Chapter 29
Cedric stood cautiously by the car, piping up gingerly.
“Boss, the missus might not have caught your drift. Want me to go fetch her?”
“No need, just drive!” The man’s deep voice was the epitome of indifference.
Not daring to chitchat, Cedric hopped in the car and took off.
As the car slowly passed the slender figure on the roadside, the man’s cold sneer followed.
“What, no grub and the car won’t go?”
Sweat beaded on Cedric’s forehead, and just as he floored it, a big box came flying in from behind.
“Dump it.”
Cedric slowed down in a hurry and turned to see a cake box wedged between the seats; his face was a picture of hesitation.
Remington leaned back in his seat, with his eyes slightly lifting, and gave Cedric the
once–over.
“She doesn’t give a hoot about it; the alley cats and dogs aren’t so fussy.”
Cedric, with a heavy heart, stepped out and ditched the cake box on the curb.
Just then, Lizetta walked up, and Cedric quickly whispered under his breath.
“Madam, it was the boss‘ orders.”
The boss was hell–bent on a collision course, and there was no stopping him.
Lizetta’s gaze fell; there went a cake worth thousands.
She felt that she was probably much like that cake in Remington’s eyes – all glitz on the surface, but easily discarded, not worth a second thought.
She bent down and picked up the cake.
Inside the car, Remington silently watched this unfold, and the corners of his lips curled into the slightest of smiles.
That smile grew a tad as he watched Lizetta come towards him with the cake in hand.
He reached for the door handle, ready to open it for her, but Lizetta walked straight to the front of the car instead.
Remington’s brow furrowed slightly, only to see her stand in front of the car, locking eyes with him through the windshield.
She arched a brow, gave a little smile, and flipped the box, splattering the cake on the Windshield.
The cake smeared across the glass, and it slowly slid down, obscuring Remington’s view.
Lizetta, with a knee on the hood, leaned in and started drawing on the creamy windshield.
From the back seat came an icy stare, and Lizetta couldn’t help but snicker.
Where did this jerk get the confidence to think she’d just hop into his car at the snap of his fingers?
The roar of an engine drew near as a biker kid in a black leather jacket pulled up beside the car, then he rested a leg on the bike and turned to look.
“Damn, using a million–dollar windshield as a canvas.”
Lizetta flipped her hair; her blonde locks and red lips as well as heing eyes
made her distractingly gorgeous, and the kid’s whistle died before it even started.
Crap, the car’s not worthy of that face.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the beauty hopped off the hood and strode over to his bike’s pillion seat.
“Let’s roll.” Lizetta patted the kid’s shoulder.
The kid suddenly felt like the chosen one, triumphing over a multimillion–dollar car with underdog pride.
He gave the middle finger to the man who got out of the car, all cool and provoking.
“Wildflower on the run, highway escape’- I’m digging this plot.” The kid shouted to Lizetta as he lowered the visor, “Buckle up, miss!”
Lizetta wrapped her arms around his waist, and with a thunderous rev, the bike shot off like a bolt of lightning.
Remington stepped out of the car, only catching a glimpse of her skirt’s edge fluttering away.
In less than half a minute, Cedric scrambled to the road, gaping at a windshield smeared with a few strokes of cream yet unmistakably depicting a turtle.
Why the hell is there three green strokes on the turtle’s head? What’s with the green–haired turtle?
“Nice? Funny?”
A voice rang out from behind, and Cedric instinctively replied.
“Good.”
He turned and, upon facing Remington who was so icy that it seemed he was shedding Icicles, he instantly clammed up.
Boss, I’ll take care of it right away.”
Cedric went back to the car for cleaning supplies, but even the jack–of–all–trades secretary wasn’t a master of all – especially not cleaning.
By the time Remington finished his cigarette, Cedric had smeared cream all over the windshield, which completely obstructed the view.
Remington watched his hapless secretary, feeling his headache intensifying.
Cedric slumped, feeling wronged, and he wished to say:
Oh, my boss, the lady’s hard to please, and you’re not doing any better. Why’d you have to rile her up?
At the entrance of the Happy Community, the bike came to a stop.
Lizetta got off and turned to leave, but the kid leaned over and grabbed her arm.
“Miss, how about adding me on WhatsApp? We did share an escape, after all.”
He was reaching for his phone when Lizetta swiftly grabbed his arm, twisted it behind him, and pushed him back onto the bike.
