Chapter 17 TRAP
\[7 AM, BLCKTHORN AUTOMOBILE\]
Rage. Fury—that was all Ixora could feel within her. A deep feeling of anger—one she has never felt before. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t control it, and to think she did nothing wrong kept fueling the rage within her.
Ixora’s eyes were cold and distant as she stared at the coffee she was brewing. They got colder by the minute as the memories of how he had burnt her keytar kept haunting her. She had initially thought about quitting her job, but what good would it do her? She plans to quit...not without giving Drexton a dose of his own medicine.
He had burned her mini-keytar on a cold night. Now he would watch how she burns his tongue with the hot coffee she was going to serve him.
She carefully placed the hot steaming coffee on the plate below it.
“He loves drinking coffee, doesn’t he?” she smiled viciously as she made her way to his office.
She reached his office door and placed a gentle knock on the door before going in.
She scoffed inwardly when she saw he had already drowned himself in his workload.
Her breath caught, mainly from staring at him. She had to shake her head to snap herself out of the fantasy.
Who would have thought the most adored billionaire was the most wanted killer as well...
“Sir, your coffee,” she kept it on his table and stepped back without leaving the office.
It would be fun watching him drink the coffee, burn his tongue and probably spill some on his pants and then his...
“Stop being silly.”
Drexton carried the saucer, and his hand stopped midway when it was a few inches away from his lips.
Ixora’s heart sank, as goosebumps immediately covered her body.
“Has he figured it out?” she thought.
His eyes met hers, and for a moment, Ixora regretted doing it. She couldn’t understand what the look was about. Just seeing the hot smoke that was radiating from it would make him find out.
Her eyes widened madly when she saw how he gulped down the entire coffee.
“S...sir,” she stuttered,
How was that even possible?
“Make another,” Drexton instructed.
Ixora’s eyes were still widened madly.
“Sir?”
“Don’t make me say it again.”
Ixora gulped as she went and carried the cup. She began walking out of the office while Drexton’s eyes were fixed on her until she was out.
His lips then curled into an evil smirk as he closed the file he was working on and sank deeper into the chair.
“She became bold overnight. Interesting,” he said, swirling the chair sideways.
“Little killer. Game of revenge. Hot coffee...and tactile hypoesthesia.” The cruel smirk danced on his lips.
He knew the coffee was hot when he brought it closer to his lips. His disorder made it possible for him to gulp it at once without feeling the hotness.
He could see her eyes go wide when he drank it...that was why she was hesitant about getting another one.
“Ixora Castellan,” he muttered, and as if she heard him call her name, she chose that time to walk in.
His upper lip twitched when he saw the excessive vapor evaporating from the coffee.
“S... sir, here is—”
“Drink it,” he ordered.
Ixora blinked her eyes repeatedly.
“Sir?” She asked to be sure of what she heard.
“Don’t make me repeat it.” His cold voice sank deep into her.
She gulped down nothing, staring at the hot coffee she was holding. The coffee was hotter than the first one, since the first one she had made seemed not to affect him, and now he wanted her to drink it.
“Time, Ixora,” he said, bringing her back to reality.
She stared at him, then at the piping-hot coffee she had in her hand. She picked up the cup, bringing it closer to her lips. The hotness emanating from the coffee brought sweat to her face. Just before the cup could touch her lips, she loosened her hold on the cup, and a shattering sound followed next with the contents spilling onto the marbled floor. She stepped back with a jerk.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, sir,” she said quickly, feigning innocence.
The former smirk Drexton had on his face returned as he stared at the little thief trying to act innocent.
“You will get another cup. Just like this one—same height...same design,” he said slowly with his eyes focused on her.
“Okay, sir.” She responded and bent down, picking some of the broken pieces into the tray.
“I’ll get this cleaned up,” she said, staring at him one last time before leaving.
The smirk on Drexton’s face was replaced by a dark gaze as he stared at the exit door as though he could see her right through the closed door.
He knew she wouldn’t get her tongue burned by the coffee. He knew she was going to drop the coffee on the floor—he expected it...and now, she should be ready to play his games. She just fell into another trap of his—the one of claims. This time he’d let her know that he was her beginning—and he... is going to be her end.
\[MMISS MODELING AGENCY\]
The top-tier modeling agency in New York. Polished concrete floors that stretched beneath spotlights cast a neutral glow over the furniture. The neutral-toned walls doubled as backdrop castings, designer samples and floor-to-end mirrors which acted as backdrop mirrors.
On the stage was a model, dressed in a black bikini, red summer hat to go with her glasses. She had killer shapes as she posed for the photographer.
The photographer sighed when he saw that the picture lacked its spirit. Bonnie saw the expression and took off the hat and shades.
“Bonnie, what is wrong? You aren’t getting it right, which is so unlike you. You have been waiting for the opportunity to model for Solara swim and—”
“I need to take a break,” Bonnie said.
“But Bonnie, you...”
“Now.” Bonnie interrupted her manager, who sighed and covered her with a robe, leading her to her private changing room. She sat down with a sigh, remembering the office incident. She remembered how Drexton had ignored her, only for him to stare at that girl.
“Why did Drex stare at her that way? Is he in love with her?” She mumbled.
“No, no, no, that can’t be it. I’ve known Drexton for a long time now, and he doesn’t love.”
“And that stupid informer hasn’t called me yet,” she hissed out in annoyance.
Just at that minute, her phone rang. She hastily picked it up.
“Miss, we’ve found some information about that girl,” the informer’s voice sounded from the other end.
“Tell me”
“She’s the daughter of the entrepreneur and the first lady, Mr and Mrs Castellan. She goes by the name Ixora Castellan.”
“Just that?” Bonnie asked, her face squeezing into a frown.
“There isn’t much information about her. We were able to find out that she once used to stalk a well-known billionaire, Mr Drexton Blackthorn.”
Bonnie’s eyes darkened as she hung up the call.
“What did he say?” Stacy asked.
“She once stalked Drexton,” Bonnie muttered.
“And do you think he knows? I mean the stares and everything. He may be aware of it and—”
Her manager walked towards them, prompting her to stop.
“You should be getting ready for your next shoot, Stacy. You and Skye will be on the next cover.”
\[DREXTON’S HOUSE, 9 PM\]
Drexton stood in front of the mirror in his room, checking out the burn on his tongue. That’s right, the hot coffee did burn his tongue, but he couldn’t feel the pain. He applied some ointment to it, then walked back to sit on the couch.
Drew came to him almost immediately. He gently stroked the wolf’s fur, reminiscing about the incident that took place in the office. She built courage and bravery overnight, but can she really escape his plans for her? He knew she’d never be able to get another cup like the one she broke.
The cup was customized, made specially for him, and only for him. And when she returns with a different cup, the game will begin.
She’d be terrified by the insanity he was going to display. The intensity of his torment would be enough to drive her insane. She had no idea what he had stored for her.
He’s going to torment her—more than darkness itself. He’ll haunt her, just like a merciless shadow—she won’t be able to escape him, not even in her dreams.
His phone chimed, he took it, and it was a message from Jaxon.
Jaxon: Hideout, now
“Go,” he told Drew, who immediately came down from him and left.
He stood slowly, leaving the house with slow steps, the night wind going in rhythm to his every movement.