“I-I…” I stutter when he shoots me a look. His jaw is clenched, and his steel grey eyes look deadly as he squints ever so faintly. “I-I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
“Mmh,” he hums simply.
Averting my gaze, I bow my head and stare at the droplets of water through the window as he maneuvers the vehicle from behind the steering wheel. I close my eyes and utter a silent prayer when lightning flashes again. Fortunately, the noise is muffled in the cabin of the car, and the ride back home is quick.
I get out of the vehicle the moment it pulls to a stop in the driveway. Without sparing the man another glance, I sprint up the stairs and head straight to my bedroom. My clothes are already mostly dry, but I feel sticky and humiliated. I take a warm shower, blow-dry my hair, and fall onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Today is the third anniversary of my grandfather’s death. For the same amount of time, I’ve been living under a roof with the cold and despotic Derik Lewis.
Throughout these years, I still can’t seem to get used to his demeanor.
Sometimes he’s okay, but most times he’s overbearing and difficult to read. I still cannot understand why my grandpa trusted the man so much, to leave me in his hands. These thoughts linger in my mind as I doze off.
It’s pitch-dark when I wake up, making me shoot up from my bed.
It would be detrimental if I came late for dinner. Derik hates tardiness and values his timetable. The best I can do is adjust and avoid stepping on his toes.
After all, he is my guardian.
I hurriedly slip into a pair of denim shorts and an old t-shirt from the stack of old clothes in my wardrobe, quite pleased that they still fit. The trip back to Tucson was planned, but I didn’t really pack anything since the villa has been under trusted care these past few years and I’d never moved all my things out when I left for college.
“You’re awake,” Mrs. Whittle greets me when she sees me enter the dining hall. She’s the caretaker, and I’ve been familiar with her since I was fifteen.
“Good evening,” I greet back with a smile.
Settling on my chair, my eyes fall on the man sitting at the center of the long table. He looks at me grimly, as if I’ve committed a crime.
I shudder uncomfortably.
“I-I…dozed off.”
“Mmm,” he acknowledges absently before continuing with his meal.
I perch on my seat, observing his form while waiting for my food. Derik looks like he’s shooting an ad for a high-end brand of cutlery. His movements are graceful and refined. Mesmerizing would be an understatement. Without
question, with his impeccable looks, regal aura, and bottomless pockets, women would easily line up from his doorstep to Tokyo for a chance with him.
The sleeves of his black shirt are folded to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms. His muscles contract faintly with his every move. My gaze unconsciously travels to his wide chest and shoulders. Undoubtedly, he’s the only man I’ve ever seen with such a flawless physique. His face is out of this world. Seriously, if Lewis Corporation ever declares bankruptcy, he could still maintain a lavish lifestyle by becoming a model or an actor. From his sharp jaw, chiseled nose, thin lips, and tantalizing grey eyes that seem to suck the energy out of everything he lays them into–he is every bit gorgeous. If someone were to claim he stepped straight out of a romance novel, I wouldn’t argue! To top it all off, he’s only in his early thirties, and already possesses everything any woman could desire in a partner. I can’t help but wonder why he’s still single.
I snigger inwardly, realizing that regardless of how perfect he seems, he’s human, too. He’s not actually flawless. And because of that, he possesses the greatest flaw–his attitude. Any woman would want a warm and happy life full of love.
Derik cannot offer them that.
He’s a statue, after all. Soulless, ruthless, and devoid of emotion.
“Eat,” Derik orders, pulling my thoughts back to the present. I feel heat creeping up my cheeks when I realize he just caught me staring at him.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Mrs. Whittle arranges my cutlery and I focus on my meal in silence. From the corner of my eye, I observe Derik finish eating, but he remains seated, scrolling on his phone impassively. When I’m done with my meal, I feel his eyes linger on me.
“Your grandfather entrusted you to me for one reason. Starting on Monday, you’ll be learning how to run Quinn Industries. You’ll be taking over your
family’s business soon,” he states gruffly, breaking his silence.
I frown and raise my head to meet his gaze.
“I just graduated. I was hoping I could take a little break,” I plead timidly.
He frowns in disapproval.
“Ms. Quinn, there are many people who cannot afford for you to take a break.
Quinn Industries employs thousands of people, and whether you like it or not, their livelihoods are in your hands. This is a serious responsibility.”
I look down, my hopes deflated. I’ve already planned to catch up with my old friends here in Tucson. I want to take a stroll through the places my parents used to take me and reminisce about how happy my life used to be. Is that too much to ask?
“I-I…I just want to stay here for a little while,” I redirect my gaze to the droplets of water cascading down the windowsill and muster some courage to look him in the eyes again. “Can’t I?”
Derik pauses and squints his eyes, sending shivers down my spine. I can feel my ass sweating in anxiety, but I dare to offer him a pleading look–the same puppy eyes I used to give my grandpa when I was asking for something.
His mouth rises into a mocking grin.
Okay, that was a futile attempt.
“You’ll start on Monday.”
