A N A Y A
Getting Theo to give his autograph to secure my deal with the CEO of Kevlov wasn't as hard as I expected.
But knowing his fans tend to boost his ego, it's of no surprise Theo was on board.
Throughout the day, all I can think about is the decision I made to go to dinner with Roman.
I was under the impression he would think twice to send me a message knowing I blocked him a year ago.
But I was surprised to see his text last night as soon as I unblocked his number.
He didn't waste time asking me out again to which I complied.
I can barely remember the last time I went out on a date like this.
Since the date is scheduled for tonight, there are a few things I intend to handle before then.
One of them being my meeting with Cohen and Ludovic regarding the latest updates on the investigation.
After our heated argument, I was more than convinced Ludovic would give up on assisting me with the investigation.
But it's far from the case.
By the time I arrive home, they show up at my place minutes later.
I anticipated Ludovic's continuous state of vexation towards me after our heated conversation at the business event.
Well, it was more like a yelling match than a conversation, to be frank.
The minute Ludovic steps into my living area, there are no visible traces of emotions on his face.
His face is stoic. His aura; dark and unapproachable.
He doesn't even acknowledge my presence.
I roll my eyes.
Like he has the right to be mad when I'm the one who should be infuriated at this point.
He can give me the silent treatment for all I care.
"Anything new?" Ludovic asks Cohen.
"I was able to trace Dixon's IP address thanks to a public server he used not too long ago," Cohen responds as his concentration is fixated on the laptop, "even if I couldn't decipher much of his digital footprint, I managed to trace an anonymous email he sent months ago which could be of use,"
My brows furrow.
Who the heck is Dixon and why am I just hearing about him now?
I end up voicing my thoughts.
"I've had my suspicions of my PA after Theo's mugshots were leaked anonymously," Ludovic responds stoically without meeting my gaze.
A surge of annoyance creeps into my veins.
"And you didn't think to tell me this sooner?" I ask in an incredulous voice.
"I had to be certain of his real motives before drawing any conclusion," he asserts while folding his arms.
Before I can speak, Cohen reveals, "This was the email he sent months ago before deleting it."
On cue, everyone's gaze is fixated on the screen.
"Luckily, he wasn't smart enough to permanently delete it," Cohen comments smugly.
Upon close inspection, the following email displays :
To : Brice.Connor@SSC.com
Good evening,
I have some very important information that would undoubtedly draw the public's attention. Make no mistake, this information will ruin a celebrity's career. But access to such limited information comes with a price.
We'll be in touch.
My eyes widen.
What is going on?
"That son of a bitch," Ludovic snarls ; eyes blazed with fire, "Did he really think he could outsmart me?"
"As shown," Cohen begins, "Dixon reached out to the head of SSC, a big news agency, to destroy a celebrity's career and I don't think the timing is a coincidence."
"But I don't get it," I say in disdain, "Why the heck would he do something like this? What does he gain out of this?"
Ludovic wears his thinking face; as if he knows something we don't.
"There's more to what meets the eye," he reveals as he seems to contemplate his next words, "Dixon would never have the balls to defy me on his own that is unless someone is pulling the strings but the question is who?"
Perplexed, I ask, "Could it be that he probably leaked the mugshots on his own to disparage Varos since we're the competition?"
Rubbing his forefinger against his chin, Ludovic shakes his head, "Then why else didn't he come clean about it knowing a part of me initially wanted to leak the mugshots? He had to have known I would've found out and the only way he's been acting so confident is if someone is protecting him."
His theory sounds plausible.
But it still doesn't answer why Dixon is gunning after me when I didn't even know the guy existed five minutes ago.
"I think. . ." Ludovic's inquisitive tone summons me to reality, "the person who ordered Dixon could very much have ordered those incompetent security guards at the gala to delete the surveillance footage."
The racing thoughts in my head cease to quell.
Why in the world would someone I've never met in my entire life go above and beyond to almost destroy my company?
Could Luvdovic be right?
Could someone else be orchestrating this so-called Dixon's actions as well as Detective Landford's behind the scenes?
And if so. . .who?
"So what are you trying to say?" I hurl; my brows crumpled, "Was this Dixon guy involved in my sister's murder?"
Ludovic's unreadable eyes meet mine for the first time tonight.
He shakes his head, "We can't make that assumption when we don't have any evidence that points to him being the perpetrator.
He pauses to redirect his gaze back to the laptop screen, "The only thing we can assume is whoever ordered Dixon to leak those mugshots most likely wanted to pit us against each other but the real question is why?"
Distressed, I run my fingers through my curls.
I'm seriously on the edge of losing my freaking mind if I don't catch this damn culprit.
"This whole investigation is driving me insane," the words escape me before I can think them through.
"I told you we'll catch him," Ludovic asserts without throwing me a glance, "and I meant it."
His reassuring words usually have the power to silence my racing thoughts.
But the effect isn't the same tonight.
"For now, we have to act like we don't know anything about Dixon's involvement," Ludovic proclaims, "it'll buy us enough time to figure out who he's working for."
I nod.
"Do you have any news on Landford?" Ludovic addresses Cohen sharply.
The latter shakes his head, "No but I'll keep looking."
"Make sure you find him by any means necessary." Ludovic commands to which Cohen nods.
Minutes later, Ludovic withdraws to take an urgent call from the office.
Once Cohen begins to fold his computer in his backpack, I say, "Thanks a lot for your assistance, I really appreciate the work you're doing."
He blinks owlishly.
Awkward seconds ensue before he adjusts his computer glasses.
"It's what I'm paid to do so. . ."
It's now my turn to blink.
I guess the guy doesn't know how to take a compliment.
With a curt nod, I retreat.
"Can I ask a question?"
I halt in my tracks only to pivot.
Once I avert my gaze back to him, he adjusts his backpack on his shoulder nervously.
"It's a free country," is all I can reply giving him enough of a reason to say,
"Are you guys fighting?" Cohen asks straightforwardly.
I freeze.
I did not expect that.
Upon clearing my throat, I feign confusion, "What makes you think that?"
He gives a lazy shrug, "I dunno, you both seemed on edge more than usual. I could almost feel the huge tension in the room."
His words take me by surprise.
I know the guy is highly observant but never did I expect him to notice the strained dynamic between Ludovic and I.
Are we that obvious?
I do my best to mask my bewildered expression before saying, "It probably has to do with the loads of work we're faced with," I go for a reasonable explanation.
He squints as though he's unable to find truth behind my words.
After his piercing scrutiny, he doesn't press the topic further.
"Just food for thought," he throws a glance at his wristwatch, "I should hit the road. They're announcing a thunderstorm."
"I don't think it's safe to drive," puzzlement overtakes my features, "Why don't you wait here until the weather clears?"
He shakes his head, "Thanks but there's no need. I'll get home before the storm hits the city."
I nod before he heads to the main door entrance.
The distant voice in the background is enough to remind me of Ludovic's presence.
The room suddenly feels suffocating.
Upon glancing at the time on my phone, I remember my plans for the evening.
I need to get ready for the date or else I'll be late.
"Cohen left?"
I'm summoned to reality minutes later upon shifting my gaze to his.
Stood by the minimalist wooden stairs is Ludovic.
Aside from the glimpse of exhaustion in his eyes, his stoic expression remains.
I nod, "Yep."
He shifts his glance to his wristwatch, "So what'd I miss?"
An inexplicable rush of irritation surges.
And the worst part is not being able to pinpoint why his nonchalance towards me should bother me this much.
But it just does.
"Nothing worth mentioning," my voice is stoic as I fold my arms.
A mountainous rumble is enough to jolt me in my tracks.
Flashes of lightning penetrate the room, illuminating his well-proportioned features.
Patters begin to acquaint themselves with the floor-to-ceiling windows as the wind dances with outdoor trees — influencing the ever-changing movements of their branches.
Looks like the thunderstorm is here to stay.
"If that's all," he trails off before taking retreating steps, "I'm off,"
The fact that he's considering driving when there's a thunderstorm is unfathomable.
"Wait," I proclaim, "I think it'll be safe for you to drive once the weather clears. Thunderstorms are dangerous."
He pauses as his back faces me.
For what seems like an eternity, he doesn't say a word.
"I'm sure I can handle a thunderstorm," he declares in irritation, "And unless you don't have any handcuffs to restrain me, I'm leaving now."
Maybe it's the particular nonchalant behavior he radiates today or his refusal to listen to reasoning that compels me to lose my temper.
"Fine," I snap, "if you wanna risk your life by potentially getting hit by a lightning bolt, be my bloody guest."
I don't wait for his response before climbing the stairs.
༄ ༄ ༄
Once in my room, I rummage into my closet dressing room to find a suitable dress.
Tedious minutes pass before I end up finding something presentable.
I almost forgot the dress existed since not once did I wear it in public.
The high-neck dark red satin gown isn't too revealing but shows enough skin to provoke one's thoughts with its split on the side.
After getting dressed, I style my hair into defined and voluminous curls, allowing my frontal triple cornrows to stand out.
By the time I finish applying my makeup, I barely recognize myself in the mirror.
The dark glitter eyeshadow makes me look like an entirely different person.
If it wasn't for my light lip gloss, I'd look lethal.
If I manage to scare Roman off, it's his loss.
After checking the weather forecast, I exit my room.
It looks like the storm is subsiding in five minutes.
By the time I arrive in the living area, I suddenly forget to breathe.
Despite the countless thoughts racing through my mind, no words manage to escape the tip of my tongue.
The one person I expected to have left by now is making himself right at home as he's lounging on my sofa with his laptop positioned on his lap.
The contact of my heels against the wooden floor is enough to grasp his attention.
As soon as his eyes land on me, I freeze.
All my senses come alive as the organ that lies beneath my ribcage is revitalized.
He's looking at me in a completely different way than how he's been regarding me the whole night.
It's like the only trace of emotion I can decipher on his face are through his piercing eyes.
And it's not the stoic nor cold kind I'm referring to.
He springs up as he refuses to unglue his penetrating stare from mine.
I fidget; as though every cell in my veins is craving his attention or rather more of it.
"I thought you left," I'm the first to speak to break the excruciating silence.
He takes approaching steps towards me, causing my mind to lose it.
"I figured worrying you to death was not an optimal option," his voice is dangerously gruff.
Despite doing my best to avoid his commanding gaze, I fall short.
With knitted brows, I fold my arms, "I wasn't worried to death."
A glint of mirth clouds his hypnotic eyes, "Whatever makes you sleep at night."
I manage to roll my eyes.
"Off to a party?" he goes for a less intruding question as he gives my body a once over.
There's no doubt in my mind the temperature of the room increased to hundred degrees.
The sudden need to keep my whereabouts private dominates.
But knowing how he's bound to find out either way, I disclose,
"I have a date,"
And just as fast as his playful gaze appeared, it disappears in an instant.
And just like that, I'm familiarized with the stoic and vehement expression that crosses his features.
After all the words he spat at me that night, I should be satisfied by his reaction. Ecstatic even.
But I'm not.
Expecting an insult or better yet, an outrage from him, I get the surprise of my life when he doesn't say a word.
All he does is tighten his jaw before pivoting.
As soon as he yanks his laptop from the sofa in silence, he heads to the exit.
As I watch his retreating back, it's as if a part of me is still holding onto the expectation that he'd react in the way I would expect him to.
But he doesn't.
For all he says is,
"Looks like the storm has cleared so you wouldn't want to keep him waiting."
༄ ༄ ༄
Did she just. . .double update? Why yes, she did.
How do you think Anaya's date with Roman will go?
I've received some very thoughtful messages from you guys and I want to thank y'all so much for the support. Reading your kind and very encouraging messages motivates me to keep writing the story.
I hope you're all doing well, love y'all.