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2. The Violent Urges

Emara Stone

My chest rumbles with a growl as the beast wakes up from its long peaceful sleep and stares at the girl who almost ripped him apart.

At least from inside.

My eyes refuse to blink as I look at her. Five three-ish in height, pale skin, a button nose, small mouth and big hazel eyes which stare back at me wide and shocked.

Just like how I met her for the first time.

Her eyes were the first thing I noticed in her. Deep forest colour with a mixture of sunshine and wood.

Home. That’s what it felt like when I used to look into her eyes and it somewhat enticed my beast.

But now, I want to lit that forest on fire and burn down every tree to ashes which reminds me of her. Everything in me wants to shred her apart piece by piece.

I slowly stand up. My shoulders square in confidence while uncertain fear crawls up to her innocent looking face.

The face which once made my heart race, now pumps my veins with liquid rage.

“Please. Come in.” I control the violent urges and let the professionalism take over me.

I don’t know what she is doing here or how she got here. Nevertheless, this interview is another ladder for me to get on the front page of InLine magazine.

Emara tries hard to pull a smile but couldn’t hide the fear masking on her pretty panicked face.

It’s been three years. The last time I saw her, she was crying while telling me how she lied about me to the cops and got me arrested to save the love of her life.

My chest rumbles with a silent roar as I take a step towards her. I lock my fingers tightly as they itch to grab her neck.

“Please, have a seat.”

I cannot forget that night. Even if I try, my nightmares won’t let me forget.

Like a curious cat, she looks around my cabin. From walls to the table her eyes run through everything and suddenly, my chest swells with proudness.

Yeah! I achieved it all.

I walk around my table haughtily and sit on my hard-earned chair. Nothing makes me feel more pleased knowing the girl who sent me to jail, is now here to take my interview for my success.

Emara looks nervous. Her hips accentuate like the curl of S as she sits on the couch in front of me. My couch.

I sit back with my beast and let my eyes do the observing. Red shirt and a classic black skirt. She is no more that naive looking girl I met three years ago. Instead, she has grown into a beautiful woman with beautiful curves.

She possesses a figure that somewhat pleases my inner animal.

My attention goes to her long, smooth, slender legs like a deer as she criss-cross them with a feeling of unease.

“Are you not comfortable sitting there? Do you want to sit in a chair?” The question slips out of my lips and I find myself rising, ready to give my throne to her.

Her hazel eyes widen in shock. “No. No. I was just settling.” She says anxiously and I want to punch myself in the face.

WHY THE FUCK DID I SAY THAT?

I am very particular about what I speak and always stay in control of my mind. And it displeases me the way I just simped myself for her, again.

I curse my heart and clutch my fist in anger as I watch her set up the recorder and start the interview. “Mr. Black.” She looks up at me.

But I am not ready.

I was.

I just need a little time to cool down after seeing her. I press on the intercom and say, “Bring a coffee for Miss Stone.”

I bite my tongue as I forgot to mention my name as well. Ah, shit! I need a fucking hard drink to get my head straight.

“How come an undergrad major, IT aspirant could build a company that is overpowering the old timers in industrial science? What is your secret?”

Her voice reaches to my ear and my mind swim in nostalgia. I take a deep breath, taking control of my nerves and command myself to be the person she came here to interview.

Dakota Black. The teflon king of 2022.

“There is no secret. It’s intelligence having fun with creativity.” Confidence hums out of me in waves.

“Keeping up with the technology and discovering new innovations is the key element to stand out in any market. Having faith in the future execution of the company is terms of valuation is another important aspect.”

She gives a small nod and looks down to read another question. A lock of free hair falls on her face like curtains and I tilt my head to look at her.

A tick of irritation rattles in my head and I want to tie her hair up, which is getting in the way of my view.

“It says you left your internship with Tesla and started your own company, which now provides machine learning and AI to Tesla. Why so much hypocrisy?”

Hypocrisy?

Something pokes in my chest. Something tiny, yet painful like a fine sword, deepening in my heart. It’s the memories from past seeping out of the small hole, created by her words.

The humiliation and the pain I felt from three years ago surfaces on my skin. Fire flares in my chest, the disgrace I went through because of her burns on my flesh like acid.

I liked this girl. Genuinely.

I was down for her. I would have done anything and everything for her.

And she fucked me over.

Suddenly, the door opens and my secretary walks in with a cup of coffee. I immediately mask the unwelcomed emotions on my face and take a deep breath to calm my raging nerves.

Emara dips her head, hiding behind the mug as she innocently sips. The tick of irritation pricks in my brain deeply and I stand up frustratingly.

“I believe in excellence and individualistic work, Miss Stone.” I close my suit’s button, which highlights my narrow waist and call attention to my shoulders.

My feet take me towards her and I sit at the adjacent side, from where I can see her face clearly.

“My goal is not to just print dollars, but to make the modern AI reachable to every stream. Hence, HighBar services are not limited to Tesla, or government’s EV automobile program, but to architecture, security and safety, home appliances, and keeping more room for quotidian areas.” I proudly boost about my company.

Her face looks flushed and eyes wide in shock. I am pretty sure it is not because of my answer, rather the close proximity.

Is my presence making her nervous?

I hold back my tongue as I look at the voice recorder on the table. It is a 2014 Chinese wireless model with limited storage and a horrible battery life.

The company couldn’t even afford a good quality recorder for an interview and again, what the hell is she doing here?

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