Orla was slammed with restiveness as she sat with a group of Architects in the reception of Bernadoz Construction Company.
The interview phase was over, and they were anxiously waiting for results, but Orla wasn't having it well. Her anthropophobia had activated in ample form as people surrounded her, she was far from being comfortable.
Callan had dropped her three hours ago. She was now done with the interview, waiting for the result and Callan to come pick her up as promised.
"Is this seat taken?" A hunky black guy towered above her, his dark brown eyes gleaming with lechery as he made Orla's cleavage the cynosure of his eyes.
She almost blamed herself for wearing that dress, but it wasn't all bad. It was a decent dress, just that this guy over here just derived pleasure in being a pervert.
"Not taken," she mumbled, focusing her attention back to the bald receptionist who had started calling in the applicants for their results.
They were more than thirty, it was certain she would not get to her turn anytime soon.
"Can I meet you?" Mr. Black guy asked, extending his hand forward for a handshake.
She stared confusingly at him but took his hand eventually. "Good," she bumped his hand once and quickly let go.
"You're an Architect too. What's your name? Women in this field are intelligent. I want to know more about you." He bit his lips, staring at her.
Sickened by his guts and flirty gestures, Orla scoffed. "I am married. I am Mrs. Orla Barlowe, you must have heard about my husband."
This was the first time she was introducing herself as Mrs Barlowe to someone and for some unknown reasons, she felt so proud of who her husband was.
"Callan Barlowe?" Mr. Black guy muttered dryly. The confidence he exuded had been drained out of him when Orla mentioned the name 'Barlowe' He sure knew who Callan was.
"Yes. I am his wife." She responded proudly.
"I see." He quickly withdrew from her. Obliterated his nasty stares at her body. He wasn't close with Callan, but he knew the big name and he dared not disrespect him or his wife especially when he'd be needing help from them in future. "It was nice meeting you though. I guess I should leave now."
Orla looked at him pitifully. With mockery laced in her tone, she said. "You should wait for your result."
"I will. I will sit somewhere else." He straightened up before Orla could utter her next words.
In the blink of an eye, he was back in the backseat he had occupied before coming to pull up his stunts on Orla.
Smiling, she shook her head. He definitely knew who Callan was.
A few minutes later, she was called forward. Her heart palpitated as she approached the Receptionist's desk. She didn't want to fail Callan, he had put in so much effort in trying to help her get back to her feet.
They had been sleepless nights and busy days just because he wanted her to fully focus. He cooked for her, and even fed her at some points. Provided all that she needed, he was rooting for her big time.
She did her best to answer the questions that were thrown at her correctly, her drawings were acceptable, but she could only hope that she would be given the project.
"Mrs Orla Barlowe?" The bald receptionist smiled heartily when she sighted Orla for the second time today. "Your results have been sent to your email address. Do well to check it out."
"Oh, thank you so much for that."
"You're welcome." She called in the next person. Smiling and reporting the same news to him.
As Orla strolled out of the reception, she heaved a dry sigh, wondering why the receptionist had chosen to call them one after the other when she could just make a general announcement for them to check their emails for the results.
Dipping her hand into her bag, she picked up her phone and was scrolling through her email when she perceived a familiar whiff.
Although it'd been almost a year since she last perceived that woody floral scent, she knew who it was.
It was her signature scent, specially designed for her, no one else used the same perfume as hers.
Curly dark hair bounced around her shoulders as she elegantly approached Orla where she stood with her phone glued to her palm. Through the thick dark glasses that hid her face, Orla could visibly feel her icy eyes piercing into her skin.
Orla took a turn to avoid her, but it was too late. Mia yanked the glasses off her face and halted her steps right in front of her sister.
"Look who we have here," Mia shrieked, intimidating Orla.
Orla opened her mouth to talk, but the words froze underneath her throat. Mia's presence terrified her so much.
Everything about Mia was inimical and as much as Orla tried to hide under the facade of bravery, her body language betrayed her.
Her hands became clammy with sweat, her body fidgeted so badly. She cussed at herself for ever coming here.
Seeing Mia was the last thing she'd write in her daily routine.
"Why are you here though?" Mia walked around her sister, her heels violently clanging against the tiles. The ominous sound they produced intensified Orla's fear.
They were alone outside the reception, she needed help to run away from her. A chilly breeze from nowhere hit her skin, she looked at her sister and swallowed hard.
"I should ask you that. Why are you here?"
It took the last ounce of courage in her to voice those words.
"You are still the dumb girl that I used to know." She stopped moving around her. Eyes fixated on the file in Orla's hand, she snatched it off her and glanced through it before Orla could attempt to take it back. "You are here for the contract?" Her scornful stares made Orla lose the confidence she once had. " Oh my, I forgot you attended college."
"Give it back." Orla protested, extending her hand to take back her file from her, but Mia swatted her hand away.
"I guess marriage didn't change you after all. You are still so dumb." She tossed the papers away, letting them fall to the ground and flying about the foyer
"What was that for?"
"It's clear that Callan put you to this, but he also forgot to tell you that I am affiliated with this company and they will work with whoever I pick." She inched closer to Orla, tipping her chin to face her. "The building they are working on is mine and I won't have you involved in it. Go try your unlucky luck elsewhere." She let go of her chin and pushed her away.
Orla quickly regained her balance by placing her hand on the stanchion. She held onto it for long, trying so hard not to look at her sister. But the fury that burned inside of her was deadlier than venom. She glared at Mia, words failing her.
She struggled for the words and eventually found one, but Mia beat her to it.
"It is obvious that your husband doesn't love you. He doesn't give a fuck about you because he knew better than to bring you here," her evil smirk was back.
Orla admired her sister for a second. She would have been way prettier than this if only she hadn't let evil eat deep inside of her.
"You are just bitter, Mia. Why won't you leave me alone? I have left the house for you and your sisters. What else do you want from me?" She yelled, but not loud enough for insiders to grasp their conversation.
Mia scoffed. "You called me bitter? A murderer calling me bitter, huh?"
That sentence was Orla's Achilles heels. It struck her so hard that her knuckles whitened and her knees became so weak. She wasn't a murderer, she wouldn't accept to be called that name.
"I am not a murderer, Mia." Heavy beads of tears gathered in her eyes. Just one more word from Mia and the tears will pour. "I know nothing about what happened."
"You don't and that's why no one cares you about. Even your husband doesn't care because he probably didn't have you on his mind." She tightly held her chanel bag and gazed at Orla from her hair to the soles of her feet. Disgusted, she continued. "He forgot to tell you that it is my building the same way he forgot to let you know that he is my sneaky link!"
The last sentence resounded louder than the others.
"Are you surprised?" Mia giggled. "Did you think that he would choose you over me if he didn't have an ulterior motive?"
Words dried up in Orla's mouth, unshed tears welled up in the corner of her eyes.
"I bet I fuck him better than you do and that's why he doesn't give a shit about you. You can go ahead and ask him about us if you doubt me." She smirked, heading towards the entrance of the reception. She halted, her hand on the glass door. Looking at Orla, she said, "I am sure he has a lot of things to say about us, Sweetheart."
She closed the door behind her without gazing back to see if Orla was fine or not.
Orla froze on the spot. Callan wouldn't do that to her, he was always with her and would never cheat on her. Callan would not sleep with Mia, Callan was faithful to her. But why didn't he tell her Mia was also partnering with the company since he knew so much about them?
"No," she shook her head.
As much as she wanted to trust that Callan wouldn't hurt her, a voice inside of her compelled her to believe Mia's words.
What if they were true? What if Callan wasn't who he claimed to be?
Lost in her thoughts as she walked towards the parking lot to wait for Callan, she missed a step and was close to falling when someone caught her.
She looked up, and stared into his familiar eyes that she had grown to love so much. She didn't glimpse hurt, all she saw was genuine care. Callan didn't look like he would cheat on her, he couldn't do it.
"Hey, you almost fell. What's on your mind?" Called asked, planting a kiss on her forehead.
She jerked herself away from him, avoiding his mild sweet gaze. "Nothing," she said wryly, walking towards the spot he parked the car.
Callan followed closely behind. This wasn't the Orla he dropped three hours ago. Orla would not walk out on him, she wouldn't give him a wry response too.
Something was wrong, he could strongly sense that. But he hoped that it was not from Bernadoz Construction Company because he was ready to end them if they hurt his wife.
How are you guys doing today?