My Miser +A Storm & Silence Fanfiction+

20. Alternative Beginning #5

I looked anywhere but him.

I could feel his cold gaze drilling into my skin. If looks could kill, I would probably be buried beneath the earth long time ago.The very thing written on my grave would be, of course, 'killed by an Arctic glare.'

I didn't dare to look into his eyes. Maybe I feared that its coldness would freeze me on the spot and I would spend the rest of my life standing here being no less than Achilles statue in Hyde Park.

Slowly, very slowly, I moved my gaze towards his hands and that's when I noticed the scorch on his hand.

Quickly yet delicately I took his hand in mine. Despite of the coldness his hand still felt warm and surged a blast of energy within me. I busied my eyes looking at his hands - not making an eye-contact as I didn't want to invite my death - I tugged his hand under the tap. The cold water hit his hot skin as I dared to take a look at his perfect chiseled face.

I felt his little finger twitch twice in a row as he closed his eyes due to the pain or rather anger. I silently prayed it to be the former.

I looked at his hands once again as water perfectly cooled his hot skin - giving him relief that's what I thought - but when I my mere little brown eyes met with his cold ones, I realised it was the time to say goodbye to my dear world.

The water not only hit his singe but also his mint-conditioned tailcoat. I had, of course, accidentally, tugged the tap with a little more than usual strength which soaked his tailcoat.

I gulped once again.

Oh dear God, wait for me. I'm coming...

'Mr. Ambrose..'

He crammed his hand out of mine with a lightening speed as he glared at me. He brought his face closer as he moved towards mine. Stepping so close to me that our noses were almost touching. For a minute my heart stopped functioning and then all at once pounced inside my chest like a volcano as I gazed into his deep, dark and dangerous eyes.

Get a grip Lilly! A man cannot make you weak!

Fortunately, my body gave a patient ear to my inner voice as I stiffened my shoulder and looked into his eyes with same fierce, challenging him to defeat me.

Our staring competition lasted for two exact minutes. Neither of us gave up. But then Mr. Ambrose moved his head back - probably because it was no use and complete waste of time - and I finally breathed some fresh air.

His jaw was clenched so tightly that at a particular point I thought he would break all of his teeth.

His lips moved infinitesimally but then he shut his mouth all at once making a muscle in his jaw twitch.

Without saying any words - finally he realised that he would waste his precious time as he could never defeat me - he marched out of the room.

I exhaled in relief as I turned towards the spatula.

Seems like you could finally make the food.

*

After I fed my hungry stomach , I looked at the left over food and the closed bedroom door.

Should I offer him some?

Obviously I don't want him to die with hunger, though I doubt that such a small thing would kill him. But if it did, it would be a shame that one of the most richest man in whole Britain died because he had no food to eat. Irony, huh?

But he should be the one giving me food. After all, wasn't I living in his house? Wasn't he the host? Who was I kidding,I even wasn't invited here in the first place! And was I really talking about how a man should feed me with his cooking skill?