Beau Monde ✅

Chapter 7

Ayaan Fadel.

Maroudi, Nigeria.

She took ostentatious steps, her fingers skimming over the rows of clothing there with scrutinizing eyes. Her lips were set into a straight line, however, it curled upwards occasionally in distaste when she comes across what I assume is not to her liking.

"From this..." She pointed a finger at a particular clothing on the rack, before shifting it all across to another rack. "...to that, bring them all to the dressing room." She didn't need to repeat those words twice.

Instantly, the workers there scrambled in an attempt to fulfill her request hastily.

A few were left with her, as she continued her action with whatever goal she has in mind. Turning around on her what I estimate to be six inch heels, she gracefully moved around to another row of clothing, observing them with hawk eyes.

One must've caught her attention. Because she reached her hand out to pick it out, before tossing it to the floor with distaste. "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" She yelled out, turning around to glare at the poor workers there. "Are you dumb or something? I particularly told you that this section is reserved for the VIPs. Why in the world is there such a cheap cloth amongst it? Are you that stupid?!"

The workers flinched from the tone she used. And even I had to place a finger to my ear to tune it out because God, she truly has a screeching voice. She should seriously still to speaking softly—raising a voice definitely shouldn't be for her.

"I—I'm sorry, Ma'am. It—it must've been a mistake. I would have them fix it now." The woman who I assumed is the one in charge rambled, her hand in repetitive gestures as she tried to get the others to hastily take the outfit out.

"Don't bother." Basma cut them off, her tone icy. "You're fired."

Color drained from the woman's face almost immediately, her body shaking slightly. "Ma'am...Ma'am...please." She was quick to drop on her knees in front her now former employee, dragging herself to the woman's foot as she began to plead profusely. "Miss Basma, p-please I'm pleading with you. Please don't fire me. I-I don't have any other source of income and I'm the one--"

Basma didn't wait to hear the woman's response, as she called the security guards with a quick wave of her hand to drag the woman out. And so, they did. Despite the woman screaming her pleads at the top of her voice, and regardless of the tears she was profusely shedding, she turned a deaf ear and blind eye to it.

With the woman out of sight, Basma swiveled around to glare at the trembling workers remaining—probably already fearing for their jobs. "Fix this now. And if I see any more mistakes later, you're all getting fired. Do you understand?!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Yes."

"Noted. Ma'am."

"Good." She huffed out a breath, crossing her arms over her torso. "Now get out of my sight." She dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

They all quietly strolled out hastily, no longer wanting to be in her presence in the woman in fear of even breathing the wrong way. I quietly watched as they watched past me, a few of them throwing curious glances at me but keeping the words to themselves.

Smart move I guess.

When there was no one else there aside from her, I decided to make my presence know. Straightening my spine, I took careful strides towards her. I stopped halfway, leaning out to pick up the clothing piece she had thrown away earlier in anger.

She must've spotted me from the corner of her eyes, because she swiveled around just in time I got back up on my feet. My eyes met hers, and I didn't miss the way her eyes narrowed even more, causing me to smile slightly though I'm certain it's only getting on her nerves.