Chapter two

Jazmine's POV

What was he talking about? I wondered as I slowly turned back. I had already apologized. What more does he want?

I cleared my throat nervously as he approached me in sliw strides as if taking his time, so as to induce fear in me. When he trained his eyes in me again, the chill me deepened and I had an urge to look away. The man have off an air that commanded submission and he looked like he took delight in seeing people succumb to his dominance.

For that very reason, I refused to buckle and I gave him a leveled gaze of my own. "I'm so sorry, Mister. I never intended for something like that to happen. I didn't do it on purpose. But if you insist, how about you give me your account details and I wire the money for the laundry to you."

The man cocked his head, seemingly amused and entertained at my words. "Are you sure you can pay for my laundry? I think what you should be worrying about is if the stain would go off at all."

In my heart of heart, even as I told him I would pay for the laundry, I knew I'd probably have to use my last card. But then, what was that about if I would be able to pay for the laundry? How much does the cloth even cost, that I wouldn't be able to pay for the laundry. It was just a white shirt after all. Plus it was ordinary wine and it would wipe off the cloth. What was he on about?

"Sir," I began, choosing my words carefully. "The wine would wipe off if it's carefully washed. I could take it to a laundromat and wash it myself."

He stared at me for a while without saying a word, then suddenly started laughing. I could hear the sneer beneath his laughter. He was completely mocking me and I wouldn't take that. I could feel faint heat slowly stealing over my face. I had so much going on in my head already to deal with something like this. If care wasn't taken, I would just vent all my frustrations on this man.

"Sir, what do you want then?" I asked stiffly.

"I want compensation obviously, but the question is if you can afford it. This white shirt happens to be my favourite and this wine is also very expensive and rare. It's a premium 1950 Madeira wine. It doesn't come off clothes easily. So, I hope you've realized what you just did. Not only did you ruin my favourite shirt, you also spilled my drink, which is the most annoying part!"

I shivered at the coldness that laced his words. He couldn't possibly be serious. I bumped into him by mistake. But then, what was he even doing right in front of the door in the first place? It was as much of his fault as mine too. So what was he whining about?

I couldn't bear to say that out loud though. Instead, I said. "I'm deeply sorry for ruining your shirt and spilling your drink. I'll pay in whichever way I can. Just tell me what I should do."

He paused and seemed to consider it for a while. Then he looked back at me and I could see the mischievous intentions dancing beneath his gray depths. I hope it wasn't what I was thinking.

"Since you insist on paying with anything, how about you pay with your body?" He said casually, like it was a normal thing. I quickly pegged him as a womanizer. I felt offended. What did he take me for?

My first instinct was to slap his face but I knew I would regret it. I just knew from the way he was staring at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling and exhaling to calm my nerves down. When I opened my eyes again, he was no longer there and I frowned in confusion.

Did he decide to leave or did he disappear? I scanned the cafe and realized that he was not even in sight. A wave of relief flooded my nerves and I quickly went out of the cafe and took a cab back to the company, where I worked as a cleaner.

As I entered the company, a thought occurred to me. What if I asked the general manager for help. I could beg him to pay me ten months salary in advance, that should be able to cater for Layla's hospital bills and surgery too.

Refueled with a newly found hope, my feet made their way to Mr O'Connor's office. I forgot to knock and entered.

He looked up from his desktop to scowl at me. "I'm so sorry sir. I forgot."

He brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "What do you want?" He said in his usual rude manner.

"Sir, please I need your help. My sister has been hospitalized for a while now, and the hospital bill is due, plus she needs to get-----"

Mr O'Connor interrupted. "Like I asked earlier, what do you want? I wouldn't love you to bore me out with your sob story. How do you want me to help?"

"Sir, is it possible to get about ten months salary in advance?" I asked, hoping his answer would be positive.

"What!?" He frowned his face. "What do you think you're talking about? Why would I do that? Look here, this isn't my company. I don't have the rights to do so, unless you are wishing for me to go to jail."

I felt my heart sink at his words. Even if he was going to say no, he could have at least said it a less painful way. I stood up to leave. What was I even thinking before, when I came in?

I turned the door knob and stepped outside when I heard him say, "I think I could help you though, but are you ready to do whatever it

takes to get the money?"