Must Date The Chef

|| 35.

Paul

"What do you suggest we do then?" I ask Mr Adams. "It's been over a week now," I sigh, "what the fuck is wrong with all of you?"

All of them including daddy. Mr Adams's stony expression after my outburst has me toying with the idea of inserting my fingers into his eyes to get a reaction out of him. I don't understand how he can appear this relaxed knowing Ifunaya has been gone for this long. I am a wreck, I can barely get any sleep and no one is doing anything but making promises and keeping us locked in this fucked, empty house. The elections have been postponed but that's not enough for them, they want daddy to step down.

Fuckers. My fist clenches, I turn away from him to avoid doing something stupid. They are stalling, trying to buy time to extract her but it's taking too damn long and every extra minute she spends there is an excuse for those deranged psychopaths to torture her. Fuck. My fingers run through my face, ending up in my overgrown beards and I let out a frustrated sigh. Why all this?

Giving up a position he has already enjoyed for four years shouldn't be this big of a deal. I grunt and walk to the end of the stairs. If anything happens to her, I will not forgive him. I will not forgive myself. My fingers dig into my scalp, I groan, she has to be okay.

"Young man, I do not appreciate your tone or manners," he finally replies in a clipped tone that has my fist clenching until the urge to break his nose subsidies. I grit my teeth and scowl, turning around to give him a piece of my mind. Ifunaya is missing and all he cares about is respect, he will get a suffocating amount of that once I have her in my arms again. "You don't care about Ifunaya more than I do and we are working round the clock to get her out of there."

Closing the gap between us, I stare into his eyes and scoff. "Round the clock?" The noise that follows my question is the sound of the gold bowl connecting with the rugged floor. I kick the pieces, take one step back to allow him to access the damage I caused. He arches a brow and I smirk, I will do worse than this if we don't find her soon. "If anything happens to her," I point a finger at him and shake my head, "if anything happens to-"

"Nothing will happen to her."

The air crackles with power as he stares me down, daring me to say otherwise. I take a step away from him, my fingertips brush the table and he nods. Without a backward glance at me, he saunters up the stairs and I sink into the chair with my hands locked behind my head. The throbbing intensifies, blinding pain spreads through my chest and my heart constricts. I wheeze, my lips part open in a silent cry and my eyes sting with unshed tears. Everything is going south.

Warm arms wrap around my neck, I sniff and relax slightly into the awkward hug. "I'm scared," I say to her. "I'm afraid."

"What's going on?" Chi asks.

The scent of her perfume lingers long after she moves to the opposite seat, I refuse to look at her until my tears are at bay. I need to be a man, to keep my head straight. One glance at the parlour shows someone has taken care of the mess I made, I heave a sigh and turn to Chi who has her hands out on the table for me to take. My eyes move to the portrait behind her, I shake my head, I am not the one who needs to be comforted.

Dragging her chair closer to me, she pulls my hands from my laps into a firm grip and I chuckle, I can free myself from her grasp without blinking. Her brows raise as she awaits an explanation, I purse my lips and try to decipher her facial expression. Dark circles surround her eyes, her complexion and lack of makeup makes it hard to hide them and the stress pimples scattered all over her forehead has my hackles rising.

She has not gone to work since this kidnap saga started, she spends all day indoors, playing loud music. We barely see since we have connecting bathrooms and a television in each room, the maids bring the food up except we say otherwise. I have not heard a single complaint from her but she doesn't know the state of things which makes me wonder what is giving her a tough time. Or, how many things about her I have failed to notice because I was consumed by grief.