My Perfect Lady - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"Ah, Rebecca Freeman," his heart sang in relief right then, "I owe you for coming to the rescue!"
Immediately, he turned around and cleared his throat.
Miya, who had been lost in her own confused world, hugged Ben but didn't look into the young master's eyes. Jimmy understood the awkwardness between them, of course, so he spoke in a nonchalant, obvious tone.
"I got a text. Your sis Becky is finally back to her senses."
Albeit Miya was annoyed at Jim's usage of words, but her reaction was fast. She quickly got up from the beach chair, adjusted Ben in her hold, and hurriedly said to Jim, "Let's go."
Jim smirked at the response.
It was too easy to distract his woman.
He maintained his expression and nodded solemnly though, and then got up from the chair as well. Then looking at the sun, which was now barely visible above the horizon, he bade it a farewell and walked towards the exit. Miya too gave the sun a glance.
She felt no special connection to it, but she did smile at the sand and the clas.h.i.+ng waves. She had the urge to walk into the water just one last time, but she shrugged at the thought. She was going to miss the beach a lot.
They walked back all the way from where they had come. It was a long walk, but Miya was sufficiently rested, and was now energized. And when she saw the young master pull out his phone and take two quick pictures of the castle that he and Ben had built, her heart melted. This man was strange, but in some stranger ways, he was just too kind.
When they had finally worn their shoes, and sat in the car, the atmosphere was back to being awkward.
Jimmy kept on glancing at Miya through the corner of his eyes, thoroughly unhappy that her eyes were still red and her cheeks puffy from the tears. When he couldn't deal with it anymore, he pulled out his handkerchief and stretched his hand in her direction.
"There's a water bottle in the compartment in front," he said plainly, "Wash your face."
Miya looked up at the man, then nodded, taking the handkerchief from his hands. Something stirred in Jimmy, and his heart dropped. He couldn't control the weird feeling spreading inside him, and therefore blurted out, "Are you okay?"
Miya was slightly surprised, and she spilled some of the water onto herself. Then hurriedly dabbing her eyes and her arm, she nodded a "yes".
Jim nodded as well.
When the young master was not looking, Miya fixed her gaze on him. Earlier, this man had made that sh*t of a joke, just so that she would stop crying. And he had also said something so sweet… "Adorable" right?
Did he mean it, when he had called her that?
Jim, of course, knew that the wife was watching him. So he resolutely watched the road in front, his heart skipping a few beats at the same time.
What was she looking at?
And almost suddenly, his phone rang up.
A thousand curses roiled through the young man, as he took the call, and barked a "Yes?" into the phone. The expression on his face grew darker, and he furiously muttered a, "Remove him," before finally hanging up.
The moment had pa.s.sed though, and his wife was paying him no attention anymore. She was busy looking at the streets.
Jimmy almost sulked.
But then, she spoke.
"You could be wrong, you know," she said, and her voice was soft, "Maybe Becky was just too tired, and wanted to rest."
Oh f***.
Jim didn't have the heart to retort to her statement and dishearten her further. He already blamed himself for making her cry. Now, if he contested that her Becky was in all logical probability still an addict, maybe the missus would cry again.
So he shrugged instead.
"Maybe," he replied.
Miya was satisfied by his response. She didn't pursue the matter any further. In its place though, she landed a bomb.
"Will you help her?"
Her voice was as quiet as a haunted night.
Jim's face steeled, and he was torn between being a jerk and playing nice. Finally, he gave in. He couldn't tell the wife that he won't directly, so he chose a dubious answer instead.
"I'll see," he said.
"Is that a no?"
"No."
Neither spoke again, until they had finally reached the library.
It was almost evening now, and the wind had turned cold. Miya s.h.i.+vered slightly, uncomfortable in the dress. But before she got out of the car, something flashed through her head. She quickly turned to Jim.
"Mr. Hunter," she said, "Will you hold Ben for a second? I want to go in and check on Becky first. In case she is in… an unsightly condition, I don't want Ben to wake up and see."
Jim frowned.
"There's no need, you know, I can just ask the man –"
"Please?"
Somehow, her voice was urgent. Jim couldn't argue, so he simply spread his arms and held the little boy.
Miya smiled thankfully.
Once she had left the car and had walked into the library, Jim tried to imitate the way in which she had held Ben. When he couldn't, he just the put the kid on his lap so his head was rested on his stomach.
Then he waited for Miya to come.
Miya walked into the library calmly.
Her heart was steady, but her head felt heavy. She didn't want to confront Becky, but most of all, she didn't know how to react if Jimmy Hunter was right. What if Becky was indeed lying?
What if she had never escaped her past?
Well… to be honest, n.o.body ever did. But couldn't she have tried?
Shrugging, Miya stabled her steps and called out loud.
"Rebecca!"
Strangely, she received no response.
When Miya called out twice again, and heard no answer, she was nervous. Hadn't Mr. Hunter said she was awake?
And instantly, her brain was haunted by the thought of his words.
"Unless of course, while you were all asleep, she got up at night and took a dose or two of marijuana. Or whatever the h.e.l.l she takes." That was exactly what he had said.
With a thumping heart, Miya walked hurriedly into the parlour, careful not to step on the numerous books lying haphazardly on the floor.
Once she was about to open the door though, her instinct revolted. Her senses sharpened, and she was instantly on alert.
She could hear something cras.h.i.+ng inside, and then a slight m.u.f.fle. The voices raised for a moment, and then quietened.
Oh f***.
This was clearly the indication of a struggle!
Instantly on alert, Miya calmed down, then held her breath. From the footsteps, she judged there were probably two people inside. Counting in her head to five, she picked up a hefty book with sharp edges. Then she creaked open the door.
To her horror, she saw that a huge man was standing inside the parlour, bent over Becky. From where Miya stood, she could only view his left profile, as the man had Becky crushed onto a table. He held her by the throat, as he pressed the woman's face into the desk. Becky was gasping for air, and scratching at his hands, but the guy was huge even for Rebecca. He stood directly behind her, barring any movement of hers.
It was when Miya saw the man start to unb.u.t.ton his pants, that all her sense was lost.
What happened next was simply a reflex.
Aiming for the man's left eye, Miya threw the book at his face, so that one of the sharp edges stabbed the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's eye. The man roared in pain as the book hit its mark, his hand automatically letting go of Rebecca's neck. He held his eye, and then glared in Miya's direction.
The girl was ready.
As the man roared in outrage and ran towards her, Miya swung another hefty book in her hand. This one was with a hard cover, its edges plated in metal. The man's eyes flinched, and he cleverly s.h.i.+elded his other eye.
Only, Miya hadn't been aiming for the eye at all.
She threw the book directly at the man's crotch, one of the metallic edges. .h.i.tting him hard. Horror filled the man's face. But before he could react, Miya picked up a chair and smashed it into his knees.
The man buckled.
Her rage, however, was still not satisfied. So once the man crouched over, dearly covering his bottom as his knees bled, Miya smashed the chair into his back. The a.s.sh*le spat out blood.
And just when the girl was about to smash the b.l.o.o.d.y chair into the back of his head, somebody held her hand.
Her fury trebled, but she recognized the touch. For a second, she had the urge to make the hit anyway, but then she stopped. Glaring at the man holding her hand, she furiously muttered,
"F*** off."
Jimmy Hunter didn't move.