COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
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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 didn’t want to say even a letter to him, but my feelings could wait as my impatience for correcting the plans took high priority. My perfectionist side was in full gears, and I was unable to stop it.
Tristan’s face brightened at me, mentioning his name until I barraged him with complaints.
“Why are there so many mistakes in the planning of spaces?”
I knew the Clark Construction Company was never on the architectural side, they were more on the engineering side, but it was not an excuse to draw these brainless plans.
“Why aren’t there any material recovery facilities? May I remind you that this is a culinary school. Where will we put the waste? There should be a compost facility to convert waste into fertilizers. The loading dock for the ingredients should be placed on the back of the house. The public spaces are mixed with the private areas. The whole plan is all jumbled up and poorly defined. I want this whole plan redrawn, and please make sure that the one who is planning this is an expert in designing schools and restaurants or any culinary school for that matter.” I couldn’t even take another look at the garbage, sorry for an excuse sheet of architectural plans.
I was too engrossed in regressing to my past old, terror of an architect self that it was too late to take it all back. Tristan had now an annoyed face. Cristy stared at me with squinty eyes while my mother raised an eyebrow.
“Uhmm . . . that is . . . my opinion only . . . of course.” I tried to salvage myself.
A period of silence past before Tristan cleared his throat and laughed off his embarrassment. “Wow, Mrs. Lee. If I don’t know any better, I think your daughter is secretly taking up architecture behind your back.”
I drank a glass of water at his remarked, hoping to flushed that uncomfortable feeling out of my system.
Tristan coolly checked his watch. Then his eyes slid on my mother and Cristy.
“Mrs. Lee, I’m sorry to ask, but can you take Cristy back with you to the site, and take her to roam around your school? I want to have pictures, not just the site, but the entire area as well. Can you also accompany her to take pictures of the rooms and the facilities of the existing school while Leanna and I discuss the plans?” he said in one breath, voice smooth as his words.
Before a protest shot through my mouth, my mother stood and dragged the unwilling Cristy to her feet.
Cristy didn’t like the site. She didn’t want her boots dirtied and her flawless skin exposed to dust.
“Alright. Len-Len will be right back. I’ll trust you with the plans. I hope by the end of the day, we can come up with an agreement with this.” My mother’s oblivious voice made me snapped at her with a ‘no’ plastered on my face. But she just ignored me and walked out together with the unwilling girl. Cristy even took a pleading glanced at Tristan before she disappeared from sight.
I held myself as every violent cell in my body jumped in excitement at being alone with this man.
I brushed it off and pretended to focus on the concepts of the new school.
“Mr. Clark, the new school doesn’t blend with the existing. I want you to adopt the existing so the school will look like one. Not making it obvious that it was just an afterthought. Make it look like it was planned together with the old one. Take note of the orientation. Change the location of the freezers and the storage room as it faces on the hottest side and––!”
I stopped when out of the blue, I felt a familiar hand on top of mine.
I slapped it off.
“What are you doing?” I snapped at him.
Tristan smiled as he sat beside me –– leaning in closer.
“Leanna, we’ll redraw the concepts and the plans, incorporating all you wish . . . so how about we talk something else?” he said, making his voice huskier. But it only sounded like a cat being forced in a blender. I have to cross my arms so it wouldn’t fly on his disgusting face.
I scooted over to put distance between us.
“I don’t want to discuss anything, but these plans.” I was surprised my voice came out all calm.
“Don’t be like that. Why don’t we talk about you? About your fiancé?”
I shot him a warning glare, and Tristan raised his hands in a defensive stance.
“Whoa! You don’t have to be like that.” He chuckled before he added, “You’re a smart girl Leanna and quite pretty.”
The way he said my name made my heart thump. Not in a romantic kind of way, but in an exciting murderous sort of way.
Tristan gave me a coy smile as he licked his lips while he roamed his lustful eyes on my body. “I’ll be honest with you. I’m quite beholden with you the moment we first met. I don’t know why, but something is pulling me towards you, and I can’t resist it.”
He probably told every young girl that line. Trying to enticed them with his sweet possessive words, and coupled by his handsome face –– who wouldn’t fall for his charms when he practically made you feel that you were the only girl in his eyes?
I knew I did in my past life.
But never again.
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