"Rei? Rei? REI!" Cyra's voice pierced through the haze of my thoughts with a mix of irritation and concern.
"Uh… yeah?" I blinked and refocused, turning to face her while signaling for her to continue.
"You called me earlier, saying you'd stumbled upon something important about Mr. Cruel. But now you're just sitting here, lost in your own world," she said, her tone a blend of frustration and impatience. She drummed her fingers on the table, her pen scribbling distractedly in the margins of her notebook.
"Yeah," I began, pulling out the photo from my phone and handing it to her. "I went to the airport looking for any leads on Mr. Cruel and came across someone who matches all his features perfectly."
Cyra took a look at the photo and scrutinized it closely, her eyes narrowing as she examined the details. "Hmm... green eyes, red hair, and that unusual style. He even has a bodyguard," she murmured, her fingers expertly zooming in on the image..
"So, what's the plan to track him down?" she asked, glancing up with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"I'll handle tracking him down, but that's not the main reason I called you," I said, waiting for her to respond.
"Spit it out, lady," Cyra replied with a hint of sarcasm. I couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever use that tone with Kaius.
"Well, Denver…" I began, my voice almost a whisper as I recalled his recent attempt to kiss me. "I think he likes me too."
Cyra's eyes widened in interest as she leaned in closer. "Denver likes you? How can you be so sure?"
"He… tried to kiss me,like" I said, hesitating as I demonstrated how he had leaned in, only to suddenly pull away.
"Whoa, that's big news!" Cyra exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Don't overthink it. Maybe he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, or he simply didn't want to rush things."
Her explanation was surprisingly comforting and made sense, easing some of the uncertainty I had been feeling.
.
.
.
I parked my car at the airport, quickly closing the windows before grabbing my laptop. After several minutes of breaching numerous firewalls, I finally gained access to the airport's security cameras.
A smirk crossed my face as my fingers flew over the keyboard with purpose. Just as I was about to review the footage from the date I'd identified, my concentration was abruptly shattered by a knock on my window.
I snapped my laptop shut and lowered the window to find a security guard standing beside my car.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but this is a no-parking area," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle and kind.
I offered him an apologetic smile before shifting my car to a legitimate parking spot among the other vehicles.
Once I had settled in, I retrieved my laptop and resumed my work, determined to pick up where I left off.
And finally I spot him .I went to the airport entrance footage as I rewind a bit , he got out of a black car , I zoomed in and noted the number from the number plate , just as I was about to go deeper the laptop went off as banged the steering wheel with annoyance.
I instantly called Faye,
"Hey, I need your help," I said, keeping my voice terse and to the point. "I'll send you a car's license plate number. I need you to track down who purchased it."
"Sure thing," she replied, her tone brisk and efficient. "Give me two hours."
With that, she ended the call, leaving me to lean back in my seat with a weary sigh. The minutes ticked by slowly as I waited, my mind racing through the possibilities of what might come next.
.
.
Nine hours had gone, and Faye still hadn't reached out to me. I tried to keep myself occupied, tackling small tasks and distractions, but my thoughts stubbornly refused to stray from two things: Mr. Cruel and Denver.
I found myself repeatedly drifting back to thoughts of Denver—wondering what he might be doing at that very moment.
Was he engrossed in work, enjoying a meal, or simply winding down for the night? My mind raced with these questions, each thought more vivid than the last.
It was as if every small detail of his day had become a puzzle I desperately wanted to solve.
Meanwhile, the shadow of Mr. Cruel loomed large in my thoughts, a constant reminder of the urgency of our situation.
But despite the pressing matters at hand, my mind kept circling back to Denver, replaying every moment we'd shared and imagining every possible scenario.
I sighed in frustration, realizing how caught up I was in my feelings. It felt absurd—like I was nothing more than a lovesick puppy, hopelessly preoccupied with someone who had managed to invade my thoughts so thoroughly.
my thoughts broke as my phone buzzed on the table displaying Faye's name.