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Damen stood up. “If you came here to play games—-”
Farah snapped, “I came to prevent you from being conned by a gold digger.”
“You have overstayed your welcome,” he bit out. “Leave before I have security escort you out.” Turning his back on her, Damen stalked back to his desk, intent on buzzing Barry to get the woman out of his sight before his temper exploded.
“I’ve brought proof,” the woman half-screeched at him.
Suddenly she was in front of him, pulling out a medium-sized envelope from her purse. Flinging it at him, she said, “She stole the man I loved from me!”
There was a demented look in her eyes that almost had him cursing. Not bothering to answer her, he pressed the buzzer for Barry. When his assistant hurried in, Damen cut off whatever excuse Barry had planned and said curtly, “Get rid of her.”
The woman seemed to lose it at his words and began cursing him. “You’re a fucking idiot like Stavros! You don’t see her for what she is! You don’t know how to appreciate a real woman!”
As a tortured-looking Barry grabbed hold of her arms from behind, she went wild, struggling to get away. “She doesn’t deserve to have a billionaire when she took mine away from me!”
It became clear then. “So you are the woman who had caused her to be expelled.”
She laughed maniacally. “Oh, that’s goddamn rich. And it’s just so like the ever-perfect Mairi Tanner to put the blame on me. I was suspended. She was expelled. And you know why? Because I may be a flirt, but I wasn’t a gold-digging whore—-”
“Apologies for this, sir,” Barry mumbled just before he finally dragged the woman out of Damen’s office and closed the door.
Damen expelled his breath as a heavy tense silence settled around him. He had not realized he hadn’t been breathing the entire time the woman had been talking.
His gaze was inevitably drawn to the envelope lying discarded on the floor.
Chapter 13
Two hundred fifty-six dollars!
Oh my God, had she really been able to write 256 articles in such a short span of time? Mairi couldn’t help making a face at the thought. Considering she had also lost about five pounds in the same period of time, maybe it wasn’t too surprising. She had worked backbreaking hours for those articles, but it was all worth it.
Tomorrow was their first month anniversary. Did he realize that? Probably not, she thought glumly. There was noise all around her as she walked further into the city’s central market, which had a thriving and bustling atmosphere. And since it was morning, the busiest time of the day, the area was also crowded, requiring Mairi to squeeze her way into the alleys that led to the fish section.
Fish vendors were typically the noisiest, and Mairi had to smile at the way the vendors good-naturedly attempted to out-market each other with their claims. Her boots squished with each step she took. Wearing boots to the fish market was a lesson she had learned from her first visit. Then, she had worn flip-flops – a decision that ended with Mairi submerging her feet in water mixed with rose oil for a few hours. It had been that dirty and smelled even worse.
“Mairi, over here!”
She smiled in greeting as she hurried towards Phil – short for Philemon. He was waving at her exuberantly, his fisherman’s hat in his hand. He was white-haired and burly, with a smiling weathered face. He could be anywhere between fifty and a hundred, but he moved about like he was in his thirties. Eating several kilos of olives sure had its perks, Mairi thought with a secret smile.
“Kalimera,” she greeted him good morning cheerfully, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she did. It was an exceptionally hot morning, and with the nonstop flow of people, she was ruefully aware of how much she was sweating under her knee-length cotton rompers.
He immediately grabbed her hand and gave it a brisk and enthusiastic shake. She shook his back, not losing her smile even though she knew it meant having her hand smell like a dozen different types of fish after.
“The package arrived as scheduled. Are you ready to see it?” he asked with a grin as he released her hand.
Mairi forgot all about her now-greasy and smelly hand. “Totally!”
He waved for her to walk inside his booth as he walked towards the end and opened one of the crates. “Here they are!”
A few hundred of doctor fish were swimming lazily inside the crate, their tiny black bodies making Mairi almost swoon in delight. Oh my God, Phil had really done it! “They’re really from Turkey?” she breathed.
“They are indeed.” Phil crossed his fingers behind his back. The nice little girl meant Turkey – the country – while he meant Turkey, the name of the pet shop in a neighboring town, but it was really all the same. And sure, these were truly not doctor fish or garra rufa, but that should not be a problem either. These black ones were practically the same.
