Chapter 6

• MEREDITH:
• Things did not end well for me as I got home. Already the day had been annoying and overwhelming, coupled with the fact that I had to deal with that homeless-robe-wearing girl. My goodness! I wish a bottle of wine would take away the discomfort. Before I even found my keys, trying to reach a source of joy, an envelope caught my eye. The caption didn't fascinate me. It reminded me of the reason I had almost drowned myself in tears today. It read, 'Eviction Notice!!!' boldly written in red.
• There was no point reading it because it won't change the moment. So, I shredded it into pieces and dumped it. I took a deep breath and prepared my mind to get all the sleep I could for tonight because soon, I would be losing a roof over my head.
• It felt like the alarm started blaring immediately my aching body found comfort on the bed, but it turned out that I had slept for a long. I turned the noise off and wrapped a robe around my body to go get my mail. That was very important. I still had hopes that someone got back to me. It wasn't that bad. Right? One of the companies must.
• Lost among the five mails that all had nothing to do with a source of credit but debit. One, in particular, caught my attention. A lawsuit. What? I know I have been a great girl, to even the least thing as not earning a parking ticket because keeping my record clean was crucial to me. Where did a lawsuit come from, and in less than twenty-four hours?
• I ripped the seal open and the content. It was something about trespassing and damaging properties. I was given two options to either pay a hundred thousand dollars fine or work for hours that will be equivalent to that amount. Failure to do so would attract three weeks in prison and six months of probation. The victim in question was someone called Miles Pierce.
• I thought long and hard to recollect who Miles Pierce was. The only time I heard Pierce was Pierce Avenue that I went. . .hold on a minute! The broken flower vase? Was that the damaged property that brought about such fine? I burst into laughter. Both the legal team that drafted this and that arrogant jerk that went ahead to inform his boss, and the boss himself that didn't confirm what happened before taking action, are unbelievable. If I had such an amount, half of my problems would be solved.
• Well, I guess today wasn't going to go well. Pierce Avenue would be my first stop. I needed to resolve this.
• I was quick to get ready and head out. Getting to the entrance, I was refused entrance. “Well, how do you expect me to confront your boss for unjustly filing a lawsuit over a broken flower vase? Moreover, I wasn't trespassing. I was asked to attend an interview here. How in the universe is that trespassing?”
• “I don't care. I have told you that you can't drive in, ma'am. Please leave. You're interfering with my job,” a new face that I hadn't seen yesterday scolded. This one doesn't look different. All the guards looked like they'd been made in the same factory.
• “I'm not leaving until I see that asshole in a robe. Or, better still, Mr. Miles Pierce,” I protested, slamming my hands on my steering wheel.
• The guard scoffed in frustration and moved away from me, tending to ignore my request. Of course, I wasn't having that. I began to honk tirelessly until he started stomping toward me again.
• “If my request is not granted, I'll continue to constitute a nuisance until you all get frustrated. There's no way in hell I would speak up for myself!”
• “Then take the matter to court,” he bitterly spat. “I would be forced to remove you and your car with whatever resource at my disposal. You're making my job difficult.”
• “Well, your boss is making my life miserable!” It wasn't the guard's fault, that I get. But, I need access to go deal with the document in my purse.
• After twenty minutes of argument and relentlessly insisting, “I guess your stubbornness paid off,” the guard said with a frown, ordering for the gates to be opened.
• With fury, I drove without a smile or caring to be nice to the innocent guards, straight to the entrance. When I got there, Brandon, the cute guard who I wouldn't forget his face and name in a hurry, was waiting for me at the entrance. He led me inside, and the disaster that brought me here almost repeated itself; me tripping and damaging something due to the beauty of the house.
• “You'll have to wait for him here. Try not to break anything,” Brandon warned.
• “What’s going on here?” said a cold voice.
• The hush was instant.
• I turned—and met piercing dark-blue eyes.
• I’d never seen dark-blue eyes before. I’d seen blue on the verge of sky blue, but never pitch, true dark blue—outside of fictional characters possessed by demons. This man had them: deep blue eyes.
• It took me a moment to wrench my gaze away and see the man those eyes belonged to. It was the robe guy, but he looked different. Almost unrecognizable. Tall. Immaculate gray suit hugging the broad shoulders. Dark hair, and finely shaped, heavy brows made his hawk-like gaze rather unsettling.
• There was something distinctly Mediterranean about his looks—Italian or Spanish, maybe Greek. The dimple on his cheeks was the only thing softening his appearance, but it only served to accentuate the hard, square line of his jaw.
• From the way the man held himself, it was like he was someone important. He practically reeked of power and money, but I didn’t recognize that. To be honest, the image stuck in my head was him in a robe looking like a cleaner.
• Entirely unprepared for the physical impact of the man, I ceased to breathe. Brandon, the expansive sitting room, and all my problems just seemed to melt into the background, and I was conscious only of him.
• His tarnished attitude had caused my mind to conjure up physical images that were so far removed from reality that for a moment, I couldn’t do anything except stare, as hundreds of women had undoubtedly stared before me.
• “Why wouldn't you leave?” he spoke, his voice steady and cold.
• The vibration of that voice, once more, drained whatever admiration I had for him. So proud. So arrogant. So nasty.
• “I'm here to meet Mr. Miles Pierce.”
• “For? He doesn't talk to people like you.”
• “What do you mean by people like me?” Reaching for the document in my purse, I flung it open and drew it to his eye level so that he could read. “Maybe he would like to explain to me what this means.”
• “I'm pretty sure you don't have difficulty comprehending the grammar. As it is stated, you either pay that fine or work for what you damaged.”
• I knew talking to this guy was a waste of energy. It was better to talk to Mr. Pierce himself. Maybe he would be a grumpy old man, but still, I would work my way around him and make him see reasons.
• “Again, I want--"
• “Mr. Pierce?” the same female that stood close to him the previous day appeared. Man, did this woman age backward because she was so pretty?
• I turned in her direction, expecting to see Mr. Pierce. But, to my bewilderment, the guy before me answered. “Yes, Grenada.”
• There was no way in hell he was the person I was looking for.
• “You were saying?” he questioned, quirking his brows and placing both hands in his well-tailored suit pants.
• “Oh, I see you're back. The flower girl,” the Grenada woman teased. “It's nice to have you back,” she said, stretching forth her hand for a shake.
• Immediately, I took it and flushed. 'Flower girl?' What an interesting nomenclature. “Nice to meet you. I'm Meredith Tate.”
• “Just call me Grenada.”
• “Are you done with your pleasantries, his voice boomed. “ You,” he pointed at me, “leave. Come back with a lawyer if you feel unjustly accused. Grenada, you called.” His face held no emotions, and he spoke as if he was a robot.
• “I'll talk to you when you're done with her. It can wait. Again, nice to meet you, Meredith. See you around.”
• “Thank you.” 'See me around?' That was questionable.
• As Grenada left, Miles turned to follow, and I abruptly loaded, “I'll take the job. I'll work until my debt is paid.” It was a reflex action, though. I have thought about the stress of filing for an appeal and the slim chance of winning it. And, if I lost, this egocentric being would look for ways to make me more miserable. It was best to give in to what he wanted. Be his slave until my debt is paid. To my advantage, too, I might get a roof over my head and free feeding. If only he would want me to be a live-in assistant.
• He stopped in his track. “Good. You start now.”
• “Does that mean--”
• He walked out, not paying any more attention to me. Great! I better brace myself because this was going to be life-sucking. There were no two ways about that.