F I V E.

TOUGH WOMAN.

Philip.

Striding out of Giordana Quinton's office, anger was the only emotion I felt.

The woman is tougher than I expected. Aside from the fact that she's quick-witted, she's also very daring and except for my parents, no one has ever spoken to me that way.

Asking her to marry me was not something I fancied, but something that was important. My Father had stated that for me to get his shares so that I could have the company completely, I had to get married. 

Not that he was forcing me, the major shareholders were doubting my capabilities as I was not a 'man with responsibilities', In other words, I was not married.

I had worked in that company and dreamed of owning it, hence my decision to accept the criteria.

Not that I love Giordana, I do not even believe in love. As far as I am concerned, it's just an illusion; How people would hurt themselves and others all in the name of 'love' was forever beyond me. I have vowed to myself not to love anybody asides from my family.

 As for Giordana, Her innocent face, lush brunette hair packed in a bun, and beautiful large brown eyes were captivating. The woman was effortlessly gorgeous.

At the wedding, I had bumped into her on purpose.

Entering the church that day, I sighted this petite lady sashaying to the back. I wanted to flirt with her and probably get her into my bed by the end of the day but her reaction was something I didn't expect, hell! her mouth and her stature don't go together at all. Seeing her stature you'd think she was this shy girl type but she proved me completely wrong.

I had to forfeit the plan of flirting. The fire in her eyes made her look sexier, holding her close was an exquisite feeling. At that moment, I was dying to taste those luscious red lips which by the way I ended up paying for as she brutally kneed me in the groin.

I admit that spilling wine on her was an immature action, but she bruised my ego so much that I just had to retaliate.

Having my private investigator do a background check on her, I found out she was the daughter of George Quinton. My joy knew no bounds as her father was my father's very close friend which made it a lot easier for me, although It came as a surprise because I never knew that he had a daughter.

When I threatened to destroy his company and she didn't flinch, I knew that she's really stubborn and hard-headed.

Arriving back in my office, I attended the board members' meeting scheduled to take place at one pm.

"Good afternoon sir." My personal assistant, Laura Davidson greeted me after the meeting.

I admired Laura for her diligence and the fact that she never tried to make any amorous advances toward me. She was a very beautiful and decent lady.

I had considered asking her to marry me but discovered she's engaged.

Acknowledging her greeting with a nod, I asked, "What's left on my schedule?"

"Nothing sir, you're free for the rest of the day and your mother called thrice when you were out," She replied and I left the meeting room.

My mother, Rebecca Forbes Is the only woman with exception of my sisters whom I love with all my heart.  Kind, lovely, graceful, caring, and industrious but she could be really strict where she deemed it fit. She has been in my neck for me to get married already, to which I always declined. I wanted to enjoy my bachelor's life but with the present situation, that plan of mine was again futile.

Not that I am a playboy I just was accustomed to enjoying myself once in a while. 

Plopping on the recliner stationed behind my desk, I removed my personal cell phone from my pocket before dialing my mother's number. 

"Hey, Mom," I greeted her when she answered the call after three rings.

"Hey, my baby boy how are you doing?" She asked in a cheery tone.

"Mo..m," I groaned, "I'm a man now. Would you please stop calling me that?"

"No my baby," she chuckled softly, "you're still a baby to me."

I huffed grumpily. "Alright mom what's the occasion, why did you call?"

"Can't I check on my baby, or you don't have time for your poor mother again?" she queried, her tone dropping in an octave

"No mom, you know that's not what I meant. I'm just asking if all is well."

"Everything's fine. I just called to ask if you can make it to dinner tonight at 7?"

"Sure, I can."

"Okay then. Thanks, baby, don't keep your mum waiting for too long, okay? Love you!" 

I grunted in response. That word was hard to leave my lips.

"Bye."

On reaching my penthouse at almost thirty minutes past five,  I showered in preparation for the dinner. Deciding to dress casually, I opted for a navy blue shirt and dark blue jean trouser with a pair of white Adidas sneakers.

By the time I was done,  it was already twenty-five minutes past six. Not wanting to waste more time as the drive to my parents' took thirty minutes, I hopped into my black Audi A8 and drove off.

When I got to the family house, the time was six minutes to seven. Stepping into the house, the tantalizing aroma of baked potatoes hit my nostrils.

"My baby!" My mother squealed catching me off guard.

"I'm so excited to see you. I thought you had forgotten about me!"

"Mom" I grumbled. "We both know I can't forget you, I've been quite busy lately. Can I go eat now? I've missed your cooking," I added and she smiled.

"Of course, I prepared it especially for you. You look so skinny now, if only you agreed to stay back home then," she grumbled.

Leaving the house at the age of twenty-five was not something my mother was happy about. She begged and pleaded for me to stay but I did not want to. The reason was simple; she was not comfortable about me staying on my own.

All my middle school to high school years, I was home-schooled as a result of my being socially awkward because of what happened to me as a child. She was very reluctant to let me attend college outside the states so I ended up attending college from home. 

She threw a huge fit when I informed her of my decision to live alone, packing out against her wish, she refused to speak to Dad and me for nearly a month but she later got used to it.

"Aren't we well past that stage now mom?" I asked.

She scoffed in reply. "Whatever, go see your father." 

Shaking my head with a wry smile, I sauntered further in to meet my father.

"Good evening Dad," I greeted.

"Hey Phil, how are you?"

"I'm good old man. you?"

"I'm okay man, old man's getting old," He replied chuckling.

"Old age is a blessing." I chipped in earning a nod of agreement.

Truly it was, as my parents were a real definition of aging gracefully. My mother, at forty-nine, looked thirty while my father, at fifty-four, looked forty; both facially and in shape. They were both physically fit.

We conversed for a little while after the sumptuous dinner, mostly about business deals, contracts, and the company. 

"Philip?"

"Sir?"

"How's it going? What are you going to do about what the board members stated?"

"Oh that, I'll do it," I declared.