Page 2 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

Only one of my feet touched the ground, and my arm began to hurt.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” A lady in a security uniform asked. I realized how bad this looked.

I nodded.

“Do you need help?” The fat nosy woman raised her volume.

“I’m okay.” I said, trying to sound as calm as I could.

“Put me down.” I hissed at Dave, giving him a side glance letting him know that we were attracting unwanted attention.

“You don’t look okay, girl. Do you know this man?” The woman wouldn’t let it go. I hated how she felt like she had the right to police the airport. But then, I guess she did. The way Dave was manhandling me didn’t help the situation.

“Yes, I, uh, I, um, injured my ankle earlier. He’s just helping me.” I heard it as soon as I said it. It sounded like a lie.

I pretended to walk as funny as I could, limping here and there. But her droopy brown eyes narrowed and she saw right through me. “Your ankle looks okay to me.”

Must she be so blunt?

“Go away.” Dave growled, like a mad dog protecting his territory.

“Excuse me?”

Oh no. I could sense the coming confrontation before it even started—like it was my superpower. Maybe it was because I hated conflict so much.

The concerned expression on her face disappeared, replaced by the mean, nasty one that all school principals seemed to possess. She planted her fists on her waist sending a nervous shiver down my back.

This thing with this nosy woman had gone on for far too long.

Whatever matter that was on Dave’s mind must have been important and urgent. And I had underestimated how much Kai’s disappearance would affect Dave.

“Excuse my friend… he didn’t mean it.” I said slowly, with my calm doctor voice.

“I’m going to call the police.” She declared at the top of her lungs, causing passers-by to stop and stare.

“No, no need to call the police.” I yanked Dave’s hand off of me.

“Ma’am, you’re in danger. I can tell.”

“No, no, no. I’m not in danger.” I shook my head and chuckled lightly as I tried to explain. Dave’s assistant was poking furiously on his phone — he better be calling back up right about now.

“You are if you don’t let us go now.”

A statement.

A dare.

This was bad news.

“Shut. Up.” I grumbled under my breath.

I would come up with creative and unpleasant names to call him, if I wasn’t so scared of confrontation, conflict, and making a scene.

“Are you threatening me?” The woman asked then pointed at Dave’s assistant then back at him. “You. Are you with him? What are you doing on your phone?”

“Of course not.” I said, interrupting what looked like it was going to be the next viral video in the making. “He’s not. They are not. I don’t know them.”

Words tumbled out of my mouth, no longer making sense.