/Rafe Cameron/
She's lying, I know she is. She saw who it was. In and out of consciousness, between blurbs, she knew.
But for some reason, she wouldn't talk..
Bella was a born pogue, maybe more so than any of her fellow pogue friends yet somehow sh...
Warning: This chapter contains dark themes. A detailed description of a dark mental state of the main character and talk of rape. May be triggering to some.
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Songs: Mockingbird by Dutch Melrose and Figure You Out by Voila
Rafe
I grip my phone tighter until my knuckles burn and turn white, shutting my eyes, straining them so hard behind my eyelids until they feel like they might fucking explode. Part of me hopes they fucking will so I don't have to see this old fuckers face again. On the other line of the phone going on and fucking on. Chipping away at my patience with his every word. I can physically feel the agitation burning under my skin, igniting higher and higher each time I hear his fucking voice.
Except I wouldn't actually want that..I've always been told I had 'pretty' eyes which made me want to stab them with a fork just so people would stop fucking commenting on them as if they're a fucking handbag in a shop window. Until Bella said it. Then I was okay with it.
This mother fucker just won't relent..acting as if I'm his own interior designer. He'd already pissed me off when he requested my presence at the property showing. Racking up my assistants emails until he was responded to. I only agreed to shut his ass up and so I could show up and show him just who the fuck he's trying to fuck around with.
"And what about construction? What if I wish to tear down walls before purchasing? I did hate the back room, it could be utilized so much more effectively" He tells me and I drop my head back. Wising I was sitting at my desk so I could smack it against the surface relentlessly. Feeling waves of irritation and anger sputter through my blood. "You do fucking realize I'm not a project manager building your goddamn office? Once you buy it you can do whatever the fuck you want" I inform him, speaking through my teeth, set in my clenched jaw, ignoring the ache beginning to form in the muscle.
I won't bother to explain how that's not actually true..He'd need a permit from the city to go through with construction but that's not my fucking problem.
The old fucker really shouldn't have the energy to be such a twat. He's pushing sixty. Showing up to the property walk in a dress suit and tie, was he attending a ball room dance afterwards? I wanted to slap his stupid fucking glasses off his wrinkled face every time he spoke. Losing my ever loving shit when he tried to question my knowledge and comment on my age.
That did end up with his notebook full of bullshit notes spattered across the lobby of the building. His pen stuck firmly in the rug. One thing I will not be is questioned or doubted. And I certainly won't fucking allow it to be fed. It'll be shut down the second it's formed and never thought of again.
We got into quite the colorful worded argument after that and he 'threatened' to take his business elsewhere to which I politely held the door open for him. His face was beat red with anger which only made me laugh, I could practically see the fumes of rage boiling off his skin. One of my poor showing agents, Lexi having to witness the whole thing. He calmed his old grey fuck ass down after he realized who he was dealing with.
