His Personal Assistant.

Chapter Seventeen part Two.

I had always feared for his wellbeing, hoping my patience and perseverance would be fruitful by him realising and understanding what is right and wrong. I honestly didn't know was he truly happy with his freedom and unwilling to give it up or was he just doing this to test my patience and wanting me to break.

Despite all that had happened, I still stood here like a statue as a small part of me kept reassuraning myself that all this could be a misunderstanding. I shouldn't be  speculating as there might be another side to this that I wasn't seeing.

It took me a good ten minutes to calm myself with deep breaths and repeatedly counting to ten. All my efforts were for nothing when I noticed Zephyr shifting in bed. All my fear, anxiety, confusion, paranoia and sadness came crushing back to me like a thousand bricks.

He was lying on his stomach as he turned 180° to lie on his back then protractedly started stretching his arms upwards. His eyes sedately opened as he took hold of his surroundings.

I could tell he was about to reach out for the woman beside him when he lifted his head upwards slightly and froze when he saw me standing there. His eyes met mine and he scrunched his eyebrows as evidence of the tension building on his face.

Now he felt worried? Now he wants to cry over spilt milk?

He lightly lifted of the covers from his body, all the while he was careful enough not to wake the woman beside him that was thankfully soundly asleep.

Suddenly I felt the urge to slap him. To feel my twitching palm, stinging with the pain that I relayed on his red cheek! Why? Because he showed no sense of urgency. Because his focus was still fully on the other woman's wellbeing by being attentive enough not wanting her to awaken but was least bothered about the fact that I was standing right here like a broken statue, about to crumble. He took his own sweet time in getting out of the bed.

I knew better not too get violent and let my emotions get the best of me right thos moment as that could lead me into problems later on. I need to remain calm and as content as possible. I need not forget that he could do anything he wishes to me in the near future, good or bad to have his way around. I didn't need to add fuel to the burning fire. I couldn't change much of the situation so I needed to change the way I thought. Negative to positive.

Most importantly, I need to remember that Mr. Triumph is waiting downstairs to meet his son and daughter-in-law buoyantly in love like the facade Zephyr had put up before our wedding.

His eyes never left me as he stood up and strode towards me. Not once did I take my eyes off Zephyr to break our stare as he approched me, completely bare except for his venetian red boxer shorts that he had on. I could tell from his icy features that was irritated and definitely wasn't prepared for this.

I was still trying to figure out if I was happy about the fact that him scantily clad didn't have an effect on me right now or was I just too focused on his every little facial features that spoke silently and not his glorious body that could put greek god's to shame. Was I really that damaged enough?

He stood infront of me for what seemed like a second, clenched his jaw then swiftly grabbed my wrist in a concrete grip and pulled me along with him. I was wise enough than to force him to let go of my wrist. He took me all the way to the entrance of the room, spun me around until my back was pressed against the wall. He aligned his hands beside my head and trapped me with his body.

I squared my shoulders, didn't resist him but stood my ground.

Something along the lines of panic and horror showed in his eyes but it was gone in a flash.

"What are you doing here?" he spoke through gritted teeth. His voice raspy yet crisp. His clenched jaw made his veins around his neck much more prominent.

I continued staring at him. Underneath all those layers of emotions, he still managed to be calm  to hide the tsunami of mental anguish that I'm sure he was facing similar to me. The hold that we had on to each others gazes could put shame to all the forces in the world. We could have burnt through our skulls if we lasted long enough.

Our proximity would always be my weakening point. His scent, his feel, his heartbeat against my skin, every breath every miniscule reaction of his and mine could be felt, heard, smelt and seen. All my senses became hyperaware instantaneously.

I had to count to ten yet again before saying anything, "dad, downstairs," I said clearly, hard and cold.

I could tell that his jaw was about to drop with the blow he just got. I had the chance to say so much more but I knew I wouldn't have been able to survive it indomitably. I decided to stick with the 'less is more' policy for now.

The silver threads amidst the glassy sapphires of his was playing with my head.

"Yours or mine?" yet again his voice was clipped.

Now that he knew the reason, beneath whatever he was hiding, I sensed that I found this situation amusing and challenging by the slight smirk that appeared on his face.

"Ours," I said tautly and refrained from smirking back at him.

Well technically that was true wasn't it?

1.5 M! THANK YOU!!
Your undying support really pushes and motivates me to be more prompt and update as soon as I get a chance too. Do continue the creative and honest feedback. More to come. ;)

Please continue to VOTE, COMMENT and SUPPORT me.

Unreserved love to each and everyone of you incredible souls,

Blee. xxxxooooxxxx