Chapter 6
The corner of his lips twitches into a smirk as he watches her close her eyes. He can hear her heart beating rapidly, and he can’t help but feel satisfied. Maybe bullying this mannerless annoying girl won’t be a bad idea, right?
“Wh… what are you doing?” She stutters nervously as she manages to turn her face away. Seeing her reaction, he scoffs unbelievably and shakes his head. What the hell is she thinking? That he’s going to kiss her or something? That’s too stupid to think of. There are girls more beautiful than her that are throwing themselves at him, and are at his call, he can get any girl he wants, but this one? Hell no! She’s a big turn-off for him.
“Am I really that annoying?” He whispers, tucking the strand of hair on her forehead, behind her ear, and she gulps down nothing as she feels her heart misses a beat. Slowly, his hand crawls its way to her plumpy lips, and he rubs his thumb on them for a few seconds, while having a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips.
“For insulting me earlier… I would’ve kissed you, but your lips are not tempting enough. They repulse me. What brand of lip gloss do you use, huh? They’re so dry and irritating,” He scoffs, and finally drops his hand from her lips.
Slowly, she opens her eyes as anger surges through her. She so much wants to kick him in the groin, but she’s too weak and shocked to react to what he did. She thought that he was just a jerk, she never knew that he was also a pervert.
“I… I didn’t insult you…” She stutters in self-defense, and he rolls his eyes as he pulls away from her. Now that she thinks about it, how come the elevator refuses to open all the minutes that he has been messing around with her?
“Maybe I would’ve been convinced to believe you if you’re not bad at lying. There’s no need to lie, I heard you anyways. And you’re going to pay for insulting me,” The elevator finally rolls open, and she scurries out, leaving him to sort himself out.
He chuckles dryly as he finally strides out of the elevator and heads to the exit door.
A few minutes later, he arrives home, and Mr. Turner is watching TV in the living room as usual. Maybe he never gets tired of it.
“Good evening, dad,” he throws himself on the couch tiredly, as groans tears through his throat.
“Welcome home, son. You look exhausted,” Mr. Turner says, tilting his head from the TV toward him. He reaches out for the glass of juice on the table beside the couch and takes a sip from it.
“Yes, dad, I’m super exhausted. Have you got something to eat yet?” He asks the old man with concern resounding in his voice, although he knows that the househelp, Rebecca must’ve made something for him to eat.
“Yes, I did. Rebecca already made something. She kept some for you in the dining room. Why don’t you go shower, and come down to eat something?” Mr. Turner replies and suggests to him.
“Sure, dad. I’ll be back.” Standing up from the couch, he drags his feet to the grand staircase and climbs it, until he gets to the hallway, and makes his way to his room. He pushes the door open and walks inside, not after inputting the passcode. Stepping inside the room, he throws his briefcase on the bed and drags his feet to stand in front of his floor-length mirror, whilst staring at his reflection.
He strips out of his clothes after he gets rid of his tie, throwing them across the room like a maniac. He stares at his perfectly built figure, and he can’t help admiring his body. This is one thing he’ll never seize doing. He has grown up admiring himself anytime he beholds his reflection in the mirror. He holds so much importance to his figure and has been trying his best to keep it in check, and it’s really working.
He finally drags his tired feet into the bathroom, and once he’s in, he gets under the shower and starts doing his thing.
Stepping out of the bathroom a few minutes later with a towel hanging around his waist, he walks over to his closet and opens it, picking out casual outfits. After he’s done dressing up, he finally walks back to the dining to have his dinner.
“Thought you already had something to eat, dad?” He asks when he finds his dad eating in the dining. He pulls out a chair and sits on it.
“I just ate a little out of the food I was served. I wanted to have dinner with you,” Mr. Turner replies to him.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” He scoffs unbelievably.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.
“I did anyways,” Mr. Turner shrugs, and he chuckles.
Silence assumes the atmosphere as the sound of their cutleries fills the atmosphere.
“Dad, I need a new secretary,” He suddenly says out of the blue, breaking the dead silence.
“What about Liam?” Mr. Turner asks, not raising his head to look at him. He rolls his eyes at the question, knowing that the man isn’t looking at him. That’s not even a question to ask, how can he possibly let that old man work as his secretary? For goodness sake, he’s old enough to be his dad.
“Dad, I’m not just comfortable with him being my secretary. He’s way too older than me. He’s almost the same age mate as you, remember? How can I let such an elderly man work under me? It’s a disrespect to my personality, dad,” He tries to convince his dad, sounding like the gentleman he’s not, and may never be.
“Is he complaining?” Mr. Turner asks sarcastically, as he raises his gaze to look at him with a questioning expression on his face. Is that even a question to be asked? Gosh!
“No…” He drawls his reply as he shrugs.
“But he doesn’t really have to be the one to complain, dad. I’m not just comfortable with him working under me. If you want, I can make him the overall supervisor. I think that’ll be more perfect than him being my secretary…” He pauses and thinks for a while before he continues, “Come to think of it, dad… if there’s a meeting outside of the country that’ll need me to travel with my secretary, how will he cope with it?” He tries to sound more convincing, while Mr. Turner stares at him with an unreadable expression on his face. It’s unclear if he’s going to agree to what he wants or not.
“Ok then. I think you’re kinda right. Do you have anyone in mind?” Now, this is the question he has been waiting to be asked…