chapter eighty

Tyler POV

"Mr. Mitchell? I noticed you haven't had dinner yet, so I brought your cappuccino," Mariana says, entering the room without knocking, wearing a tight and low-cut skirt.

"Thank you, Mariana, but the last thing I need right now is caffeine," I shrugged, gesturing for her to leave my office and let me be alone.

"Problems with your wife?" She asked, leaning on the table.

"Problems with life," I sighed, stretching my feet on the floor and looking at the office ceiling. The gray walls around me gave a sophisticated air to the environment, but this wasn't my true self. I missed working in the warehouse, with various weapons and men around me that I could command.

"Sorry for being so intrusive, but I think you should rest a bit. It's not good for anyone to occupy the mind too much," she approached carefully.

"Thanks for the advice; I'll do that later," I replied dryly, trying to put an end to the subject.

"How about doing it now?" She said, sitting on the table right in front of me