Chapter 3 A FAMILIAR FACE

RHYS' POV

My blood had boiled over and was now spilling by the time my new driver got to CBC department store. The phone call I received earlier pissed me off so bad that I ended up yelling at her, even though I didn't want to. Not that I said anything untrue though; cause and effect and everything.

All through the ride my new driver kept her face crumpled up in a scowl, which honestly didn't do her pretty face any justice. Her red hair was really messy and there was even a blood smear on her cheek. Safe to say her anger was justified; she looked terrible and she knew it.

She kept sighing and rolling her eyes every now and then and it irritated me. I'm sure all those negative pent up feelings were directed towards me even though she didn't say so.

As expected, the store was a mess. Reporters were gathered outside trying to pry their way in, asking unsuspecting customers ridiculous questions while taking shots of those that tried their best to leave the store unscathed.

I got in the elevator from the underground parking lot and went straight up to the eighth floor to meet the bastard who caused my mood swing this morning. He was sitting in his office wearing a grey three-piece Armani suit, a pair of LV shoes with his hair styled backwards and a Rolex on his wrist. Not a single item from our company. Damn traitor!

"You had a problem in the area you're handling and you decided you wouldn't suffer alone so you pulled that stunt you did with Candice, didn't you?"

The huge grin on his face that appeared when he saw me nearly tipped me over the edge. I wanted to punch him so badly.

"Now, now, Christian, what's the point of only sharing in each other's joys when sorrow is also part of life?" he said, not even trying to deny it.

I hated it when he called me Christian even though that was my name. It made him feel like he was superior to me, calling me by the name only my father called me, and that irked me.

"Do you know what kind of trouble you've caused for Bentorhys-Ciaga?" I asked, clenching and unclenching my fists.

"Enlighten me, Christian, are you referring to yourself or your father or the company when you say Bentorhys-Ciaga? You all kind of have the same name."

"Is this funny to you?"

I tried really hard to remember the words my mother used to say to me: 'Only uneducated people engage in fistfights.'

"Seeing you so worked up? Yes, it is funny to me. You started this, you know that, right Christian?" Malcolm got up from his chair and started walking towards me. "Your driver just had to have been run over in my territory." His expression turned serious and he glared at me as he uttered: "Do you know how mad your father was when he found out this morning? I've never been yelled at by your father like that before."

"So you screwed me over just because you got yelled at? Do you finally see the reason why I tell you that you don't deserve to be the CEO of any company, not less of CBC department store? You're childish and immature."

He laughed out loud like a maniac, and drummed his fingers on his giant oak desk.

"I will not argue with you on that one, Christian. I thought to myself, 'There's no need to be the only one receiving shit from Jericho Bentorhys-Ciaga. Let his son also have a bad morning.' Would you like something to drink?"

The intercom button was pressed and he requested for two cups of tea without waiting for a response from me.

"You thought I wasn't having a bad enough morning? I saw my driver get knocked off his feet like he was some kind of bowling pin and now he's in in the goddamn hospital with a concussion and several broken ribs. Have you ever seen someone's bone stick out from their body? I don't think so Malcolm."

Slowly and predatorily, I approached him, making sure my eyes stayed firm on his. "What the hell did you tell Candice for her to back out of our contract?"

He stepped back a little and smiled sheepishly, and then rolled his eyes playfully as well, giving him the expression of a school boy in love.

"I'm flattered you think I have that kind of control over someone like Candice Cane, but you're wrong. She chose to pull out all on her own. I simply...suggested a couple of things."

Our tea arrived and it was placed on the center table surrounded by four black leather B & B Italia couches. "Please, sit Christian. Let's talk about this diplomatically."

I complied, contrary to what my body actually wanted to do, and sipped the tea that was brought for us.

Green tea. Just fantastic!

"Be honest, Christian, was it fair for Jericho to be mad at me like that? It's not like I was the one that told someone to run Miguel over, right? And I didn't even call the press. I shouldn't have to be treated like that, right?"

I hated the way he talked. He made Miguel's accident sound like a mislabeling at a library.

"There is something sincerely wrong with you. Why did Jericho choose you to be the acting CEO?"

"Because he knows just how competent I am. I'm going to fix this little mess that you created with your driver-bestie and I suggest you do the same with your company. I heard that all the top models are unavailable at the moment. You better start searching for a replacement for Candice before it's too late. I have someone in mind if you're interested."

The mischievous smile that played around his lips made me certain of who he was referring to. He noticed that I got the hint, and he released a throaty laugh.

Malcolm stood up, ending the conversation we were having, and I sat there willing myself to not use violence. It was getting harder to do so; his face looked very punchable.

"One more thing, Christian. The police asked for the security footage for the parking lot. Don't worry, I gave it to them. I do want justice for poor Miguel, you see."

I did not see. He didn't sound like he cared at all.

"Know this one thing Malcolm; you are just an acting CEO. You aren't the real deal. I'm the owner of this department store and when I'm ready for you, your ass will be shipped to Ireland."

The satisfaction in my heart when his face turned sour knew no bounds. No words came out of his mouth and I could feel his cold glare on me as I walked out of his office.

Once I was inside my car and on my way to HQ, I made a call to my lawyer to remind him of the charges we had against Candice. The person manning my car sighed exasperatedly and made a disapproving sound at the back of her throat.

"If you have something to say, just say it," I said when I could no longer bear to listen to her sigh.

"No thank you. I have a feeling I'd be sued if I said anything."

She made emphasis on 'sued' so I guess that was what she had an issue with.

"You don't like how I manage my problems? Tell me, isn't it better that destroying someone's property, especially one that I'm sure I can never afford in this life time?"

She stepped on the brakes so hard and so quickly that if I hadn't had my seatbelt on, I would have gone flying through the windshield. Through the rearview mirror I could see her angry countenance. Oh, how murderous her hazel eyes looked. Dark green and ready to kill.

Slowly, she looked behind and when her eyes finally landed on me, she offered me that fake smile that she gave earlier. "Sorry about that. I'm still not used to this car."

When she flashed me her pearly whites, she looked oddly familiar.

Exhaling sharply, as if realizing that she was in the wrong, she said calmly, "I'm very much aware that violence is never the answer, but sometimes it's the solution – at least to solving your troubled heart's problem. Sometimes, making someone who caused you pain feel what you felt can be all the justice you need." Her words sounded sad and I had a feeling it was concerning the person whose car she was aiming for this morning.

She continued driving at a gentle pace. Her face was back to being normal which made her beauty seep through. Even though it was just her hazel eyes I could see through the mirror clearly, I knew she was still so beautiful.

All the pretty girls are insane.

She looked like she was still in high school, probably a senior. As she drove she kept tucking her hair behind her ear. The blood that was on her cheek was no longer there. I guess she wiped it away while I was inside with Malcolm.

It occurred to me then that I didn't know her name.

"What's your name?"

She looked at me briefly through the rearview mirror before responding: "Denova. Denova Michaelson."

Her name sounded very familiar. I was sure we had met somewhere.

"Have we met before Denova?"

Her brows were furrowed and her lips were curved in distaste. "Is that supposed to be a pick up line?"

I knew she regretted it the moment she spoke the words. I smiled.

"I don't need words to pick you up, Denova."

"Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?" she asked, clearly confused.

"What do you think?" There was a long silence after that. My bet was she was trying to figure out if it was indeed an insult or a compliment.

We arrived at my office and she slowed down when she pulled up to the drive way.

"I can assure you that we have never met sir. I'd have remembered you if we had; I have an eidetic memory you see, and I never forget a face."

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I decided to let Denova off early today since she clearly needed to shower and eat. I had to drive myself home after searching for a replacement for Candice with the rest of the PR team while also trying so hard to calm my father down and convince him to not return home. I wasn't really in the mood to see him. It was hard enough having to see my brother everyday. With him back, my 12,000 square feet gated mansion would seem like a tiny jail cell.

I punched in the passcode to my front door and opened it. The lights automatically came on, revealing the grand hallway that led straight to my living room. Of course, with the kind of luck I had, my step brother just happened to be passed out on my expensive white couch from B & B Italia, drooling on it with a half empty bottle of beer in his hand, while my living room looked like the inside of a cheap club on a Saturday morning.

He had another party, and this time around he invited more friends. Oh, the temptation to strangle him in his sleep!

"What did I say about throwing parties inside my house, Russell?" I asked him after I had managed to wake him up. His eyes were out of focus, and it took him a while to settle them on me."Hey, look, it's you," he slurred. "You're back so soon. I thought something bad happened to you. I heard the news from Mira."

I had no idea who Mira was and I didn't care. My house was a mess and my cleaners were away.

He tried to stand up, and fell back on the couch, groaning loudly as he did so.

"I have asked you multiple times to keep the social pariahs you call friends out of my living space. What the hell happened to the pool house, or the guest quarters or even the freaking sun room that you couldn't gather them there, huh?"

"You are so annoying, Rhys, you nag a lot."

"Russell, if you keep this up..." He rudely interrupted me by slamming the bottle of beer he was holding hard on my Venetian center table.

"You're what? Going to send me to Ireland?" He scoffed. "Dad wouldn't let you "

"Believe me when I tell you that dad doesn't give two shits about you," was what I wanted to say, but I opted for: "There are worse places than Ireland Russell. Don't tempt me."

He could see how dark my eyes became, how pissed I was through the huge veins that were popping out of my forehead. I wasn't a sadist or anything, but I always liked when he squirmed each time he saw my face. He needed a reminder that he wasn't all that he claimed to be when he was with his good for nothing friends.

"I didn't ask to be here Rhys!" he yelled.

Here we go again.

Sensing the direction in which this was headed, I chose to ignore him and make my to my bedroom upstairs.

"Neither did I. Stop making it sound like I'm making your life miserable Russell. You live under my roof, spend my money, and talk to me however way you want. All I ask in return is that you do not live like an animal in my domain. Don't invite your friends over if you guys can't have a decent gathering like proper human beings. I know you grew up in the rough part of town, but don't make that an excuse to act uncivilized. I hate filth; don't become what I hate Russell."

Oh, how much he hated me! I could practically feel the heat emanating from his whole body as he glared daggers at me while I ascended the stairs. I had to call the cleaning service that night to clean up. There was no way I was going to sleep properly knowing what was below me.

Not that I slept properly to begin with.

Russell yelled some words that I was just too uninterested in paying attention to, and a few seconds later I heard the front door close. I hoped while I took off my clothes that he wouldn't be back.

At least not until I felt like having a brother again.