C8 Elijah pov

I stared down at my phone as my mom’s voice filled the room. Maybe it’s mothers’ instinct or someone at the office had been snitching but she somehow knew how poorly I’d been doing at work. Working was the last thing on my mind but I had to go because I wanted to see her. No one at the office had heard from her and she hasn’t called in sick or anything. I was worried and angry at myself. It’s been days now. Did Anton restrict her from going out? Is she okay?

I’ve also been to the bar every day since then and I always get excited whenever I see a woman walking in but disappointed immediately they walk into the light.

I love my mom and we’re very close but this wasn’t the time for her lectures. I dropped my phone and watched as she paced back and forth the room but I couldn’t make out a word she was saying. My brain was foggy and my mind was clouded with thoughts of what happened at the diner.

Her face as she walked away with Anton occupied my every sense. She was sad. There must have been a reason she suddenly decided to follow him home.

“I shouldn’t have let her go. I should have fought harder for her”, I muttered, not minding my mom.

“What was that?”, she snapped and not waiting for an answer, continued with her bickering.

This feeling was worse than anything I could imagine. Not seeing her or being able to touch and hold her this long drove me insane.

What would it take to get her back?

I went to the office every day, hoping that one day she would walk in. I’d even slept there on one fateful night. Drunk and heartbroken, I couldn’t bring myself to go home. She may have been in my home for a minute but everything reminded me of her. It was worse here but going home wasn’t in the books for me. And my mom was there. She’d insisted on staying until she was sure everything was okay. Her nagging mostly kept me away from home.

‘Mrs Amelia Mascot is one stubborn woman.’

“I hope she’s okay and that beast is not putting his filthy hands on her”

Calling her phone has been nothing but a disappointment. Maybe he took her phone or she turned it off. I understood why she could do that but it didn’t help in any way. I stared at a large painting of a French woman on the wall. A woman who seemed to be in her late twenties to early thirties. Her pale white porcelain skin complimented her bright ocean-blue eyes. Her long brown hair fell helplessly on her shoulders. She wore an emerald green dress that hung a bit below her cleavage, her naked thighs alluring.

She was beautiful!

The painting reminded me of her. I may be standing in front of one of the most beautiful paintings in the world but Laila was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. A real-life goddess dare I say.

I traced the curves in the painting as the thought of her clouded my senses almost immediately.

I picked up my phone and went straight to the car. Maybe I’ll find her at the bar or at least a way to reach her. The bartender might be able to help. They seemed close the first night I saw her there.

At the bar, The bartender, Tim, didn’t have much information on how I could reach her but I decided to stay for a little while. My head was filled with so many thoughts and needed clearing anyway.

Tim and I had some serious conversations in between drinks. He spoke less and listened more. We talked about everything going on, only he didn’t know it was Laila and me. I needed someone else’s opinion other than mine.

Tim gave great advice and it helped me decide on what to do next.

Maybe I’d finally make a friend here after all. Other than a few acquaintances and close business associates, I didn’t have a friend.

I was going to go see her at their place, damn Anton and the consequences.

I parked across from her house and watched as a man emerged from the house. “Damned bastard”, I swore, thinking it was Anton but as he came close, I noticed it was a man in his early sixties. That must be his father. I watched him get into the car when I suddenly got a call from the office. It was Martha, my assistant.

My first thought was to ignore it as I wasn’t in any mood for work or anything of the sort and besides it was too late in the evening for her to be calling. It must be something urgent but it can wait. I wanted to go in as soon as the man drove off but the call was persistent and after a few rings, I had to pick up.

“She’s here Mr Mascot”, her tiny phone spoke on the phone.

Hanging up immediately, I drove speedily to the office. What was she doing there this late? Well, it didn’t matter, as long as I get to see and hold her again.

But my expectations were cut short once I walked inside.

Martha looked scared. The sweat trailing down her forehead told me everything I needed to know.

I walked past Martha and into my office and there he was, in my seat.

Damned bastard!