Chapitre 5: HIS ARRANGED FIANCEE
The voice was indeed familiar but not who he thought could be. " Zaylee...?" He called to the ivory-toned young lady who stood over the couch. Her face lit with a warm welcoming smile as she waved in mid-air with a soft hi.
" What are you doing here?" Irish inquired in a deadpan gaze as he stepped in further. He didn't seem pleased to see her, it felt as if he just met his enemy. "...and how did you get in?"
His question quickly died off her smile. " You should make room for me to answer a question at a time~ that's what good manners is called." She sneered, sinking back into the Sofa.
Zaylee Kyle Kervins was Mr. Clinton Kervins, the Vice President of Cambridge's only daughter. She was, to quote, " the spoilt brat" of the Kervins.
Since she is the last of four kids, everything was at her disposal– all she needed was to request and in a blink, it would be.
" To see you of course, what else?." said Zaylee, sipping on her red wine. She looked more carefree and unbothered at all by his attitude. She was already used to it, all she wanted to do at the moment was to empty that sweet bottle on the table.
As a form of alliance and business formality, the Standfords who was in the name of Irish's father, agreed to marry off their son to gain Mr Clinton's favor to get him to invest in their company. At this point, there was a need for a sacrifice to be made.
This in a way, would channel potential and promising investors– both locally and internationally. It's just a way to put the company on the map, that's to say.
Although he wasn't in for such a game, yet, he was obliged to heed the wishes of his parent as the first and older son of the family. He was in love with someone else but to Mr. Stanford, that was a secondary matter~ business comes first. He made it known to him.
" At this hour?" He instinctively pointed at the clock and it was past 3 am. Irish simply couldn't bring himself to accept her attitude at any point – she even came without his notice. That was privacy invasion, he felt.
" Ethen gave me your passcode after I'd dropped him from school," She said to the first question, ignoring the latter. But then on an impulse, she rose to her full length.
In a short pace, she chanced to Irish who was by now standing right over her shoulders. A sluggish smile lined her face " At this hour?~" she scoffed. "~ sorry to burst your bubble, but, I think I was here much earlier before that. You're the one who was late" She pointed.
" Even though I wanted to ask where you've been, yet, I'd love to utilize this for something else..."
She smirked, her face drawn to his and her hands gently caressed down from his collar. " Knock it off, Zay..." He intuitively shoved off her hand in a rude jolt. But caught her mid-way, noticing she'd blackout. He knew from her breath how wasted she was and wasn't ready for any of this.
All he wanted was to take a long rest after a warm bath but now he had to deal with this wrecking booze. Her outfit merely told him where she'd been all night– she'd been out clubbing.
" Gosh...I curse my life at this point." Irish dreaded his fate. He hesitated for a moment but then, leaving her like that in the hall might cause her to catch a cold. He thought.
He sighed, scooping her into his arms, and then trod off toward the bedroom. There he gently laid her in bed and pulled the sheets over her.
Irish looked at her for a moment before heading off to the washroom. The droplets soon filled the silence as they touched the floor in rapid succession– his brain couldn't help but wander off to Phoneix.
CAMPBELL VILLA
" Was that really necessary, Del?" Berla eyed him critically. She sure wasn't in on him putting his life at risk like that. What if he had died?– this got to her.
Seeing how Irish had run out with Phoenix earlier, they knew their covers were totally blown. If a word of their affair got to Phone's parent, that would have been the end of her scholarship and even inheritance.
She was just an orphan who was adopted by Phoneix's aunty Baily and her husband who later passed away after a fatal accident. With nowhere to go, the Derricks took her in, and that's how she became her cousin.
" Of course, babe~ what else should I have done, seeing how he caught on us?" He groaned in pain and she felt it. " Sorry," she cried.
"...what if he'd rat us out to your aunt? I don't want to see you in pain". His words made a deep impression on her. Her heart moved over to him and tears filled out his eyes.
Del had intentionally run into a pole along the road and shot his right arm and leg to fake a robbery attack as an excuse to cut the chase.
" So sorry you have to go through all this because of me. " She busted into tears. "... if my fate weren't this bad you wouldn't~ "
He pulled her and clumsily hugged her, shutting her up before she could say more. " Hey...don't talk like that." He snugged her in and she felt secure for some reason.
The pain of his injury became numb for a moment but then kicked in right back. " Ah..." He groaned and she flinched. " Oh...my bad." She said and they chuckled.
With unwinding hope, they knew their plan had worked. Kalisa would come around in a few days. He's still the only one for Phoenix since no one was ready to marry a sickler like her. All they needed now was a new plan to tame her and get her property for themselves.
They knew her condition was incurable so even though she'd had an operation, the outcome would be the same. Berla wanted them to get rid of her themselves but Del wasn't ready to get blood on his hands.
" We can find other means to this than getting our hands messed up."
***************
For about 30 seconds, he waned and tossed restlessly in sleep. His forehead was soaked in cold sweat. He was thrown into one of those numerous nightmares again. Irish suffered this after the accident~ it had stopped for a while now but had started again.
In what seemed like forever, after a long struggle, he shot out of sleep– the sun's rays had hit his face from the glass door. Squinting in the process, he instinctively blocked it off with his hand.
The wild thumping in his chest had begun to ease and he felt his tensed muscles relax. Irish let out a heavy sigh, " That again..." He lamented. He checked and it was already past 8
am.
Irish had no knowledge as to when and how he had fallen asleep after hitting the sofa last dawn. All he could remember was returning to the hall after he'd washed down and that was all.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone