Monday morning arrived, bringing with it the monotonous routine that had become all too familiar over the past month. I yearned for the days when I could simply relax in my office and bask in the glory of my success, without the burdensome tasks that had been assigned to me lately. As a biochemist at JO's Corp, a renowned non-profit organization, I typically focused on studying the effects of chemicals on medical issues like cancer, aging, and obesity. However, my current assignment was a departure from my expertise and a source of frustration.
Letting out a loud yawn, I removed my protective goggles and discarded the gloves into the trash. The weekend had been particularly grueling, leaving me feeling drained and in need of a break.
"Time for a break!" Samantha, my coworker, exclaimed, clapping her hands in her characteristically exuberant manner. Her enthusiasm only worsened my pounding headache.
The lab instantly erupted with cheers, and within seconds, it was empty, except for Samantha and me.
"Aren't you coming, Lora?" Samantha inquired, her face full of freckles getting a little too close for comfort.
I groaned and pushed her face away.
"You don't look so good. Want me to give you a massage?" Samantha offered with a saccharine smile.
Rolling my eyes, I sighed, knowing there was always a catch with Samantha. "What do you want in return?"
"Buy me lunch," she replied promptly, her desperation thinly veiled.
"If people didn't know you, they'd think you're a starving woman in need. Why do you sound so desperate?" I quipped, studying her face for any telltale signs.
She shrugged nonchalantly. "No reason at all."
I scrutinized her further, aware that Samantha always had an ulterior motive behind her actions.
"Fine, let's go to your office. We can't do it here," I acquiesced.
"Why my office?" Samantha questioned suspiciously. "Is there someone you're trying to avoid?"
"No, your office just has a more relaxing view. Hurry up now, before I change my mind about buying you lunch," I retorted, coaxing her to lead the way.
Ten minutes later, we settled into Samantha's office.
"So, tell me, how was your weekend?" Samantha inquired after sharing tales of her own weekend escapades.
Leaning back in my seat, I couldn't help but steal a glance at Samantha. Her bright smile, a radiant beam of warmth, momentarily blinded me, yet I found myself captivated by its infectious charm. Her presence in the room was like a spotlight, effortlessly drawing the attention of everyone around.
Samantha possessed a distinct allure, defined by her sharp and well-defined features that seemed to have been chiseled by an artist with meticulous precision. Her almond-shaped eyes, framed by long, graceful lashes, held a certain depth that hinted at a wellspring of emotions. They were a mesmerizing shade of hazel, resembling a fusion of deep amber and rich green, reflecting the complexities of her personality.
Her sculpted cheekbones, graceful arcs that gracefully caught the light, added a touch of elegance to her appearance. They played a subtle dance with the light in the room, casting delicate shadows that accentuated her already striking features.
Samantha's finely arched eyebrows perfectly framed her eyes, carrying an air of sophistication that resonated with her confident demeanor. Her lips, a soft and inviting shade of rose, curved into that bright smile, revealing teeth that seemed to gleam like pearls against her flawless complexion.
Comparing myself, I realized I might not fit the mold of conventional beauty that Samantha seemed to effortlessly embody. My features were softer, less defined, and perhaps less striking. Yet, I also recognized that beauty was a tapestry woven from various threads, each with its own unique charm and appeal. My unassuming appearance held its own stories, its own moments of vulnerability and strength, which together formed a narrative that was just as captivating in its own right.
My dark brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, and my curly dark brown hair were testaments to my Greek heritage, while my cinnamon-brown complexion hailed from my African roots. With an oval face and high cheekbones, not to mention a beautiful set of white teeth, I had won my fair share of beauty pageants.
However, I rarely discussed my complicated family background. I was aware that I was 55% African, 35% Greek, and 15% Japanese, but the mystery surrounding my biological father and my adoption made it a sensitive topic.
Yet, thanks to the wonders of the 21st century, I had managed to uncover these details about my heritage.
Samantha had jokingly remarked that I had the looks of a Greek goddess but lacked the fierce demeanor and weaponry. Although I didn't let her flattery go to my head, I acknowledged that I had my own unique attractiveness. However, I made a conscious effort to avoid unnecessary attention, even though as a shareholder in a globally recognized company, evading the prying eyes of reporters was a constant challenge. Thankfully, my life remained relatively ordinary, as very few people were aware of my true status within the organization.
"If I told you how my weekend went, you wouldn't believe it," I said, gazing out of Samantha's office window, which boasted a breathtaking view she seemed oblivious to.
Samantha beamed at me once again. "Try me."
Taking a deep breath, I began recounting every minute detail of my encounter with the mysterious individual, sparing no unnecessary information.
After sharing my story, Samantha erupted into fits of laughter, as she often did. It was no surprise to me. Samantha had a knack for finding humor in every situation. We were best friends for a reason—we connected on so many levels, loving and hating the same things, and our energies aligned perfectly.
"Jesus, Lora, is it story-time again? Did you dream this up or did you pick it from a movie?" Samantha teased.
She was the only one who called me Lora, claiming that the extra "a" in my name was too much effort for her lazy tongue.
I swore on my grandmother's life that I wasn't lying, but Samantha still didn't believe me. She always thought I was a compulsive liar.
"Oh, so we're playing that game today, huh?" Samantha smirked. "Alright, let me refresh your memory with all the lies you told last week," she continued, breathing rapidly as she recited falsehoods from even a month ago.
"That's enough!" I yelled. "Okay, fine, I admit I lie sometimes—most of the time," I quickly added when I saw the disbelief on Samantha's face.
"Now you understand why it's difficult for me to believe you," Sam said. "Besides, who befriends someone who admits to trying to kill you? If your story is true, that guy is dangerous. Okay? Dangerous. Stay away from people like that. They'll only use and hurt you in the end."
I was amazed at how serious Samantha was. She was usually all about fooling around, which was why we became friends in the first place. We shared so many similarities, except for the lying part. Samantha was a devoutly religious woman.
"Well, that means you believe me," I said, wiggling my eyebrows. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to marry him or something. This is reality, not a historical novel where the once-upon-a-time villain becomes a hero because of a certain heroine."
Samantha raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that said she couldn't comprehend how I had turned the conversation into a romantic novel analogy.
"Alright, enough storytelling," Samantha declared. "I'm starving, and we have less than an hour. Let's go to Five Guys and get something good."
"Who said we were going to Five Guys? That's too long of a drive. Let's just grab a bite at that coffee shop across the street," I suggested.
"Lora, my stomach deserves more than that," she protested.
"I know you don't care about the burger itself. You're after something else. If you don't agree, we can just stay here instead."
"No, no, let's go. I don't like that you manipulate me. I don't like you at all," Samantha pouted like a child.
As we were about to leave her office, Samantha's phone rang, and a mischievous grin formed on my face. I knew she was about to get caught up in something, and I wouldn't have to buy her lunch.
She noticed my smile and gestured to me while speaking on the phone, indicating that I still owed her lunch. I pretended not to see anything and quickly made my escape.
My own phone vibrated in my pocket, and I let out a groan. I answered without bothering to check the caller ID, assuming it was Jane about to assign me some task, and shouted into the phone, "I'm on break!"
"That's exactly why I'm calling you," a calm voice replied.
Oh, shoot!
"Hey, gramps. I'm busy right now. Can I call you back later?" I replied hastily.
"No, you're not. I just spoke to your secretary, and she said your schedule is clear
clear for the day," my grandmother informed me.
Why did that annoying secretary of mine have to blabber about my schedule all the time? I might as well fire her.
"Fine, you caught me. What do you want?" I asked, trying to sound as annoyed as possible.
"That's not the way to talk to your elder, you brat! Come over to the mansion now. Jeremiah is here, and he agreed to marry you," my grandmother announced.
I scoffed, "You can't be serious. I thought you had given up on this ridiculous matchmaking."
"You should be grateful that a fine young man like him agreed to marry you. No one else will be willing to marry a wild, uncultured woman like you."
"You'll be surprised, Grandmother, that's the type of woman men actually desire. They want a WILD woman," I retorted, emphasizing the word "wild" with a different meaning in mind. She clearly understood my implication, as there was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.
I braced myself, silently snickering.
"Hurry back now," was all she say and she commanded in her most authoritative voice before abruptly ending the call.
I glared angrily at my phone, frustrated by her controlling nature. Why does she always have to meddle with my life?