The Secret Heiress | ✔️

8 | 𝚂𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜

Viviane blinks like a deer caught in headlights, "How'd you-"

"Your accent." I pass her a glance, "Why choose London when Russia is good enough?"

She shrugs, "I like London. Not to say Russia isn't good, it's a splendid place for professional employment. But I needed a place away from home for a change. You know all the-"

"What's next in the report?" I divert back to work because without me realizing I'd started asking social questions when I had no plans to be social.

Viviane seems more relieved at the change of subject than I'd anticipated, "Second up, the research and development team suggested an opening of a new luxury store in Seventh Avenue. . ."

Her conversation drones on in the background as I make it to my office at the top-most floor, giving pointers once in a while before dismissing her.

Viviane, despite her too much talking, is actually a more competent assistant than I'd expected and even though Sayeed is duly missed, his cover-up just sums up his spot perfectly.

Alone in the sleek confines of my office with the floor-to-ceiling windows giving a splendid view of the Times Square below, I rest back in my leather chair behind the black-wood desk.

The onslaught of emotions I'd held back the whole time comes rushing at me in full force as if it had waited for me to be left in solitude to attack and disrupt my peace.

Samuel Davidson. My father.

I'd seen him before in the years after the incident, but I'd never spoken to him. We'd both pretended like we didn't know each other, like we were two strangers and not father and daugher.

Part of me knew the resentment I held towards my father was petty, stupid even. Because he was right in his place to not want to acknowledge me after what happened.

I hated how he didn't believe me back then. Even though I couldn't blame him because part of me didn't believe myself. My head was a messy haze when it came to that day.

What had hurt though was the fact that he'd cared about his company over his wife's peace that day. He'd chosen his company. He'd believed what was in front of him, he'd despised me in that moment. But instead of issuing justice, he'd burried everything down, somehow put the blame on someone who wasn't the culprit and shipped me off to another city to prevent any doubt that might cause a hit against Davidson Group's reputation.

Despite knowing if he had done what needed to be done, I wouldn't be here today, I couldn't let the resentment go.

For a man who'd been madly in love with Irene Hamen, knowing how much his wife's death had broken him, he'd wiped his hands clean off the case surrounding her death the first thing to save his company's image. It'd put a crack in the fragile glass around me and my father's relationship, which had only grown to an un-repairable point within the years I spent alone in London, wallowing in guilt, grief and insanity.

If it weren't for Mia, I wouldn't be staying in that villa one more minute.

Mia and I are bonded through deep-rooted trauma. We'd truly been through each other's best and worst together. We first met at the clown's warehouse. Even if we didn't know it, we'd been schoolmates before that.

After we got out, father and mother had strictly homeschooled me out of paranoia. The other kidnapped children's parents following suit. On my request, Mia was allowed to be one of my very few homeschool mates. And that's where our friendship grew solid.

There wasn't a moment in my life when Mia had quitted on me, and seeing the hopeful way she asked me whether I'd still stay. . . .I couldn't deny her when I knew she wouldn't if she were in my place.

But it still didn't mean that I didn't feel suffocated there.

A tired breath whisks past my mouth. I rest my head on the desk, feeling too drained and tired. Atleast I did the work for the day yesterday night itself.

It doesn't take long for my eyelids to grow heavy from the lack of sleep and my rushing thoughts in the pin-drop silent confines of my office.

Before I can stop it, the fatigue claims my consciousness pulling me into a deep slumber.

...

A feathery light touch on my cheek rouses me awake. Not opening my eyes, I lean into it, a strange sense of calm enveloping me.

The hand stills for a moment, but then the touch turns firmer, a thumb stroking the slopes of my cheekbones and carresing the shape of my jaw.

I nearly succumb to the soft pleasure of the person's touch, nearly let out a sigh-

Wait, what?!

My eyes flash open in alarm, my self-defense instincts kicking in as I grab the wrist of the hand that touched my face in a vice-like grip. With a sharp twist to the person's arm, I stand up and knock his jaw with my knee. His upper body falls face first on the desk as I lock his arm behind his back, everything happening within a matter of seconds.

Although when my sight finally takes in the intruder, they widen with incredulity. You gotta be kidding me.

Half sprawled on my desk, rendered immobile under my hold, is Lykas Vitallis. His raven hair curtains over the long lashes of his whisky eyes as they stare up at me in part shock and part awe.

"The fuck are you? A Ninja?!"

--------᪥♔︎᪥-------

Jennifer really does have Ninja moves tho. . .

I know I went a bit in detail about Viviane but trust me when I say it'll all make sense in the end👀🤐

Anyways, how'd you like the chapter? Thoughts?

Do you think someone is following Jenna?👀