The Billionaire's Fake Fiance

Chapter Thirty One

Three days had past, and yet there was no conversation between Jean and Richard. Jean was seated at her desk, working on the project that she had grown to love so much. As a kid, she loved writing creative, imaginary things, for which, her mom used to call her an impractical piece of scum. Yes, Elizabeth Parker called her names, too.

She was hurting. A lot. She had been staying in Richard's house for over five days and now she felt like a massive, heaving burden on his shoulders. Her injuries had recovered a lot, and now that the cut on her forehead was nearly fading away, she knew she had to leave his house. She needed to, or else her self-respect would shatter.

She had always been honest, self-sufficient and had considered herself to be a dignified woman. She had earned for every bit of necessity in her life, and even now, she refused to take anyone's sympathy. Even his.

Deciding to move out from his house as soon as possible, she shut the laptop with a resounding thud. She got up from her chair and silently tiptoed towards Richard's cabin only to see it rendered empty. She saw it, rotating her eyes to soak in the vision completely. After precisely eleven days, one month would be complete, and as fate would want it, she would have to leave this office and go back to Hamilton Inc. Not leaving this office, leaving his life.

Suddenly, her vision wasn't clear anymore. The only thing clearer than her future, staring at her with big eyes, was the reality. Tears cascaded down her cheeks in wild abandonment, and she knew that she had brought this upon herself. All her life she had been suffering, and this time too, she would get pain in return for her emotions.

Promptly, her chain of thoughts were delicately broken by a much delicate voice. The window through which Grace's cabin could be seen was widely open, only closed with a translucent curtain. She could see Grace, talking on the phone. And very conveniently, she could hear her too.

"You're not understanding. He's not even bothered about what I'm doing. I don't think it's a drama, anymore. I think he really likes her! God, we have to think of something, real quick." Grace's voice sounded overly agitated.

Jean stopped breathing, pretending to not exist so as Grace wouldn't know someone was eavesdropping on her conversation. She held her breath, listening in more clearly.

"Yes, I think I should lure him towards me and as you said, he's an emotional fool and I'm gonna use it to my advantage."

Jean didn't know what to make of the conversation. Who was Grace talking about? Was it.....Richard? Something told her to run away on her heels, but a good instinct dictated her to stay and listen.

"Okay, bye, I love you."

Who was she expressing her love to? Jean thought, her ideas reverberating far and wide. Her instinct told her that Grace was talking about Richard, she wasn't sure, though. And she definitely wasn't a person who blamed without evidences. Deciding against confronting her, she walked outside of the cabin, coming face to face with Richard.

His dark eyes smouldered into her light blue ones, and it was as if there was a battle silently fought between them, the ever-living battle of fire and ice, smoke and dust, dark and light. It seemed as if his eyes searched for answers she couldn't possibly ever give, and her eyes demanded a little bit of hope he couldn't possibly ever conjure up.

"Why are you coming out of my cabin?" His question was sharp, piercing.

She took a deep breath. "I left my notepad inside." She internally thanked God for actually leaving her notepad inside.

His gaze went to the pad clutched between her hands. "Oh." There was only one syllable that left his mouth.

Something about him worried her. His hair was disheveled, not gelled or ruffled in style, his tie was hanging loose from his collar, and his blazer was folding neatly on his arm, leaving him only in his crisp, blue shirt. She wanted to be worried, she wanted to ask him whether he was okay, whether he truly believed, but, well, there was again a but. Her better sense of discretion made her halt so abruptly that she didn't know she had stopped breathing.