His Vengeful Game(Wattys2018)

Chapter Fourteen

Michael Pov...

As the warm water touches my skin, my body relaxes, and the thought of killing these men who assaulted Miss Laurent gradually fades.

It's been two weeks since I saw her. After the assault, I gave her two weeks' leave. I'll pay her, of course. Yet, I feel it isn't enough to pay for what happened to her.

I don't believe that it is my fault that she got assaulted that night. Yet, I feel responsible. I should have known she didn't have a car and let her go earlier.

The way her angry eyes fired rages and hate towards me that night inked in my brain. I can't take it away. I've been trying to erase the images, but it won't go away.

Anyways, why the hell do I care? I'm the one with the billion-dollar company. I'm the one who has the power to fire and keep her if I want. Why do I care if she told me she hates me or not? I didn't hire her to like me.

I walk into my bedroom with a yellow towel tied to my waist.

I look at my phone. Noticing three missed calls from the NYPD office. I may or may not menace them a little. They need to find these men.

I am not particularly fond of Miss Laurent. But I'll never wish something like that on her. I hate cowardly men who prey on women walking alone in the street.

In the same way, guys don't have a problem walking alone at night in the street. It should be the same for women. I shouldn't have to tell her. It was dangerous to walk alone in the street, for I've never said it to one of my guy employees.

I've never gone to the hospital to visit her. I brought her to the hospital. So I don't think it'll be appropriate to stay at her bedside every minute. That'll show favoritism. And I don't do that in my company.

But I really want to see her. To see if she's okay. And to reassure her, is there anything I can do? She can call me.

When I finished dressing up, the idea of going to her house popped one more time into my mind. I dismissed it not minutes ago. It comes back—this time, with a stronger urge.

Give up. I called my driver. I instructed him to drive me to shop for a car. James looked at me like I was crazy. Until I told him he wasn't for me.

She'll still work for me. And I figured she'd be staying later overnight. I don't want what happened to keep happening. The best way to stop it from happening again is for her to drive herself home. And I came to make it happen. So I will.

There are a lot of cars—a lot of good cars with a reasonable price. I know a lot about the car, so it didn't take me long to notice a white Lamborghini. I walk towards it. It's a perfect car. She'll like this car.

I hear James clears his throat behind me. When I look at him, he smiles and says.

"Sir, I don't think this car is appropriate to buy for your employees. The price is near $200k."

I look at him for a minute. I slide my hand into my pocket. Now, it's time for me to clear my throat. Embarrass, I tell him.

"You're right. I can't see a good car in here."

James chuckles in amusement. He walks into a red car.

"Can I help?" James ask. I nod. He can help, alright. But I want to be the one choosing the car.

After hours of dismissing James' choices, I'm exhausted. I've never shopped for a car. All my vehicle is built from the ground up, and I give them the way I want them to be. So you can comprehend my exhaustion.