CHAPTER TWO

Liam

 Everyone thought I was a workaholic like my father. If only they knew I had spent the last three hours sketching shadows on the office wall.

 I stared bored at the screen of my system as I skimmed over the financial reports emailed to me by my assistant.

 I should've been done hours ago but the shadows on the office wall demanded to be sketched first.

 I glanced down at my wristwatch. It said it was 7:05pm. I sighed deeply. I just had a few more reports to go over and then, I would be done for the day.

 Everyone saw a Carrington in a suit and assumed I was my father reincarnated– tireless, ruthless, built for boardrooms. They were wrong.

 I was that CEO who would come to the office and rather draw or sketch and must get it right before I started anything relating to work.

 I could understand why my assistant always had a weird look on her face every time she asked me about a report she sent to me, and I just said to her, "Haven't looked at that yet."

 Lord knows, if it hadn't been for my father's dying wish, I wouldn't be stuck behind this mahogany desk, pretending to care about being the CEO of the Carrington empire. I'd be somewhere sketching in peace.

 I still remember his words clear as day, as he was dying on the hospital bed from where he was shot twice in his chest, "Take over the CEO position, please Liam." He said as he kept coughing up blood," Everything is in my will anyway…and don't trust anybody. NOBODY, Liam!"

 Those were his final words before he finally gave up the ghost while I kept screaming at him to tell me who shot him. I screamed at the doctors to save him but nothing could be done. He was gone.

 When I looked at the time on my wristwatch again, and it read 7:25pm, and I hadn't finished skimming over all the reports I was sent, I decided to call it a night.

 As I stepped out of my office, my personal bodyguard stood just outside my office, waiting for me, as he always does.

 Immediately, I started walking away toward the elevator; I heard him walking 2 feet behind me. He said on his ear-attached audio comms to the driver," Yo, the boss is on his way out. Bring the car round."

 By the time I exited the building, my BMW was already parked out front with the driver standing by the car, holding the back door open for me.

 He nodded at me, "Good evening, boss. Home?"

 "Nope." I answered him. 

 I knew where I wanted to go, and it wasn't home. I hated home. It reminded me so much of my dad and the fact that I hadn't figured out who exactly murdered my father was pissing me off and making me really uncomfortable. 

 I glanced at my shadow in a suit–my bodyguard– and said, "Take the night off."

 He frowned, a little confused, and said to me, "But I'm supposed to be with you at all times."

 I sighed. He was so stubborn, "Yeah, well, I'm telling you now that you should go home."

 Ever since my father's mysterious murder, I had doubled down on security. But now, I needed to head somewhere. I hadn't been there in a few months since my father died. And that place was private and quite personal to me. I had never taken anyone there. No one even knew about it. It was my safe haven.

 It was my art gallery.

 My personal bodyguard squared his jaw, looking all serious that if I wasn't even his boss, I would be scared of him and do exactly as he said. He shook his head lightly," I'm sorry, boss but imma have to politely disagree. This is exactly why you hired me."

 I sighed. Motherfucker really is stubborn.

 I shrugged," Alright then, you're fired."

 I said in a single breath, no emotion on my face. If there was one thing my father taught me, it was the art of stoicism.

 "Don't ever let them see how you are feeling. Because when that happens, you are vulnerable to all sorts of people." My father would always say.

 The tough, macho man look was wiped from my bodyguard's face in a nanosecond after my statement. His voice almost had a feminine squeal to it as he said, looking alarmed, "What?!"

 I smirked internally, but outside, I kept the perfect poker face. I stepped closer to him, standing only an inch away from him.

 I looked up at him. I was a good 6'2 but he still hovered four inches above me. He was intimidated by how close I was standing and the emotionless look on my face, I could tell. 

 He stepped back slightly, jaw twitching, eyes flicking to the side. I didn't move an inch. I saw him visibly swallow a lump of saliva down his throat.

 I almost laughed at the way little things could make him nervous. But I didn't laugh because of stoicism. Remember?

 I said to him, looking him dead in the eyes," Would you rather be fired or go home now and resume work tomorrow?"

 He looked a bit confused," Uh, resume work tomorrow, boss."

 I nodded," Smart choice. So, go home. You have the night off."

 He didn't argue this time, "Of course, boss."

 Yeah, I thought so too.

 I turned to the driver, who still had the door opened up for me but had a weird look on his face like I was going to fire him too. I said to him," Same goes for you, Williams. Find your way home from here. I'll drive myself."

 He knew better than to argue, "Yes, boss."

 I ignored him and the door that he left open and walked around the car to the driver's seat. By now, Williams had closed the door he opened up. I just got into the car and zoomed off, leaving a bewildered Jackson and an even more bewildered personal bodyguard.

 I smiled broadly because I loved how this night was going already.

 A year ago, I had rented a building with two floors. On the first floor, I had converted to my art gallery, and on the second floor, I had made my art studio and a place where I could hang out alone. It was nothing fancy. It wasn't very pretty because it wasn't for eyes to see. That space was just for me.

 I grinned as I noticed the clouds thickening, the kind of weather that begged for wine, quiet, and a brush in my hand.

 I already knew what I'd paint tonight.

 Maybe something abstract. Maybe something dark.

 I could almost taste the red wine and feel the rough texture of canvas under my fingers.

 I turned up the volume, settled back in my seat, and took the fastest route out of the city, the one no one else knew.

 Just me, the road, and the night.

 And nothing — absolutely nothing — was going to get in my way.

 Or so I thought.