Mila's POV
The hours dragged on in this claustrophobic space, with nothing to focus on but the unsettling gaze of Mr. Harris.
"So, when the plane landed and I finally stepped onto the sidewalk, I thought I could breathe again. The fresh air of this new city swept across my face, and I couldn't help but smile."
I sighed, lost in the serenity of the moment. The buzz of the city, the promise of something new, it felt so freeing. But then—"Miss Brown!" Mr. Harris's voice snapped me back to reality.
His words hit me like a cold gust of wind. I glanced up, seeing the irritation etched across his face. His fists clenched, his body stiff with anger.
"I'm so sorry, Sir," I mumbled, quickening my pace to escape his simmering fury, feeling the heat of his anger radiating behind me.
This trip was going to be hell. I sighed inwardly, my shoulders heavy with the weight of what was to come.
Finally, I exited the airport, and there it was— a chauffeur holding up a sign with Mr. Harris's name. I rushed over, eager to put distance between myself and my tormentor.
"Are you here for Mr. Harris of Harris Construction?" I asked, needing to be sure.
The man nodded, opening the door and gesturing for me to get in. The sky was darkening, the first drops of rain beginning to fall.
I was about to slide into the car when Mr. Harris's voice cut through the air.
"You're taking a taxi."
His command was sharp, final.
I froze, turning to face him, confusion and frustration bubbling up. "But, sir—"
"How many times must I tell you?" He stepped closer, his voice low and menacing. "Never question my orders, Miss Brown."
I opened my mouth, but words refused to come. My frustration was suffocating, and as usual, the familiar routine took over.
"Yes, Mr. Harris," I murmured, stepping aside to let him get into the car.
"I need you at the hotel in 20 minutes," he barked, slamming the door shut before I could respond.
I stood there, watching the car disappear into the thickening fog. My mind raced. How am I supposed to navigate a city I've never been to before?
Minutes passed, the chill in the air creeping under my skin. No taxis in sight. The day was fading, the storm inching closer.
"Fuck you, Mr. Harris!" I screamed, my anger bubbling over as I wished for some divine intervention.
And just like that, a taxi pulled up, the headlights cutting through the dark like a beacon.
"Miss, do you need a ride?" The driver's deep British accent sent a wave of relief through me.
"Yes, please," I squealed, rushing to the car, barely able to contain my relief as I sank into the seat.
"So, where am I taking you, ma'am?" he asked, turning to look at me.
"Baglioni Hotel," I replied, a smile creeping onto my face as I finally allowed myself to relax.
The ride was smooth, the rain starting to pour outside. I rested my head against the headrest, staring out at the city, mesmerized by its glowing lights. The London Bridge gleamed like something out of a dream, and I couldn't help but smile at how surreal it all felt.
But as quickly as the excitement came, it was replaced by the familiar irritation. Mr. Harris...
Why did he have to be so cruel? So determined to make my life miserable? How could anyone be this heartless?
"Who does he think he is?" I muttered aloud, frustration bubbling inside me. The driver glanced at me in surprise, but I didn't care.
I needed to vent. I had to.
"Ma'am… we've arrived."
I snapped out of my thoughts and nodded, plastering a smile on my face as I handed the driver his fare. Stepping out into the cool night air, I couldn't shake the weight in my chest. The hotel loomed before me, its lights shining like a beacon in the dark.
I walked through the lobby, scanning the area for any sign of Mr. Harris. Thankfully, there was none. My body relaxed for the first time today. I didn't want to deal with him, not now.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I approached the receptionist, thankful for a moment of peace.
"Reservation under Harris Construction?" the blonde receptionist asked, looking up at me.
I nodded.
"Room 345," she said, handing me the key. "Take the elevator to the second floor."
I smiled in gratitude and made my way to the elevator, pressing the button for the second floor. When I arrived, I searched for my room, growing more frustrated as the minutes passed.
Finally, with the help of a staff member, I found it. To my surprise, it was on the presidential floor.
Wait, what? I didn't book the presidential suite.
Confusion washed over me, but I was too exhausted to care. I'd figure it out tomorrow.
As I reached for the door, it swung open, revealing none other than Mr. Harris himself—dressed in a black tank top, his muscles rippling with every movement.
I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Our rooms are opposite?
I was supposed to be as far from him as possible. This couldn't be happening.
He stood there, arms folded, his eyes dark and unreadable.
I couldn't look at him. His presence was suffocating. The silence between us stretched on, thick with tension.
"You were supposed to be here in 20 minutes, Miss Brown. Do you need me to remind you of your duties?"
His voice was low and dangerous, and suddenly, my irritation flared into full-blown anger.
"Oh, for goodness sake..." I snapped. "You left me in a strange city to find my way around! I was almost drenched by the rain! How heartless can you be?"
I could see the fire in his eyes, and for a moment, fear overtook me. But before I could back away, he closed the distance between us with one long stride.
My back hit the cold wall. I was trapped.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice low and demanding.
I lifted my head, meeting his gaze, though every inch of my body screamed to look away. His eyes were intense, unreadable. I cursed under my breath, why does he have to look at me like that?
He smirked, his lips curling just slightly. It was a look that made my skin crawl.
"No one talks to me like that," he growled. "Got that, Miss Brown?"
Before I could respond, he slammed his hand against the wall beside me, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel my heart thundering in my chest, the fear and anger swirling inside me.
Desperation to stand my ground surged through me, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it up.
"You know what?" I spat, my words sharp with rage. "You're just an egotistical, narcissistic man."
I pushed past him, slamming my door shut behind me.
But even as the door clicked into place, I knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.