Chapter 77 Does He Have A Choice?

Chapter 77 Does He Have A Choice?
Purple’s POV:

I was supposed to be relaxed on the six-hour flight to St. Naman, but because Alice Quinn was my mother, I had to be the center of attention. First, when I boarded business class, the flight attendant asked for my name as if double-checking; once I told her, she quickly helped me with my backpack and brought me a calcium drink.

Then, after an hour, she came to me and said it was okay for me to stand up and walk a little because sitting down for too long could hurt my spine.

This was all Alice.

Once we arrived in St. Naman, the flight attendant approached to help me pull my backpack from the overhead bin, and I glared at her. She had been suffocating me during the entire ride, and I just knew this was only the beginning; my mother wasn’t going to let me forget about my spine, not even for a day.

After passing through customs, I pulled my suitcase to the entrance and turned my phone on. There were countless messages from my friends back in Roonie, and also a lot of missed calls from Leone and Etsy. Were they upset? I… ouch!

I jumped back when warm liquid spilled all over my T-shirt, burning my skin. I looked up angrily; the guy who had just bumped into me had a shocked look on his face, as if he couldn’t believe he’d done that.

“Watch it,” I gritted my teeth. He quickly pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to me.

“I am sorry. Jesus, I am sorry…” He apologized so sincerely that I decided not to lash out at him like I normally would. There was no need to try to clean my T-shirt; it was already ruined.

“Whatever.” I handed the tissue back to him, but he wouldn’t take it.

“It’s yours. Go wash it off or throw it away.”

He chuckled and took the tissue. “Purple,” he muttered. My brows furrowed. I looked around, and everyone in the airport was busy with their luggage; who was this man, and how did he know my name?

“What did you say?”

He raised a brow, then pointed at my hair. “Your hair… it’s purple. Is that a comment you don’t approve of? If yes, then I will immediately retract it.”

I chuckled in disbelief. “No… just when you said ‘purple,’ I thought you knew me because, you know… my name is Purple.”

“No fucking way,” he gasped in amusement. I was anxious to see the look on his face when I let him know my name was also Pancake, but I was supposed to be upset with him for burning me with his coffee. Luckily, it wasn’t that hot.

“I should leave.” I gripped my suitcase.

“Since I could guess your name, how about we exchange contacts?” Now I took the time to really look at him. He was tall, about the same height as Harry, with really black and smooth hair—I could tell he used a lot of products on that. He was dressed in a suit, and his watch screamed luxury.

“Uhm, sorry, but no.” I smiled softly and rolled my suitcase away.

“If we meet again, then you are not allowed to say no.”

I chuckled and nodded. St. Naman was a big city, and I would be returning to Roonie soon; the chances of me bumping into that stranger again were one percent.

When I got to the entrance, I saw the familiar short, chubby man who had dropped me off at the airport months ago—the Fremore family driver.

“Miss Quinn!” He waved at me excitedly, and when I got close, he helped me with my suitcase.

“How have you been, Sir Dimitri?” I asked, looking around the airport. I spotted the stranger from earlier; he smiled at me before getting into a blue sports car and driving away.

“Getting old by the day, dear. I see that’s not the case for you.” Sir Dimitri was a sweet-talker, just like his boss. Yes, I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but Paul was such a sweet-talker that sometimes I couldn’t blame my mom for being head over heels for him.

Oh, look at how well I lie. What love? Many people—Paul’s family and business associates—think my mom was just after his money. Sometimes I listen and pretend not to have heard; sometimes I try to defend my mom, but deep down, I just want to let them know that they have never been more right.

“Madam has been so happy about your arrival,” he tried to make small talk while driving out of the airport. “She even wrote down plans for you both while you are here.”

Why wasn’t I surprised?

I scrolled through my messages, and at the top was Etsy.

“You bitch, how could you leave without letting me know?” See? I knew she wouldn’t remember me telling her goodbye.

“Okay, Dianne said she thinks you came into the bedroom to say goodbye, so we are all good. Say hi to your mom and have a good flight.” She texted this again after ten minutes. I chuckled and let her know I arrived safely before opening Leone’s message.

“I am sorry, I really am.” That was all she typed, and it left me wondering what she was sorry about—for calling me desperate, or for not being in when I left?

A new message popped in from Harry, adding to the previous ones.

Harry: You left your scent all over my bedroom.

What’s it called?
Your soap.
Shampoo.
Someone called me a jerk on my way to training, someone with the same vocabulary as you.
Let me know once you arrive.
You arrived?

I chuckled at the messages, and I was more than excited that he was thinking of me at all times.

I texted, letting him know I had just arrived home. “Miss Quinn?” Sir Dimitri looked at me in the rearview mirror, and I quickly stuffed my phone in my purse. It was so rude of me to zone out of our conversation.

“Uhm, sorry. So, do you know what these marvelous plans my mom planned for us are? And is Paul included?”

He chuckled like I had asked something funny. “You know he loves you, right?”

“Does he have a choice?” I raised a brow. He was so in love with my mom, and my mom was obsessed with me; to please her, he just had to like me.