Mr Ceo's Pregnant Ex-wife

Chapter 55 - MEETING

One of the first duties of a father

is to protect his daughter from crying or else

make the man who makes her cry

pay for his crimes.

***

"Ace Carter Greyson…" Alexander Crawford whispered under his breath, his tone sharp and menacing.

His lips slowly twitched into a smile, but it looked more like a snarl coming from a frightening predator who finally found its elusive prey.

A dangerous glint slowly lit his eyes ablaze. The laughter that took its reign on his striking face a while ago disappeared quickly, what took over was a sense of foreboding at the impending meeting.

"Please bring him to the library."

Sensing the sudden steel edge from his tone, the servant stiffened. The Master of the house possesses an incredible amount of self-restraint. He rarely shows emotion even if he is angry. But today was an exception, not only that his tone sounded menacing, but he also had the murderous glint displayed on his inky eyes.

"Also, make sure Beatrix won't leave her room until my visitor departs." He added his tone as hard as iron.

The servant nodded, secretly trembling with fear and trepidation.

Alexander walked across the spacious foyer, it was deserted, and eerily quiet. The sound of his steps against the ceramic floor temporarily shatters the stillness that draped the foyer. He sunk deeper inside his glum reverie, carefully constructing a ploy to ensnare the villain into his trap.

He has the painting—the villain's most valued masterpiece. That would be enough to entice him to come closer to a fire that would burn him. He was a moth, attracted to a flame, despite the dangers, he would pursue to come closer, his curiosity would be his death, the fire would eventually singe his wings, spread to his body until it burned him to ashes.

He reached the door to the library which served as his own personal office too and pushed it open. The scent of books wafted across the room—it's not an ugly scent of old books but a comforting combination of paper and ink.

The chandelier hanging on the ceiling gave the room a calming effect and made the room conducive for reading. The floor-to-ceiling shelves on the walls were filled with hardbound leathers, collector's items, and journals he valued much for they cost him a fortune.

He moved forward to where his modern office stable stood, unread paper works lay on top. He occupied the soft, leather chair, clasped his fingers under his chin, and let his thoughts drifted as he waited for Mr. Greyson.

Soon he heard footsteps, he pulled himself out of his glum reverie and watched with keen interest as the door opened then a man with towering height and broad muscular shoulders entered, he was wearing a plain grey t-Shirt and skinny jeans.

So this was the man who broke his daughter's heart. He thought grimly, laser-sharp gaze slicing through his visitor. If looks could kill the man would no doubt become a cold corpse within milliseconds.

When their eyes met, the tension grew thicker until it filled the air with palpable threats. No one spoke for a while as they assessed each other.

Finally, it was Greyson who decided to break the unnerving silence with a courteous greeting."A pleasant afternoon Sir, shall I say?"

"Indeed pleasant." Alexander Crawford replied, 'pleasant indeed for having my prey come to me willingly' he thought with unbridled satisfaction coiling inside him. "Please have a seat." He offered the leather chair across his modern office table. His visitor followed obligingly.

"Quite a surprise seeing you here Mr. Greyson. May I offer you refreshments?" He offered gallantly while tempting thoughts of letting his eight sons beat this man sinfully run wild inside his thoughts, his expression remained as cold and unreadable as a foreign word etched into an old stone.

"Thank you but I won't stay long." He replied rather calmly, clenching his jaw and ignoring the murderous glare coming from Alexander.

"Well then, let's drop the formalities and jump to the main business. Why the hell are you here Mr. Greyson?" The master of the house inquired, his tone rose menacingly, it was no longer the tone of a welcoming host. He dare not conceal the angry scowl that now scrunched his temples when the younger man refused to be intimated.

"I'm here to retrieve my painting." Greyson snapped without breaks, stared straight into his eyes in a way that made it impossible for him to weave a lie.

"And what painting would that be Mr. Greyson? I have hundreds of paintings inside my home, which one of them?" He feigned innocence.

Greyson took a deep calming breath just in time to ease the temper threatening to erupt inside him. Alexander failed once more to let the younger man fall prey to his tauntings. He didn't coax him with a threat just like what he expected of him.

"A woman was the subject of the painting, a stunning one," Greyson began to explain, his tone softened as he continued to describe his great masterpiece. "Ebony black hair gloriously cascade down her shoulders like a waterfall. Her eyes, it's what stand out the most in the painting. One would easily spot the breathtaking uniqueness of her differing eye color. She's a perfect depiction of a woman with an eye condition called Heterochromia Iridium With her left eye a shade of warm honey and the other a heartwarming green."

Alexander noted how Greyson described the painting in clear, vivid detail, and in a tone laced with wonderful enthusiasm that he can't help but admire and hate him at the same time. True, Greyson was a bastard, one could call as heartless and inhumane but Alexander couldn't deny the fact that he was dealing with a genius artist.

"If you don't mind Mr. Greyson, may I ask what age did you create the said painting?" He asked casually, trying to appear uninterested which quite worked well.

"I am twenty at that time."

"If you don't mind, could you expand your description of the painting?"

"The woman in the painting wore a stunning gown made of hellfire, a tiara made of the finest gemstones glittered at her head, thousands of stars lay on her feet bowing to the woman who looked like a queen. Her honey-sweet lips stretched into a seductive smile."

"And what makes it unique?"

"I made the painting without an actual model Sir, I randomly picked a woman whom I met in a bar, she made my heart skip for the first time, and ever since then I can't get her off my mind so I painted her instead."

"Is she your first love?" Before Alexander could stop his words, he already said it out loud. He inwardly groaned, he sounded like a lawyer interrogating a witness.