Chapter Four

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Though pride is not a virtue, it is the parent of many virtues.
- George Chapman

Claire Bishop

The heavy knocks echoed throughout my silent apartment. I actually thought if I ignored it, he would go away but who was I kidding? That man was surely persistent.

The sting on my palm had cooled down though I couldn't have said the same thing about his cheek. I wasn't a violent person. I never had been one. But it was just a reflex of mine. If a random stranger said inappropriate thing to me, there was no way I wouldn't do something to him in return.

And now, he was outside my door, making holes in it to reach me and probably, with all the intention of confronting me for his public humiliation.

Easy, Claire. Take deep breaths. Tyler Sanders isn't a monster or is he?

"Oh, you're not helping!" I stood up, muttering to myself.

My legs were going stiff, they cramped at the sudden movement. I shouldn't have slapped him. That was a overdo but it was done and now what? That slap must had been an ugly bruise to his pride. Yeah, that was why he was pounding my door. The way he was doing it, he would surely break it down and break my neck after. I didn't need another expense on my list nor do I needed to die.

I started walking toward my door and stopped when I reached it, my hand on the knob, my heartbeats accelerating, then I shouted. "You can stop it now."

And he stopped.

"Open the door now." His voice not giving away any of his emotions and I gulped, suddenly realising how much of a mess I made.

The door opened and we stared at each other. No one said anything for a whole minute. It was suffice to say it had been one awkward minute. Then he stepped a foot inside and I immediately stepped back.

Debating whether to let him or not, I had no choice on letting him in. He closed the door behind him. Looking out, I didn't see his bodyguard on the hallway. Thank god, no backup. But looking at his muscular body, he definitely wouldn't need a backup while wrestling me.

When did I become a mousy? I never cowered before anyone and this was my house, I definitely wouldn't cower before this rich man no matter who he was. Nope, not happening.

Back straight, chin up, I made eye contact with him and said icily. "What are you doing in my house? I thought, I told you to stay away."

And his pale grey-eyes turned darker, his fists curled into a tight fist. Was I an idiot to anger this man further?

"I told you I have business with you and I wasn't done when you ran away." He started. "I wasn't done when you inte--"

Suddenly, I felt like I grew a steel backbone because even though he informed his displeasure toward interruptions, I couldn't help myself from interrupting him. "And I was done with whatever you wanted to say. How could you even think I would do something like--"

Suddenly, he raised his voice and stepped into my personal space. "Quiet!"

His hard tone made me shut my mouth completely and I went mute. He looked like a muscular man. He could snap me in half but silly me, couldn't get the hint. I shouldn't have interrupted him.

"I told you not to interrupt me again. Are you always like this? You never let others finish and you make silly assumptions first then slap them?!" He bellowed angrily. I flinched and opened my mouth to defend but he lifted his palm to stop me. "Not a single word more, Claire! You are going to sit and listen to me without any interruption. I mean it, no interruptions at all!"

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