Forrest novel Chapter 34

FORREST

IT WAS gut-wrenching, terrifying shit to face him today—the person I feared for years, François Xavier. In a few minutes, I would be standing in front of him—face to face—eye to eye.

The thing that feared me the most was if I could walk out of here alive after this most anticipated meeting. I knew for a fact that people feared him, followed him like a goddamn god, and I was nothing, no one to him, to anyone. I was just an insignificant businessman, nothing more.

The five-star hotel lobby was busy as always. These people were not aware that a dangerous person on the planet was just staying above their heads.

I scanned around as I entered with nerves buzzing through me. This whole situation wracked every bone in my body and made me think if it worth my efforts. I hoped it is.

I kept reminding myself of why I was doing this, even though it didn’t help a tiny bit. I remembered someone said that a day would come that you have to face those moments you feared, to forget what fear felt like. I prepared this moment for years, and it happened today or never.

I noticed three strong tanned-skin men in suits. The long-haired was staring at me in silence, but I knew he was a part of his entourage.

I heard my feet pounding on the floor as I marched toward the nearest elevator. The hair at the back of my neck was rising, telling me that the three goons were watching me my every move. I entered quietly, then as expected, they followed me in.

After releasing somewhat a sigh of relief which was complete bullshit, I shoved my hands inside my pants pockets, balling them into fists to stop myself from fidgeting. I started sweating, but I couldn’t let them find out I was nearly peeing in my pants.

One of them punched a floor number. I clenched my jaw hard as my patience evaporated of waiting to reach the exact floor, but the elevator would still stop in the middle. I studied the floor plan carefully. And I was right, the elevator halted. The three goons walked out first, and I followed them with a confident paced.

Then they turned left toward the small hallway and stopped in front of another elevator. The long-haired guy swiped the card and punched some numbers, then the elevator door slid open.

“Right after you,” the tallest guy said in a thick French accent.

Without uttering a word, I walked in, then they followed like puppies.

A few moments later, dread had filled me when the elevator stopped. I could even hear the strong beating of my heart, the pumping of my blood in my ears. My lips went dry when the man inspected me, tapping my suit from head to toe.

“Wait right here.” The black guy knocked on the door, then it swung open as if they were aware of the exact moment of our arrival.

My heart sped up a million a mile. My tongue thickened in my mouth. I straightened my posture and sucked in a deep breath to find more strength to grasp as I walked inside the French-inspired luxury suite.

Finally, I was in the lion’s den.

I stopped in the middle, scanning the beautiful art hanging on the wall. At the corner of my eye, I saw another guy with the same height as mine, probably a decade older than me, standing like a statue, almost not blinking. I licked my lips and slipped my hand to my left jacket pocket, causing the statue guy to go rigid.

I turned to face him, lifting a brow when I pulled my Cuban cigar. I hated this shit, but I wanted to get pissed and fill my blood with rage before I faced him.

Then he marched in.

The one and only Francois Xavier or should I say, Oliver Huxley.

An eerie feeling surrounded us. My world spun, then everything blurred around us. My heartbeat went unsteady. I could feel the sweat beaded on my forehead as I stood there like I was slowly turning into a stone.

I took a deep breath and faced him. I’d been waiting for this moment to happen. Now we were face to face, as expected, my rage started to boil in my veins as the old memories came flashing back in my head.

What I first noticed, he was older than I thought he was—than in the picture Alan gave me weeks ago. How did it even possible? He even lost some weight.

Funny that he wasn’t I thought the god he was after all. His hair was graying. A frown was deep on his face as if he was stressing too much, and even his eyes were filled with so much emptiness, that surprisingly, I even felt pity for him.

He was the fucking demon in my nightmares. Right now, he was standing in front of me that I should be scared of, only, I felt nothing but boiling rage.

Then our gaze locked, and I gave him a curt nod before I lit up my cigar.

“You are too young to smoke,” he stated casually, gesturing me to sit as he took a seat on the red-golden intricated chair. Am I now? Was there an age-limit I didn’t know of? But one thing I remembered about him was he heated cigarettes. Maybe what I was doing was to piss him off. Who cared?

His voice hadn’t changed a bit than the last time I remembered other than it aged with him.

“I actually hate cigarettes in any form.” I unbuttoned my suit and took a seat as we faced each other.