COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
I glared at him.
“You don’t have to say it like that. At least allow me to reject him properly.”
I shuddered in fear when his eyes narrowed. Pupils constricted so much it became a dot. Oblivious to my body’s shaking, I continued to glare at him.
After our long staring contest, he finally conceded. Sighing, he gave my phone back and started the engine without a word.
I contacted Zhander. “Hel––”
“Leanna, is what Cain said the truth?” Zhander said, tone feeble like he was so exhausted to even speak.
No fair in using that voice on me!
I hesitated, feeling conflicted.
The man beside me is someone I have feelings. On the other side of the phone is the man I didn’t want to hurt since he’s a really nice guy. And he’s the grandson of the man who became like a family to me.
I took a deep breath.
“Zhander, I’m going out with Cain.”
. . .
. . .
Zhander’s voice was calm, but the bitterness in them was thick that it was hard to ignore.
“Just yesterday,” I answered.
. . .
. . .
“Leanna, what Cain can give you, I can also give you. Even more. I can be a better man than him,” Zhander said, a little pleading.
Then his tone turned overbearing and arrogant. “I won’t back down. Think about it,” he said and ended the call.
I was supposed to stop his advances, but it backfired and edged him forward instead.
I flicked my eyes on the man beside me, meek as possible.
Cain’s handsome face was still expressionless as he focused his attention on the road. But the dark sensation covering him made me think that he was going to murder someone.
We arrived at Central Station without uttering a word.
We were in front of the automated fare collection, and after that was the waiting platform for the train going to New Haven.
We stood there like idiots while people stared at us. I wanted to hug him, but too embarrassed because of all the people’s stares, pointedly staring at Cain.
“I-I’ll go now,” I said.
“Mm . . . ,” was his only reply.
With tiny steps and slump shoulders, I went to the machine.
On the waiting platform, the train was fast approaching. It stopped and opened its doors. I turned and waved at Cain goodbye, but instead, was surprised to find him standing behind me.
He circled his hand on my waist and guided me inside the train with him.
“C-Cain! What are you doing?!” I panicked on my seat when the train moved, waking me from the stupor.
“Accompanying you,” he said like it was the most natural thing to say.
I was alarmed with his no-care attitude and looked over the window.
“Maybe you can get off at the next stop?!”
I was fidgeting when he embraced me, pulling me closer to him. He held my head and led it to his shoulder and gently stroked my hair. His other hand enveloped mine on top of my lap.
He took in deep inhales like I was the only air he breathes as his lips pressed against my hair.
“Do you honestly believe that I’ll just escort you only until the station?”
I paused, then nodded.
“My Leanna . . . I’ll accompany you to your place in New Haven.”
I tried to break away from him, but his grip only tightened, and I stopped struggling altogether when he showed no sign of letting go.
“Cain, you do know it will take you two hours from New York to New Haven on a train, right? You have meetings today.”
“I’ve already moved it to one in the afternoon.”
“. . .”
“. . .”
Sensing my dissatisfaction, he explained further, “Leanna. It will only take forty minutes from New Haven to New York on a helicopter.”
I sighed in surrender and didn’t refuse him anymore.
“Thank you . . . ,” I whispered.
“My pleasure . . . ,” he whispered back.
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