Chapter Nine
899 Words
Jairo's already irritated mood spiked when he entered his house and met the uninvited guest.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he spat, his tone sharp and dangerous. She wasn’t just trespassing but using his father's influence.
Eloise stood up quickly and walked toward him. She had been waiting up to an hour. Donald also came into view.
“Asking for permission wouldn’t have worked, but I had to come. How you doing?” she asked with a nervous smile, aiming for a hug.
But Jairo had other plans. He grabbed her wrist tightly, his grip hard enough to make her flinch.
“One of these days, I’m going to put a bullet through your skull,” he muttered and shoved her backward. He hates it when she does this. Acting as if they were lovers.
Eloise stumbled, trying to keep the frustration rising in her chest calm. His hostility kept increasing whenever they meet.
“What would you have me do then?” She asked softly then raised her voice, “Like, what is it about me that makes you hate me so much? Why are you such a pain in the ass when I’m just trying to get to know my fiancé?”
That triggered him.
“Watch the way you talk to me if you want to keep your tongue,” he growled, “What kind of courage did it take to team up with that old bastard and drug me?”
“I just wanted answers!” she cried, stepping toward him. “You won’t talk to me, you push me away, and I thought maybe i-it’s about s****l orientation then… I could finally understand where all this coldness is coming from.” She lamented, “I'm sorry if I upset you but I just wanted...” she bit her lips, unable to complete her words.
Eloise had known Jairo since college days. First time she saw him in the dorms, it was love at first sight. But he had a girlfriend then, before the news of her being kidnapped spread like wildfire in school.
She thought she could finally have him, help him through his denial stage that his lover was gone but he kept pushing her away. Eloise went as far as making her father find a way to arrange a marriage with Salvatore Vitale — which wasn't easy.
Yet, Jairo didn't see her efforts and had never treated her like a fianceé in their three years of engagement.
His expression didn’t change when he heard her.
“You’ll get your answers, Eloise Webster. I’m calling off the engagement. Whatever comes after, I’ll deal with it.” He brushed past her, after saying this.
She froze.
“Wait, what? Jairo—!” she called out, chasing him and grabbed his wrist.
“What are you talking about? You can't just..” he yanked his hands from her hold as if she was a plague, his cold eyes made her freeze before he climbed up the stairs.
Her heart dropped as he walked away. He meant it. Didn't he think about the clause?
Whoever calls off the engagement — or filed for divorce once married — that person would forfeit fifty percent of their company’s shares to the other.
Her hands trembled as she fumbled through her purse to call her father.
Upstairs, Jairo stripped off his shirt, tossing it onto the bed. He grabbed a towel but stopped when Donald entered, brows knit in frustration.
“That was reckless,” Donald said, crossing his arms.
“I don’t need you worrying about what I do. Your job is to handle what follows,” he replied coldly. “Eloise will take her shares,” he added, but Donald didn’t let him finish.
“We’re not letting that happen.” his tone tightened. “Your father is already breathing down our necks and the old Dons are getting shaky. She’s the damn thread holding this bridge together. You think now’s the time to play martyr?”
Jairo stared at him long and hard, then stepped close.
“You do what I say,” he said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “She wants the shares? Fine. Let her take them. I can't even stand her.”
Donald exhaled frustratedly, “Wait, is this about Emilia?”
At that, Jairo snapped.
“Don’t ask me stupid questions and don’t say her name again.” He snapped, “Hand over the house options. From now on, I’m handling everything about her myself. I don’t want to risk anything.”
Donald frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Just do what I say goddamnit!” Jairo bellowed.
Donald exhaled slowly, jaw tight. Talking to him now was pointless. He seems upset with something. He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
Alone, Jairo stared at the wall, chest heaving.
He wasn’t just angry, he was rattled. His paranoia was coming from Donald's gentleness with women. He doesn't want to have creepy thoughts of his woman and second-hand together. He can't take risks and he fears Kara sees Donald as a more gentleman than he was. ‘Cause why the fvck would she ask him to say hi to him?
With a sharp sigh, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured a glass. He needed to calm his damn nerves.
- Writer
