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Recipe For Disaster

Urban
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  • 159 Chs
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  • 4.7
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Synopsis

A damaged playboy, a beautiful lady on a deadly mission and a desperate waitress. Find out what happens when the three are entangled in a never-ending drama. ******************************** Years after successfully surviving a childhood he was forced to endure, Charles couldn't be more damaged than he already was. All he wanted was his walls to remain as unbreakable and impenetrable as he made them. But then he met Annabelle. She was smart, beautiful, rich and a professional with a deadly secret and a unique background. Worst of all, she was perfectly tailored to play games. Or so she thought. What happens when a desperate waitress is added to the mix? Can they survive the dangers of the game they play? What will happen when hidden secrets surface? Can love prevail? Will they get scorched? Or, is this just a recipe for disaster?

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Chapter 1Chapter 1

Charles POV

July 15th 2019

I drove throughout the night, only stopping twice to take a piss and to buy fuel. The goal was to get to Abuja before seven a.m in the morning at whatever cost necessary. And as I pressed down on the gas of my Toyota Camry, I knew the car would soon begin cursing me or flat out breakdown. Just as I expected the car jolted and I grumbled in frustration and something akin to annoyance. Stressing the car or myself had not been the initial plan. But when I had discovered my only options were between my car or a free ride from my dad's private jet, I had picked the car without a backward glance.

I zoomed past the welcome to Abuja sign boldly written by the side of the road, the beautiful sight of the city caught my attention as I did. I couldn't help but take a moment to admire the beauty and grace of the state. Abuja was way more peaceful than my hometown Lagos and deep down, I hoped it would bring better luck.

After another five minutes of reckless driving, I arrived at the hotel, parked my car beside a Prado jeep, picked up my briefcase and phone, and then stepped out of the car and into the cold morning air.

"Good morning sir," a man with round bright eyes greeted me from behind and I turned. My eyes landed on the badge resting on his left breast pocket before lifting it to his face. He was a porter. I tossed my car key to him and began making my way into the hotel.

"Should I park everything in the trunk, sir?" The Porter asked and I nodded, still taking long strides towards the hotel reception. But then I paused, impulsively turned and began making my way towards him. When I got to him, I slipped some Naria notes into his unsuspecting hands and made for the reception doors again. The guy's eyes widened in surprise.

"Thank you very much, sir-" he began but I was already halfway into the lobby of the hotel. The truth was, I didn't give a damn about his gratitude. I hadn't done it for him. I had done it for a way deeper reason.

I stepped into the lobby and made for the reception desk. Bolton White was one of the good hotels in Abuja. Although it wasn't rated five stars, It was rated three and that was comfortable enough for me. Also, I didn't want to be recognized by any of my father's partners while in Abuja.

Getting to the reception stand, I placed my phone on the counter. "Hello, what can I do for you?" A beautiful woman with light brown hair asked.

"I have a reservation for the week," I replied, taking in her appearance and physical features. She looked familiar.

"Okay. What's your name?"

"Charles. Charles Harrell," I replied and watched as she punched some keys on her laptop.

I sighed. I was running late. Lord knew I didn't have time to waste. Which was why I had booked ahead in the first place. Tapping my fingers on the polished counter I glanced around, making a quick sweep of my environment. When I was sure there was no one suspicious watching me, I glanced at my watch.

6:34 am.

Damn!

"Your room is ready for you sir," the pretty receptionist finally said and I sighed in relief.

"Thanks," I muttered and made to grab the card from her protruding hands only to freeze at the sight of a triangular tattoo etched into the corner of her wrist.

What the fuck was my... that insignia doing on this woman's wrist?

"Is there a problem, Mr Charles?" the receptionist asked and I zapped my eyes away from her wrist to focus on her face instead.

"Nah..." I whispered and grabbed the card, but then held on to her fingers. "I'd love to speak to you sometime in the evening, probably when you are off work. Would you be so kind to indulge me?"

She stared at me stoically for what seemed like years before finally replying, "We don't do that here sir."

"Do what?" I whispered, feigning ignorance.

"Flirt," She replied curtly.

"Could you repeat that love?" I whispered, not expecting her to play hard to get.

"We do not make personal contact," she gritted, more firmly this time and in a higher tone, continued, "or flirt with our guests, sir. It's against our ethics and it'll cost us our jobs." With that said, she zapped her fingers from my gasps and turned to her laptop, shutting me out.

I smiled. If my father wanted to play, so be it. I was going to come back for her after I was done with my impending business. And she was going to tell me exactly where she got that tattoo from.

I was the best in the game after all.

That's because you ---- my subconscious began but I immediately shut it down. I wouldn't, couldn't think of the past. For my sanity, I needed to concentrate. And concentrate I would. No matter what.

Taking in a deep breath I pocketed the key, picked up my phone from the counter and turned toward the elevator only to be met with the softest solid I have ever felt, my progress toward the elevator, stunted.

"Fuck!" I groaned and immediately went to my knees. My aim? To pick up my briefcase and phone with had slipped from my hands during the collision. Instead, I was met with blazing hazel eyes that were staring at me as if they wanted to burn through my soul.

Damn! Those eyes were agitated alright, and beautiful as hell.

"What on earth are you looking at?" She fired and I flinched. How angry was she exactly? If I recalled correctly, she bumped into me.

"I'm sorry but-"

"If you weren't busy checking out bumps, you would have seen me coming-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa woman, slow down. I didn't see you coming because I hadn't even turned-" she didn't let me finish. Again.

"Save that for the women you woo. Not me."

I grabbed my briefcase, pocketed my phone then began to raise. I understood that she was angry but this wasn't my fault alone and truthfully, I didn't need this right now. I needed to be fully focused on my impending meeting. A meeting that if I didn't move my ass right now, I was going to miss.

"Look madam," I began when I had fully risen, my build towering over her. "I don't know you and the truth is, I don't want to. I'm just going to walk quietly away. Hopefully, you do the same-"

"Men and their foolish pride," she groaned and then began picking up her books. "All you had to do was apologize."

What the hell? Who was this woman and why was she hell-bent on getting under his skin?

"Look-"

"Please save it," she snapped and stood to her feet. "Hopefully someday, you grow some manners." I couldn't even respond for she had already brushed past me and was making her way to the exit door.

Wow!

I couldn't help but watch her strut out the door, my eyes completely glued to the slight sway of her hips as they moved from side to side.

But damn, attitude aside she was beautiful.

I briskly shook my head and began towards the elevator. But then, my legs stepped on something soft, my foot almost losing its balance. And if not for the fact that I worked out now and then, my ass would have been planted on the floor.

Thankfully that didn't happen.

I picked up the small brown leather purse that had almost caused me great embarrassment and looked it over. Flipping it open, I discovered a room key, some ATM cards and a passport that belonged to-

Well damn.

Seems I wouldn't be seeing the last of hazel eyes after all.

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