Tristan Knight
1009 Words
Knight's mansion...
Tristan Knight glances at his wristwatch for the fifth time, and he sighs briefly, crashing on the couch angrily. He has ordered his clothes to be taken care of by a laundry company that claimed to be capable of what they do, and now he has been waiting for his clothes to be delivered to him for thirty minutes, and they're yet to deliver them. Those people are annoying, and he would never take his clothes there again, never!
His name is Tristan Knight. The thirty-one years old young CEO of the famous movie industry, 'Key To Your Heart' in the Netherlands. An actor, a model, and a popular businessman that owns chains of companies in more than three countries. He is currently working on a new movie, and the audition is supposed to be in two hours. He needs to be there before it kicks start, but here he is, still waiting for those incompetent fools to deliver their clothes.
Standing up from the sparkling couch, he sighs briefly. Maybe wearing another cloth to the audition won't be a bad idea. Turning around to head to the grand staircase, the sound of the doorbell brings him to an abrupt halt. He walks over to the door and pulls it open, revealing Tracy.
"Who are you?" He snaps at her after giving her a hard glare.
"I'm the delivery girl, Sir. I'm sorry for coming late, I had to take care of something at home," She explains nervously, as her hands trembles. Her gaze is everywhere else except his face. She is too nervous to look at him, knowing how angry he would be now.
"Return the clothes to your boss and tell him to make the transfer to my account. I'm sending him my account details. The clothes cost nothing less than twelve thousand dollars," He says to her like the money he just called was nothing. Hearing this from him, Tracy realized the trouble that she just got herself into. It was her fault that she came late, or maybe Tatiana's fault. Returning the clothes to her boss is as good as paying the money. Where will she get that kind of money from? Even if she decides to work herself to a stupor, five years of hard work won't raise the money for her.
"It hasn't gotten to that, Sir. It was my fault that I came late..."
"Good thing. Where's your phone? Are you going to pay the money in cash or transfer?" He asks her, now leaning against the door and glaring hard at the dirty thing standing in front of her. How the heck did she even get past the security at the gate? She's too dirty to be in his mansion.
"I...I... I don't have..." For the first time, she finally raises her gaze to see the person she has been talking with, but her mouth drops open in shock at the sight that welcomes her. She didn't expect to see the popular actor in person, not for once in her life. She bats her eyelashes a few times to wake up from the dream if it is but turns out that she's not dreaming. Tristan is really standing in front of her. When her boss told her to deliver the clothes, he only gave her the address, and she didn't know that she would end up there.
Recalling the bad rumors she heard about this handsome man before, her heart sinks into her stomach. She's doomed for real this time.
"I don't want to see you when I come out here. I give you forty-eight hours to refund the money, else, you'll find hours behind bars in seventy-two hours," He says to her with seriousness resounding in his voice. And with that, he walks back into the room and slams the door on her face, causing her to flinch.
"Sir... Sir... Can you please listen to me? It wasn't intentional, OK?" She knocks on the door a few times before she finally gives up. It seems like she'll only be wasting her time if she stays back here.
She glances back at the house for the last time before she walks away.
Standing at the roadside a few minutes later and waiting for a cab that'll take her back to her workplace, her phone suddenly starts ringing. It's a strange number that appeared on the screen. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, keeping the phone back in her pocket. Her day is already ruined, and taking a call from a stranger now is the last thing she wants.
"Nick's laundry house," She says to the fifth cabby that just hauled in front of her, and the cab quickly zooms off.
"What's happening?" She asks herself, running her fingers through her frustratingly. She has been standing here for almost fifteen minutes, waiting for a cab, but it seems like she's never going to get one.
Her phone rings again, and she snorts angrily, bringing it out of her pocket.
"Isn't it too early to disturb my peace? What is it?" She snaps angrily at whoever the caller is.
"Hello, ma'am. Are you miss Tracy Wilson?" The unfamiliar masculine voice sounds from the other end, and she rolls her eyes.
"Yes. How may I help you?" She asks casually, looking left and right in search of a cab.
"This is doctor Raymond Thompson, calling from the Health Elite clinic. We found that you're related to miss Tatiana Wilson..." Her heart skips a million times when she hears her sister's name. She gulps down nothing nervously as she suddenly feels her heart pumping heavily against her chest. Although the person hasn't said anything, but hearing the name of a hospital makes her heart quivers in fear.
"Wha...what happened to Tatiana? Is she OK? Where is she, please?" She asks with a cracking voice after she gulps down another lump.
"You need to show up at the hospital now. Your sister is in danger," Hearing this again, her mouth drops open in shock...
- Writer
