Emerald could undoubtedly vividly remember Oriana’s words of advice. She could irrefragably remember the emotions that had played out in her friend’s eyes as she said those words to her less than an hour ago.
Yet, what her friend had advised her to do was the exact opposite of what the man before her was telling her to do or maybe she didn’t hear him well, so she asked,
“I apologise. I think I spaced out while you responded. Please, can you repeat what you said?” she wanted to be certain she wasn’t hallucinating.
She began packing up the clinical equipment she had made use of to put them back into the first aid box when he responded.
“I said I wanted to live here,” he reiterated. Jordan wasn’t one to repeat himself. If you didn’t hear him speak the first time, his gun or dagger would be the one repeating his words. But today, for her, he would.
“Why?” Her grip tightened around the tweezers she had used to carefully pull out the tiny shards of glass that had embedded themselves into his knuckles. “Aren’t millionaires supposed to have something as fundamental as a house?”
She moved to rise to her feet when cold fingers wrapped around her warm wrist. In surprise, she turned her head to meet the eyes of their owner but he was looking down at her hands.
Firmly yet gently, he pried the metallic instrument out of her delicate hands before lifting her palm to his lips.
“I have to sterilise those. . .” her resistance died as quickly as her voice had disappeared in her throat when warm air from his mouth collided with her palm which had turned red from gripping the tweezers so harshly.
Inhaling sharply, she tried to close her palm on reflex but Jordan was quick to use his unbandaged hand to hold hers open.
As he continued to blow warm air while soothing her cotton-soft palm, he could feel her slowly relax against his touch as her breaths came out shallowly.
Emerald couldn’t help but ease into his touch. His cold hands were so soothing around her warm ones that she couldn’t help but relish the contrasting yet fitting temperature they emanated around her skin.
She looked at him. Really looked at the man seated before her. He was looking so peaceful as he delicately fondled her hand. She watched as a tendril of his raven black hair fell forward onto his forehead and she felt the irrepressible itch to take it away. To take away every thing that brought him discomfort.
Was this the same man Oriana had warned her about? Was this the same man the countless tabloids and articles that she had read had described as Dangerous, Ruthless or Inhuman? Was this man who was presently treating her like an egg, the same one who was tagged as being cold-blooded?
Countless of those questions flooded her head as she continued to stare at him. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She didn’t want to see him the way they did. Even if he really was all those things they claimed, there had to be a logical reason behind it.
She for one, was one to believe that there was a reason behind every action exhibited by living beings. Be it a natural or killer instinct, a programmed reflex or a scarry effect of an unforgettable past. What she didn’t know was which one fuelled his own actions.
Moreover, if there wasn’t a past to be set free from, why would Carol introduce her brother to her in hopes of getting him to open up. She could only guess from treating Carol that his case was also a past that had left behind scars that couldn’t be erased.
She didn’t know what it was but somehow, she felt like she could understand his pain. She herself, had been there before. She herself, was still healing, yet she felt the unsubdued urge to help him.
She wanted to know the secrets he held within, the past he had had to suffer through, the demons he had had to overcome and the scars his dreadful past had left behind. She wanted to know him. But, there were a myriad of walls between them.
Seemingly going deeper and drowning in the sea of the stinging curiosity to uncover the every secret of the tagged ‘dangerous’ man perched up on the stool before her, Oriana’s words of warning suddenly rang in her ears like a persistent tocsin. She jerked to reality.
Jordan, noticing that the woman whose warm and dainty hands he held had not uttered a single word since, looked up from her palm, which was starting to return to its formerly pale colour to find her eyes glazed over as she appeared to be deep in thought.
She was looking straight at him yet she wasn’t seeing him. He studied her. He observed how she seemed to be biting her inner cheeks, her mouth moving in odd directions. His eyes glimmered with amusement yet if one could patiently watch him closely, they would notice the swirling convolutions of adoration in his Nutella eyes.
Oddly, he wanted time to freeze for a moment or an hour or maybe forever. He didn’t want this moment to pass. He admitted that he loved the feel of her tepid, cloud-soft hands against his cold and callous ones. Undeniably, he conceded that somehow, someway, their hands fit perfectly in each other’s embrace. But a man could only wish; for all good things, alas, must come to an end.
He watched her jolt back to life before snatching her hand out of his hold as though she had been scathed. For reasons unknown to him, it bothered him more than it really should when she stood up and took a few steps away from him as though he were a monster.
Emerald watched as his eyes became hard as his once soft expression vanished into oblivion. He was beginning to look like what those articles had described him to be. Unconsciously, she took another step back, piquing him even more.
“I am a billionaire,” he clarified.
“Exactly the more reason you should have thousands of luxurious houses awaiting your presence,” she retorted, facing the sink to finally sterilise the tweezers.
For some reason, she was sure he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. She shook her head, labeling herself as being psychotic for thinking that after all of Oriana’s warnings.
“But I don’t want luxurious houses. I want you-I mean I want to stay here,” Jordan cleared his throat but kept his face hard in attempts to reduce the awkwardness his slip up had caused in the room.
‘Why did I say that?’ He wondered.
Emerald gulped. She noticed his blunder but knew better than to dwell on it. “Why here? It’s nothing fancy, palatial or richly appealing,” she sighed frustratedly as she returned the first aid box to its rightful place.
“The more reason for its suitability,” his words were only confusing her further.
“What? How so?” Her confusion and frustration were evident by the creases on her forehead.
“Remember when I was shot?” He stood up and walked gently towards her figure which was leaning against the cupboards.
“Of course, I do. That was yesterday. It was terrifying,” she whispered the last sentence. “Speaking of which, how is your arm?” She snuck a look at his injured arm, whose bandage peeked from underneath the short sleeved cotton shirt he donned.
A smile threatened to break out on his face at her words. She was concerned. “It’s good,” he gave a curt nod, his amble towards her torturously slow.
“Concerning the shooting, I have a hunch that the culprits aren’t done with me yet,” he lied. The Timos weren’t going to be any more trouble.
Emerald’s eyes widened at his words and she had almost blurted out the words, “why not report to the police?” when she remembered that he wasn’t just any man.
“If I move to another one of my countless mansions like you suggested, that would be a predictable move and it would most certainly cause my death.”
He was now standing before her, as close as he could be, yet still not close enough. They could now inhale each other’s alluring scents. Balsamic fragrance mixed with the sinfully tempting hints of vanilla, cinnamon and cedarwood wafted softly from their respective sources, filling the kitchen atmosphere.
Their redolence could have never smelled better.
▬▬▬▬▬
“If you check the upper drawer in the closet, you’ll see some clean blankets in there,” Emerald pointed out as they were now standing in one of the spare rooms they had. Logan had occupied one which left them with two more empty rooms.
“Hmm. . . thank you,” Jordan mumbled as he looked around the dark yet clean room – an evidence that it was also included as a part of their sanitation rituals.
Emerald nodded and proceeded to leave the room before stopping abruptly with her hand on the door knob. She inhaled deeply before voicing the thought that had been biting at the back of her mind.
“Are we safe?”
“Hmm. . . what’s that?” He turned around to face her tensed back.
“My friends and I, I mean.”
“Yeah, of course. Why’d you ask?” He had his suspicions but he wanted unmitigated confirmation.
“Well, your uhm. . . profession? It is only appropriate for me to be sure of our safety, don’t you think?” Her grip tightened around the knob as her voice grew shaky. She didn’t know if she had struck a nerve by asking.
Jordan was peeved, yes but not because she had asked that question. Sooner or later, he knew she would discover who he really was, but what aggravated him was the slight fear that laced her words. Now that she knew who he really was, was she scared of him?
That thought didn’t sit well with him, for some reason. He didn’t want her to be scared of him like the others.
“I guess you finally found out.”
“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?” Her back was still to him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There was nothing to tell, was there? You are nothing to me, so I see no reason telling you who I was when I knew not who you were?” His words were blunt but he didn’t want to care.
Emerald swallowed through the lump that pushed its way up her throat as she closed her eyes. She didn’t think his words would hurt as much as they currently did because he had spoken nothing short of the truth. Their relationship had been nothing but professional and she had been the one to keep that notion registered between them both. So, why did it hurt so?
“I guess I must have looked like a fool who didn’t know the almighty J. K.” she proceeded to turn the knob when his words stopped her.
“No, you didn’t. Actually, you really intrigued me.” In surprise, she finally spun around to look at him. His eyes were glued to the floor as he appeared to be reliving a memory. “It was refreshing to see someone who wouldn’t cower in fear at the sight of me. It was peeving at first but then, it made me. . .” he stopped, making Emerald want to yell out the words, ‘made you what?!’
“But now, it seems you’re just like them,” he looked up at her, his glacial exterior taking control once more.
“Just like them?”
“Scared. Weak. Breakable.” With each word, he took a step closer to her till they stood face to chest. “Just like everyone else.”
His words annoyed her. The man before her had no idea what she had been through. He had no idea what she had had to suffer through, yet he was so quick in judging her. She clenched her fists.
With the blazing flames of anger evident in the depths of her green orbs, she looked up into his eyes.
“Don’t be so quick to judge people, Mr. Kale. I think you really need to dwell more on the quote, ‘Do not judge a book by its cover.’ Even if I may appear small compared to you, I won’t sit still and act as a bucket for your insulting spits.”
She spun on her heels and twisted the knob before speaking again.
“Regardless of who you are or what social status you may hold in the society, as long as you’re under my roof, you will abide by my rules. If you’re unfit to do so, then be my guest and leave.
Have a good night, Mr. Kale,” she slammed the door behind her.
With her parting words still lingering in the cool night air entangling itself around the curtains, Jordan stood frozen with his mouth agape. She had stunned him into silence.