An unknown area, unknown people, shame, guilt, pain—That's what Shaine felt, being tied up and interrogated by a man of black business and a nobody woman whose dominance was established by holding a paring knife.
"I was not part of any of the schemes that happened inside that company."
It didn't look convincing—for Sharmaine at least. "How am I supposed to believe that?" She arched her brow up upward, making a serious face. The story was not connecting up well—either Shaine was lying or someone else did it; she picked the latter.
"Then why don't you investigate it yourself instead of asking me for details that I don't know."
No matter how much urge she felt to plunge the knife to her throat, she calmed herself down because of the thought—she did not want to kill a possibly innocent person. She pulled back her knife and left the room. Ivan, despite of the ruthless person that he is, let go of Shaine.
"You shouldn't mess with her," he said as he untied her hands.
"Why?" The atmosphere tensed up. What was he supposed to say, because she was intriguing?
He slowly made his way to the door, glancing Shaine with menace. "Maybe because I have found her to be a perfect candidate," he said before leaving completely.
With no strength nor pride left, Shaine stared at herself in front of the mirror. She ran her fingers on the wounds Sharmaine created while enduring the pain from the pressure of her hand.
"Good grief, little b*tch."
—
Sharmaine stood in the middle of the modern kitchen, glancing down at the knife stained with blood. She wondered how sharp the blades were; the feeling of danger excited her heart. She giggled, and thought to herself that all of her rationality must've faded away.
"I shouldn't have done that to her," she whispered. If Shaine was really telling her the truth, then was it a good idea to ruin parts of her skin, granted that those wounds were only light and might not scar? If Shaine told her the possible truth, then she has to learn more information.
Ivan caught a glimpse of Sharmaine in the kitchen as he passed by his nanny's room. He wondered why was she standing still holding the same knife she used to threaten Shaine. Pictures of the badass Sharmaine flooded his mind; seeing her in deep thought made him approach her silently.
"Hey, what's on your mind?"
Sharmaine snapped back to the reality upon hearing Ivan. "Wow, I never thought that you'll be so considerate." She smiled at the thought of him asking her what she pondered because frankly, she questioned it herself. That sudden change in attitude surprised her.
"Considerate? Are you sure about that?" he smirked and gazed towards her back, "You're being generous with your words." He grabbed the flat side of the knife from her hand and gently laid it on the counter top.
"Well, I am always that generous," she turned around, facing the tall man in front of her whilst she fidgeted her fingers, "Thanks by the way . . . for not telling Denzel and helping me get answers."
Ivan kept his smirked while taking long strides towards her and leaning his hand over the counter. A few steps closer, he could almost kiss her. "Why did you invest too much time tormenting that woman? Frankly, you should be careful with your actions."
She paused to think why. "Well, I thought that playing a little game with her was fun, don't you think so?" she said in a quick and emotionless tone. If she were to obtain more information, it might be easier with the man who stood inches away from her; it was a cruel idea.