyebrows. Something, for some reason, I kind of imagined him to be. No. He was nothing like that. In fact, he was everything I never thought it was possible to have in one person. He was tall, probably around six feet or more. Broad enough that he easily blocked the entire view behind him. Owned a long face with mesmerizing dark hazel eyes. His presence held an authority that made you think twice before opening your mouth. An air of confidence crackled all around him. The worst part was that he seemed to be aware of the effect he had on people. It showed in the way he wore that haughty smirk so proudly on his face.

“Fine,” I said, and followed him down the hallway.

Once we reached the safe environment of his cabin, he gestured to me to take a seat and offered me a glass of water.

My throat had grown rough and dehydrated after so much yelling. So, with little to no contemplation, I reached for the glass of water and drowned it.

“So,” taking a seat across the almost empty office desk, he leaned forward with his elbows on the tabletop. “What brings you to wreak this havoc in my office?” he asked, an unmistakable dark amusement in his eyes.

I almost choked at his allegation. Is that what it looked like? That I was wreaking havoc?

“None of us had to deal with this havoc, Mr Richmond, if you hadn’t put your nose where it didn’t belong.”

His eyebrows shot up into his forehead before he gave his head a small shake. “I must apologize, Ms—”

“Zemira. Zemira Feather.”

“Ms Feather,” he said with a deliberate roll of his tongue that seeped into my skin and warmed my entire being.

Clasping my fingers tightly around the empty glass, I tried to ease down the warmth soaring up my neck.

“What are you trying to imply?”

Something about the way he appeared so oblivious to everything his company did to us rubbed me in the wrong way. How could he be so thoughtless? So inattentive? How could he ruin someone’s life and not look one inch guilty? How? I refuse to believe a man like him didn’t know what goes on in his company. He seemed like the one to keep everyone on their toes. Like that woman outside, trying to prevent me from approaching him. The one to call me crazy.

I’ll show them what’s crazy.

“Look, Mr Richmond,” Putting the glass back on the table, I leaned forward, arms crossed. “I’m not the one to beat around the bush.”

“Good to hear.”

“I’m going to come straight to the point.”

“Of course, can’t wait.”

“You have something of mine. It’s time you gave it back.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“You took my home, Mr Richmond. I want my home back!” I snapped.

Silence fell in the room. My legs shook underneath the table. Frustration burned through my chest, turning all rationality into smoke.

I tried to breathe through my mouth. Something mom always told me to do whenever my anger shot through my head. I had this conversation a million times in my head. I was supposed to be polite. I was supposed to act nice and convince him that the home he bought with unfair means should be returned to us if he wanted no more trouble. If he agreed to do the right thing: well and good, handshake and all. But if he didn’t, then see you in court. That was how this conversation was supposed to go. Like two mature people coming to terms.

Jeremiah fixed me with a sharp gaze before leaning back in his chair. His expression was thoughtful while his head tipped to the side with a slight brush of curiosity.

However, what he said next startled me to the bones.

“Get out!” He snapped with a flick of his chin.

What? “Wait—I—no!”

“I said. Get out, Ms Feather.”

“That’s it? That’s how you plan to deal with this matter? By completely avoiding it?”

“Not avoiding the matter, Ms Feather, merely pushing it further dates ahead until you pick up some lessons on how to behave appropriately.”

“Are you trying to say I don’t know how to behave?”

“Not trying, Ms Feather. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“God, I can’t believe you.”

“Please take your God and beliefs outside of this office, Ms Feather. If you failed to pay attention, I’m a very busy man. I don’t have time to deal with your absurdity.”

“Are you serious?” I was seething by now, could hear my blood pumping in my ears.

“I’ll just call the security then,” rolling his eyes, he pressed a button on the intercom.

However, before he could let a single word out, I pressed the disconnect button and stood up to my feet.

His glares turned murderous. “What the fuck you think you’re doing?”

“Well, who needs lessons on good behaviour now?” I scoffed, reminding him of his own lack of decorum.

Shooting up to his feet, he rounded the desk so fast that I lurched against the chair behind, while attempting to create some distance between us.

He grabbed me by my upper arm and yanked me to him. Our faces were inches away from each other. His grip felt like a band of fire. Heat soaked through the sleeve of my dress and into my skin. It fucking burnt.

“I have been trying my best to restrain myself, Ms Feather. You have no clue whom you’re messing with. Before I forget, you’re a woman. And fragile as hell. Get out of my office. Right now!”

He shoved me towards the door.

Tears blazed through my eyes and blurred my vision. Everything went silent in my head. Only a constant rumble of embarrassment resounded. It cracked through my body and turned it hot as hell. Agitation surged in my chest and prepared to flare through my throat.

For a second, I braced myself to leave. I couldn’t find it in me to turn around and face him again. I felt insignificant, powerless, and worthless. As if my honour held no value. A can of expired goods one could trash without remorse.

But the churning frustration beneath my flesh turned hot lava when mom’s panicked face flashed in front of my eyes. She was so scared after those men paid a visit and threatened to cause me to harm if she refused to sign the papers. Jeremiah Richmond had no right to talk about one’s manners and conduct. His own conduct was unlawful, terrible and insensitive.

He was a full, dedicated definition of an asshole.

What did he think of himself? Sure, he was rich and had money to buy literally anything he desired. But what part of ‘not everything is up for a sale’ he did not understand?

Anger boiled in my blood, so much that the corners of my vision darkened to the darkest shade of red. Clenching my fist into a ball, I breathed through my mouth.

Once.

Twice.

Fuck it.

Turning on my heels, I closed the distance between us. Jeremiah Richmond had already moved on to his next task, typing away something on his phone. I grabbed that fucking phone and pulled it away from his grasp.

His jaw ticked. But instead of asking or saying anything at all, he settled on fixing me with his powerful glares. As if that should be enough for my poor self to know what he needed me to do.

Return the damn phone.

I didn’t.

My indifference to implementing his orders must have dawned on him. As he made an unwilling attempt to reach for the phone, I moved my hand further away.

His throat vibrated with a growl.

I steeled my gaze.

“You have five seconds to return the phone.”

“That should be enough.”

“Say what—”

The temperature of the entire room fired up ten times when my hand met his cheek. The sound—it echoed against the walls of the empty room. My heart throbbed ridiculously hard underneath my ribs. Almost with force, I worried it might burst out.

His gaze burnt my face when I forced the phone back into his hand.

He said nothing. Just glared. I didn’t feel the enthusiasm either.

But there was one thing that still needed to be addressed.

“Let’s try this again, Mr Richmond. Shall we?” I said and took a step back. “Unlike today, hopefully, tomorrow turns out to be a better day for mutual understanding.”

And with those parting words, I saw myself out.