The Billionaire's Secret Identity

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX 

“What?” Tony bawled with mouth agape, his stomach churning with the preposterous statement. 

He swallowed hard. No, he hadn't heard well. Did she just make fun of him? He shook his head, giving the stony feeling in his chest to melt away.

“You're saying —”

“That I believe I can help you write a script for,” she smiled warmly, her blazing red lip gloss reflecting the humour in her eyes.

“You, see, I'm a script writer and movie director. I can do that for you,” she inserted her long nails into her curly hair.

He felt his heart catch fire, a harsh fire that brewed a sore throat in her neck.

The words were in his lips, sharp and sore, but he held them back, letting them stay put where they belonged.

He shook his head and turned away, eyes downcast and lost of all its brightness but not missing the determination.

That smell of soot from his home would not allow him to disappoint his parents even if he wanted to. It lurked around him like a ghost.

Then the air suddenly began to smell smoky. Its particles pierced his nose harshly. Or was it his eyes, he couldn't tell.

That was the reminder. He understood. He was to go on. He was to leave this blazing red lipstick chick and move on with his mission.

It was nothing; nothing much.

He just felt the shivering cold of embarrassment that hit his cheek and watered his eyes.

Besides that, he was good. No other turmoil and pain existed.

“You'll need no other, when you try my services,” she continued smoothly, gently and sweet, the scent from her perfume sifting into his nose, merging with the soot smell.

He must have imagined the soot again. There was no soot on the road. It was as clear as day.

He must have imagined it. He shook the feeling away; the thought and guilt.

He kept on walking, her words pressing hard on his heart, tripling the weary feeling that sang loudly in his head.

It grew louder and louder, that he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness; the dreamy world of imagination where the lady was the center of attraction and ironically, repulsion.

But it left him almost at once.

Suddenly, the background noise returned to normal and his head cleared. The ringing stopped.

He could now see that hers wasn't the only car plying the road. That he could shift attention to other cars and escape her disgusting personality.

The hooting and revving sound of their engines was enough to bring life—especially strength to his legs.

“Oh, come on, what did I say so wrong?” She trailed her car behind him, speaking loud enough to burst his ear drums.

He grinded his teeth to stop himself from speaking the unthinkable. He was taught to make self-control a companion.

That he would do.

“You know, you should be thankful for this privilege of changing your looks,” she went on, nonchalantly.

And the breeze that he had not noticed before sent the words to him together with some soothing feeling in case her words tried to slip the wrong way.

“I'm just doing this as a ‘thank you’”. She continued thoughtlessly. He hated her for that; her thoughtlessness and blindness.

He wished there was a way he could just silent her without going out of character.

“If not, I would've zoomed off already,” her car moved side by side with him as she spoke, her breath almost close enough to fan his hands.

He took in a sharp breath and exhaled, sneakers hitting the coarse texture of the tar road and heart beat increasing with the emotion he was trying to suppress.

“Okay, fine. How can I thank you?” She screeched the car to a corner stop, halting him from further movement.

“I think, a ‘thank you’ is fair enough,” he replied coldly, his eyes freezing as he watched her.

“I know,” she rolled her eyes and her hair flipped wavily. “But I need to repay your kindness in kind, not in words,” she added, blinking rapidly, her right arm relaxing on the steering.

“I hate owing favours,” she hit her car's steering and it honked. “I need us to be even so that we can properly let go of each other”.

“No, you don't owe me anything,” he sent his hands deeper into his pockets. 

“I helped you because whatever was going to happen, would've happened in my house,” he watched her expression carefully, while placing refusal blatantly in his.

Her eyes rolled upwards; she shook her head slightly.

“The last thing I want is for someone to get hurt under my watch,”. He sighed and touched his dreads, wondering how best he was to pull himself from the situation. 

“It's never happened,” his voice cracked with the remembrance of his family.

If he had been around, he was certain no harm would have befallen them; that they would still have been around to welcome him.

“You being alive and well, is thank you enough,” he continued, speaking the difficult part of his thoughts.

She should be thankful that she's alive. He sniffed, and pushed Sarah out of his mind. She had been barely eighteen. 

She never deserved to die. 

“Just stop bothering me and go your way”. He chided, already beginning to move.

“Your explanations are beautiful and understandable,” she began slowly, her green eyes hiding a shadow. 

Breeze waved its way to his skin while she spoke; he shivered.

“But…”

“But I insist. I want to cut off all ties with you. Let me make it up to you,” She smiled; a smile of manipulation. 

“After this, we can say goodbye to each other,” she shrugged, “Promise not to see each other ever again”.

“You're getting me pissed,” he inhaled sharply with his eyes closed and ribs aching from the breath he held.

“I don't want to raise my voice”. 

“What if I take you to Michael Leo, will that be payment enough?” Mischief danced in her voice. “I know how to get to him”.