117
Miranda’s POV
As Desmond blocked my path to the restaurant door, his face wore an expression that was both pleading and frustratingly insincere. I had no interest in entertaining his antics any longer. His lies, his deceit—they were suffocating, and I wasn’t about to let him drag me further into his web of manipulation.
He raised a hand slightly, almost as if to stop me physically, but thought better of it. “Miss Laila, please,” he began, his tone low and falsely apologetic. “Let me explain. This is all just a misunderstanding.”
I folded my arms across my chest, my lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “A misunderstanding? You hitting Brenda was a misunderstanding? Or was it when you suddenly professed love at first sight after meeting me for all of ten minutes?”
He blinked, as though stunned by my words. “It’s not like that,” he insisted. “She’s been obsessive. She’s made things unbearable for me, and I had to—”
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Enough, Desmond. Whatever history you have with Brenda is your business, not mine. I have no interest in becoming part of your personal soap opera.”
He flinched slightly but quickly recovered, forcing a charming smile that only deepened my disgust. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble,” he said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “It’s just... from the moment I saw you, I knew you were special. I couldn’t keep it to myself. I fell for you instantly.”
I almost laughed out loud. The audacity of this man was laughable, but I held my composure, my expression neutral. “Mr. Desmond, I already have a fiancé,” I said firmly.
“I know,” he said quickly, his face falling ever so slightly. “I’m not asking for a relationship. I just wanted to be honest about how I feel. And... I was hoping we could at least be friends.”
Friends? Was he insane?
“Friends?” I repeated, arching an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that entail?”
“Nothing more than conversation,” he said earnestly. “I won’t pester you. I just... I want to be someone you can talk to, whether you’re happy or sad. Like a real friend.”
I stared at him for a long moment, weighing my options. I didn’t believe him for a second, but refusing outright would only prolong this conversation, and Clara was waiting for me inside. “Fine,” I said at last, my tone clipped. “But let me make one thing clear—we’re just ordinary friends. Nothing more.”
Desmond’s face lit up with a smile that made my stomach churn. “Of course,” he said quickly. “Ordinary friends. Thank you, Miss Laila. You’ve made me very happy.”
I didn’t bother responding. Without another word, I turned and walked into the restaurant, leaving him standing there like the fool he was.
Inside, I spotted Clara sitting at a small corner table, her hands neatly folded on the tablecloth. Her dark blazer and sleek ponytail gave her a professional air, but her sharp gaze betrayed her concern. She had undoubtedly seen everything through the glass door.
As I approached, she stood and pulled out my chair for me, her movements precise and respectful. “Miss Laila,” she said, her tone formal. “Are you alright?”
I sighed, taking a seat and glancing at her briefly before looking at the menu. “I’m fine, Clara. Just a minor inconvenience.”
Clara’s brow furrowed slightly as she sat across from me. “I saw what happened outside. Should I be concerned about Mr. Desmond?”
I shook my head, waving off her concern. “No need. He’s nothing more than a persistent pest. I’ll handle him.”
Clara nodded, her expression still serious. “If there’s anything I can do to assist, please let me know. Your safety and peace of mind are my top priorities.”
I smiled faintly, appreciating her professionalism. “Thank you, Clara. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The waiter arrived to take our orders, and Clara ordered her usual black coffee while I opted for a herbal tea. Once the waiter left, Clara leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice.
“Miss Laila, if I may speak freely?” she asked.
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go ahead.”
She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “That man outside—Desmond—he seems dangerous. Not in the obvious sense, but in the way he manipulates people. I’ve seen men like him before. They’re charming on the surface, but underneath...” She trailed off, her lips pressing into a thin line.
I nodded slowly, meeting her gaze. “You’re not wrong, Clara. Desmond is manipulative, and I don’t trust him. But don’t worry—I know how to handle men like him.”
Clara’s expression softened slightly, and she leaned back in her chair. “I trust your judgment, Miss Laila. Just be careful. Men like him don’t give up easily.”
I smiled faintly, a hint of steel in my voice as I replied, “Neither do I.”
As the waiter returned with our drinks, the conversation shifted to work matters, but Clara’s concern lingered in her eyes. I appreciated her loyalty and professionalism, but this was a battle I had to fight on my own.
Desmond thought he could manipulate me, charm his way back into my life.
But he had no idea who he was dealing with.
And soon enough, he’d learn the hard way.