Bookworms | ✔

seventy

The rapid drumming of Nicholas's fingers tapping against the keyboard resonated throughout their small apartment complex, the rhythm a constant beat to the words and business jargon that echoed in his mind like a bell, and a string of praise and prose weaved in between the paragraphs. There was a subtle peace in doing what he was good at. 

Writing was always his strong point, even during those, dark, foreboding days that thundered as if the sky would break under the crackling, his ability to write would be his escape along with the endless books that decorated his indoor library. 

Granted, business proposal writing wasn't an enjoyable task, but he sure as hell was good at writing them. It was one of those talents that came naturally. Nicholas was raised and groomed to be a CEO. Although he didn't like the idea of being a person in his father's shadow, he appreciated the opportunities he was given for being the child of a CEO. 

Nicholas glanced at his wristwatch. I still got an hour or two. 

The proposal had property value to it. If Nicholas could be persuasive enough to the board of directors, he would have landed his father a two hundred thousand dollar investment in their company's project. 

Dina's figure leaned over his frame, her shadow darkening his work space and breaking his concentration. She smiled innocently, black, ebony hair tied into a long braid, and eyes sparkling with the mischief he was too familiar with when it came to her. 

Nothing productive ever comes from those devious eyes. 

"What are you doing?" she said in a sing-song voice, melodious with jest and frivolous with curiosity. 

He arched a brow, peering at her suspiciously. "You seem different."

"Me? I could never," she smiled, too widely. "I'm just asking about your work."

"Fair enough," he shrugged as he turned back to his laptop screen. "I have a proposal to finish writing. I'll be done in a bit."

"But I need attention."

"Go study, Dina."

"If I wanted to study, I wouldn't be bothering you, now would I?" she countered.

Nicholas stayed silent, his mind purely tuned to his task. The gears in his brain turned, his wife's voice a humming sound beneath his ocean of thought, drowning among the hardened business murmurs that confronted his shields and barriers with their own army of dedication. 

His eyes were glued to the screen, and his wife couldn't be more displeased than she was at that moment. 

"Do you hate me?" she pouted, resting her chin on the edge of the table, gazing up at him with sad, puppy eyes.

"No."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

Dina frowned. "You're giving me one worded responses."

"My bad," he said, distractedly glancing from his notepad to his screen.

She sighed exaggeratedly. "Can I ever get attention?"

"I give you plenty, now be quiet," he hushed her. "I have to focus."

"You've been saying that for the past four days."

"Dina, not now."

Instead of another bubbly response filled with her sassy undertone, she narrowed her eyes, pursuing her lips. Without another word, she walked away from Nicholas, the coldness of her steps freezing his work space with tendrils of guilt. It crippled Nicholas, and his focus simmered towards his wife's retreating form.