Eight

Desmond was quite shocked,so he quickly looked away so as not to appear weird. He was quite cynical about who the thought belonged to. Was it his? The grumpy lady before him had not uttered a word to him for a few minutes now. She had not opened those lips that looked cravingly soft.

But those thoughts seemed to be hers?  He had heard her thoughts again. It was so confusing. He could not get it off his mind, since it had never happened to him before. He had never been able to read anyone's mind. That was impossible to him. It seemed so hard to believe. It could not be true. He probably had just been imagining those thoughts himself.

He decided to shove the thought off. But still, the woman looked sad. He watched intently as she walked toward him. Few steps to him, she halted and looked up at him with pure sadness written on her face in bold writing which masked the beautiful, happy and hopeful make up she had worn when she had arrived. He suddenly felt sorry for her.

He opened his mouth to talk, but she beat him to it.  "I was wrong to be hoping that you were going to hire me. A famous person like you would not want to hire just anybody as a driver. You preferred to let tons of graduates roam the streets without jobs," she said and forced a wicked smile which was followed by a sniff. She took her left hand to her face and wiped the tears on it, then looked at him in the eye again.

'I am not that kind of person. You are getting this the wrong way,' Desmond wanted to say, but he could not bring himself to say the words. He opened his mouth to talk only to close it back when she cut him in before he even started.

"Thank you, Mr Anderson." 

' If only you can make those people erase their bad thoughts of you,' she thought.  "Goodbye," she said, then gently removed his hand away from the knob, opened the door and walked out of his office. 

Desmond stood speechless. The woman had gotten him wrong, and that made him seem cruel. 

Really cruel. 

But why should he mind? It was not his first time rejecting an applicant, but why was he feeling so touched by her sadness and disappointment. The feeling to run after her started surging within him. He wanted to say  something that would put a smile on her face. He wanted to see her smile again. 

He had never felt the urge to make himself happy. He only sought after the happiness of the broken hearted. There had been many positive comments online about how he had, to the grace of God, settled the cases of so many lovers and couples that could have led to their separation. 

Yes, so many people were happily married, thanks to him. Only if his parents had been, too. Maybe he would have had time for himself and his happiness. But, that was impossible. He did not know the definition of happiness. His parents hadn't shown him, not even to themselves. He had never heard them tell themselves they love each other, so he did not know the definition of love also. 

And that one person he thought would teach him all that he did not know failed him. 

How he had ended up developing interest in what he did not know –love– was because he did not want other people to end up like him or his parents. 

From what he knew, his parents had only been lovey-dovey during their courtship. The opposite had been the case after they got married. They turned into day and night even after they had him. 

He grew up hating himself and his parents. He never knew happiness from morning till night and that was the reason he was so determined and willing to do anything in his power to make couples happy while advising the singles like himself on what marriage entails.  

Those advice never worked on him, though. 

Desmond jerked himself back alive to the present, carried his briefcase, which he had no idea of how it fell to the ground, and went outside. He got to the lobby and left her office keys with her.  "Bella, did you see a young fair woman with a rainbow coat and —" he was saying. 

"She sat over there, crying," the receptionist said and pointed to where she saw her. 

He looked at the direction he had been shown, but saw no one. "Where did she go?" he asked, but not with patience. 

"I have no idea, sir. She left about five minutes ago," Bella answered. 

"Okay, thanks." He dashed out of the reception and drove his Venza out of the firm. He was driving slower than his usual pace, glancing at both sides of the road with the hope of seeing her, but he didn't. 

What made him become like that all of a sudden? What had gotten into him? Getting worried about a woman he barely knew. She was not even his client. Feeling bad for rejecting her as his driver, feeling touched by her tears. What was happening to him? 

Silently and in thought, he drove home which was a twenty - minute drive from where he was. He got home and went straight into his large and well-furnished bedroom. He dropped his briefcase on a desk beside his bed and took off his suit. He changed into his pyjamas and fell onto his king-sized bed with his face buried in the comfy foam. 

He lived such a lonely life. He lived alone, not even a dog was living with him. He only requested cleaning services at the end of each month. He was the gate man and cook of his own house. Not that he could cook, but he had no choice if he could not get food from his usual eatery, perhaps whenever they had closed before he could order. 

His brain brought back to him the memories of his parents which he had sincerely wished he would totally forget. He did not want to be reminded of such memories. He succeeded in forcing it out of his head, but it was replaced with the thought of Faith Smith which made him feel guilty all over again. 

Was he wrong to have rejected a female as his driver? No. Was he wrong to have rejected those dozens of men because most of them were inexperienced and illiterates? No. Then, why was he still bothered especially about the young woman? 

He not only opposed hiring a female driver just because of gender, but also because whoever his driver would be, he would be living in the house with him. 

The truth is that he had started to find his house boring. He admitted that he really needed some company. That was why he had thought of a live-in driver so that they would be communicating as friends sometimes. 

So, how could he hire a female diver and be living alone with her? Not that he was the problem. He wasn't the type of guy that would go crazy over girls in that stage of his life. 

But, what about the woman? Most ladies were being driven and controlled by their passion, lust and their fantasy for men and wealth. They childishly follow their hearts instead of their brains. But Faith seemed different at first sight. Even her way of thinking was not as lazy as that of other females. 

He pondered a little longer and concluded on interviewing her. But, how would he get in touch with her when he had none of her means of communication?