LARA:
"And that's my cue to leave!" I flashed Paul a smile—he's the only friend I've got at work.
"Yeah... be safe and text me when you get home, okay?" he replied, concern lacing his voice.
I nodded, offering a small smile as I watched him head back into the store.
With a sip of my large café latte, I started the walk back to my apartment. It was almost eight in the evening, and I was cold, hungry, and alone.
Honestly, it was exhausting. Working at a grocery store is draining enough, but add the constant barrage of unwanted attention from the guys who think they can hit on me every fucking single second—it's suffocating. Being the only female employee means I'm the easy target, the one they all think they can corner by the end of the day.
But then there's Paul. He always tried to make my day a little better, even when our boss—a real narcissistic bitch—made things difficult. Paul and I started on the same day, and thankfully, he's nothing like the others. He respects me, makes me laugh, and never crosses any lines. He's a sweetheart.
Mom called. Twice. But I ignored it. A lot had changed in the past six months. I was finally free from the monster who tried to sell her own daughter for money. I'd overcome the fear of facing those who once shamed me. I'd overcome the terror of the Falcon. And now, here I was, walking down a dark street, waiting for a bit of luck.
The plan was simple: once the semester started, I'd land an internship at a good company, get a job, and maybe, just maybe, escape this life.
That was the plan.
My apartment was eight blocks from my workplace. As I walked down the dimly lit street, I felt a pair of eyes on me. Strange. This kind of unease was more like something Ana's thing. Why was I sensing it?
I glanced over my shoulder but saw no one. The alley was nearly empty, just a few people here and there. Nonetheless, I quickened my pace. But the feeling intensified. My heart raced, and I started to walk faster, almost running, when suddenly, someone grabbed my arm and yanked me close, my body slamming into a strong chest.
I screamed, too terrified to open my eyes, until the person whispered in my ear, "I'd rather you scream in my bed than in this lonely alley. Otherwise, people might think I'm actually kidnapping you."
My eyes snapped open, meeting familiar dark brown eyes. "You?"
"Were you expecting someone else?" His brows furrowed. "Like Paul?"
I scoffed, pushing him away as I regained my composure. "Paul? You mean the guy from my work?"
Mark gave a single nod, his face still wearing that same stoic expression, but I'd learned to read him in ways others couldn't. His emotions played out in his eyes, not on his face. When he's happy, his eyes don't smile—they twinkle, a warm orange like the hues of a sunset. When he's angry, they turn into a dark, stormy abyss, almost black and terrifying. When he's bored, they're void of colour, a dull, lifeless grey. But tonight, I couldn't quite place the emotion. He seemed pissed, but not angry—there was a hint of that sunset warmth, like he was glad to see me, but something else was clouding it.
"Yeah, exactly, Paul. The guy from your work," Mark replied, his face still stoic. "I saw how you were smiling at him."
I was taken aback. "What... you?" I sighed and started walking again. That's Mark for you. First, he gives me mind-blowing orgasms, then he ghosts me for days, only to show up out of nowhere, acting like he owns me. "That's none of your concern, Mark," I snapped, my tone sharper than I intended.
He followed me, hands in his pockets, still as handsome as ever, though he looked like he hadn't shaved in days.
"Why not?" He asked, a frown creasing his brow.
I stopped in my tracks, turning to face him, anger flaring in my eyes. "Why not? You're seriously asking me that? Unbelievable!" I scoffed, my frustration boiling over. "Where were you all these months, huh? I'm so tired of these on-and-off games, Mark. You show up, we have sex, and then you disappear for days, only to reappear as if I'm your property!"
My voice cracked as I continued, "I know I agreed to this, but I'm a human being, not a sex toy you can play with whenever you feel like it!" He just stood there, watching me, as I ranted like a pissed-off girlfriend.
Wait... girlfriend? That's weird. I'm definitely not his girlfriend... far from it, actually.
"So, what do you want?" he asked, cutting through my spiralling thoughts. I blinked at him, not expecting that question. I had been bracing myself for him to leave me standing in the middle of the road, saying something like, "I told you, I don't make love; I fuck!" But instead, here he was, standing right in front of me, asking what I wanted.
"More," I whispered, my voice barely audible, laced with pain. A lump formed in my throat as I tried to swallow it down. "But what does it matter?" I said, crossing my arms and looking anywhere but at him. "It's not like it would change anything," I added, my voice trailing off into a broken whisper.
I felt his heated gaze sweep over my body before he snatched the coffee from my hand, eyeing it with scrutiny. "Is this from Paul too? The guy from your work?"
I frowned at his tone, nodding with confusion. Was he... jealous? No, that couldn't be it. Mark doesn't do emotions, let alone jealousy.
Then, without warning, he tossed the coffee into a nearby trash can. "Mark!" I protested, but he just looked at me with that same unbothered expression.
"I think the guy from your work should learn to feed you actual food, not just coffee," he said flatly, slipping his hand into mine. His fingers fit perfectly with mine, sending a jolt through me. "Let's go."
He started to drag me away, his long strides making it hard for me to keep up. "Wait, where are we going?" I asked, thoroughly confused.
"To more," he whispered, not even glancing at me. My heart skipped a beat. Did he just say...?
"What?" I managed to ask, trying to process.
"To dinner," he finally clarified, shattering my delusion. "As I said, you need real food, and since the guy from your work can't provide that, it's my job to make sure you're fed properly."
I scoffed, irritated. "Stop saying Paul's name like that! He's just a friend trying to take care of me. At least he's nice."
"Hmm... this so-called friend might need a reality check. I'll look into that later."
"What?" I asked, bewildered.
He pulled me closer as we walked down the road. "After dinner, we're going to my place," he said, his voice low and commanding. "What I'm about to do to you is going to take a lot of energy, so consider this meal a warm-up. Seems like you've forgotten what it's like to be mine."
My eyes widened, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. "Mark!" I scowled, trying to sound firm. "I just told you..."
He ignored me completely. "Wait, I have class tomorrow," I tried to come up with an excuse.
"So do I," he replied without missing a beat.
"Well... I... I need to rest. I'm tired," I stammered, grasping at straws.
"You should have thought about that before provoking me, mi cariño," he retorted.
"I did not provoke you!" I protested, but it was useless. He was much stronger than me. "I... I..."
He glanced back at me once, his eyes dark and serious, before gritting out, "You're coming with me, Lara."