Layla's POV
"You cannot do this!" I scoffed. If I was scared, or hurt, or anything before. Now. I was angry. Fuming.
This son of a bitch.
"Who do you think you are?" I said, glaring at him as he remained lost in his own thoughts.
"I am talking to you!" I demanded, suddenly overcomed with rage courage.
He turned around, not sparing me a glance.
"Keep it down, will you? I like my car rides peaceful," he said.
Like hell. My whole life was in shambles because of him. He didn't deserve peace. What he deserved was a day full of nightmares! Just the way it was for me.
"Guess rules don't apply to you, when you are already throwing out orders at people. People you have no right controlling. Like me, perhaps," I crossed my arms.
To my amazement, he chuckled. Almost surprised.
"I am your husband," he said, as his lips parted.
Was he grinning?
"You are awful!" I said, with spite.
"So, I am told," he shrugged, turning to face the window.
"I do not want to work for you. Who's to say that this isn't your setup to make my life miserable. Isn't marrying you enough?" I asked bitterly.
My hands tugged on his arm, begging for his attention.
"That's enough, Layla. Do not touch me. Unless you plan to do it my way," he said, with an undertone of warning.
"Are you threatening me?" I couldn't believe myself. How was I even surprised?
Before I knew, I was already pulling at his collar, forcing him to look at me.
"What's your deal, Alphonso Darren! What have I even done to you?" I demanded.
"I. Said. That's. Enough."
He pushed me down to the leather of the car's seat, hovering over me uncomfortably. His fingers wrapped around the back of my neck, as he looked at me with darkened eyes.
My breath hitched.
No. I cannot back down now.
"I am not going to work for you," I said, trying to sound resolute.
His gaze dropped to my lips. I could feel the heat of them licking at the arcs, just when I parted.
"I own you. You are a liability," he said, before leaning in.
He was close. Too close. The ends of our noses touched. His pupils dilated. He looked intimidating. So intimidating. Any sane person would step back. Make some room. But how could I? When he was pressing me to himself.
Heat crackled in the air. Electrifying jolts ran down my spine, as I felt his fingers caress the safe space between my hips and my ass.
"What are you doing?" I asked, and he tilted my chin.
His fingers wrapped around my throat.
"Learn to obey, Little Dove," he said with such command, I felt my shoulders go lax. "Or, your pretty little head would be snapped into two. Just by the mere force of my hand," his nose caressed my temple.
He leaned in, and I felt something sharper biting into my neck.
"Ah—" I moaned. It stinged.
"Get off of me—" I pleaded in anger. And with something else. A warmth. Perhaps it was another form of experiencing anger. That's the only way it could be.
He lifted his head off, as the pain lingered. I noticed the hint of blood on his lips.
"You are a beast!" I yelled, and his grip around my throat tightened.
"That's right, Little Dove. And you should be scared of me," he said.
"I won't be scared of you—" I said.
I knew it was futile. I knew I was about to cry. Tears threatened to spill out any minute now.
His hands slipped to my behind, and he gave it a squeeze before tugging me into him. He lifted my knee, placing it on the side of his other thigh. Then, he held me close on his lap.
"Alphonso—"
"I asked you not to touch me, unless you want to do it my way. Take responsibility, Little Dove," he said, placing his hand on the small of my back.
"Your way? Beasts don't have mannerisms, Mr. Darren," I held tight onto his collar.
My chest heaved from how close he was. A thin layer of stubble had marked his jawline now. And his lips. They looked so soft. And inside, he was just a monster. A monster in the hide of a man.
"No, Little Dove. But beasts have rules. The wild thrived on them. The law of nature.
And nature knows, that when you touch fire, you burn.
So, burn," his voice dropped low as his words melted against my ear.
His breath was warm, tingling my skin. I could feel the goosebumps riding up my arm. The closeness of his breath on my nape.
"I am not going to fall for your petty ways. You cannot convince me that you- Have rules. Or morals.
You cannot break me, Mr. Darren," I said, and yet my voice trembled.
I hovered over him, putting some distance between him and me. I held tight onto his shoulders, trying my best to not cave in his embrace.
"Even for a few years, or so— You belong to me, Layla. You are mine to do as I please," he grunted, in a low voice.
As if, it was a cruel joke the car bumped. Instinctively, I was pressed onto him. Hot and heavy, with his face pressed to my front.
He let out a chuckle. I could feel his nose glide up.
"Oh God—"
I planted my hands on the back of the seat, supporting myself. Trying to move away.
"Stay where you are," he said.
"Let me go, Mr. Darren!" I cried out, holding back my tears.
His hands slid up my back. He tugged onto the zipper. I felt the cold brush of air against my back. A gasp escaped my lips.
"Red? Interesting choice of colour," his eyes sparkled with mischief.
"What the hell are you doing?" I frowned. I wanted to slap him across the face.
"It would be just a minute—" his fingers slipped underneath the strap.
The car's horn honked. And that's when it dawned upon me. God. He was trying to make a fool out of myself.
"Alphonso Darren!" Before I knew, my hand was cutting halfway through air.
Slap!
It landed harshly against his cheek. The smirk wiped off of his face. Something sinister took over.
"You are an asshole. You think you are a scary and important man because you have the big guns! Guess what? Fuck you!" I held him by his collar.
His face turned. He lifted one of his palms to caress the skin where the slap had landed.
I could feel my pulse rising. The heat between us. It was all overwhelming.
"You fucking halfwit manwhore! I am not rich but you... Are nothing more than a douche bag. Who. Cannot. Even. Fucking. Respect. Women." My chest heaved, arrhythmically.
It felt like I'd pass out any minute.
His eyes turned dangerously dark. Dialating. Staring. He didn't seem like the type to take the blow without a rebuttal.
His jaw tightened. And then. I waited. Waited for his rebuke. His lips parted, and then, he pulled me in.
"You are cute," he whispered. "This mouth of yours—" he took my lips by surprise, tugging at them.
"Ah— No—" I moaned, trying to stop him. And then, as if instinctively I found myself letting him take charge.
Instead, I let him do that.
"Alphonso," I moaned softly, before he let go of my lips.
"You are not so fucking innocent yourself. Don't fool yourself. If this was what you wanted," he said, digging fingers into my hair. "I hope you are happy now."
His eyes turned into a shade of disgust. "Attention seeking, bitch," he barked, before letting go of me.
"Me? Seeking attention? Of whom? Yours? You are barely a human. Awfully so!" I bit back, getting off of his filthy lap.
Fuck him.
"Stop it!" He snarled.
"Well, you started it!" I barked back, much to my amusement.
"I liked you better when you were just a squirming rat," he said, clenching his teeth. He unbuttoned his shirt. He removed his blazer.
Then, infuriatingly so, he rolled up his sleeves.
"I am not working for you! Drop me off the next block. I will just walk to my apartment," I said, looking away from him.
Fucker. I sat with my exposed back to the leather.
"Oh, you are so not going anywhere," his voice was alarmingly close.
"What are you doing?" I asked. But it was too late.
"Cant, please take us back to the club. Tell them to cancel all my meetings," he said. Almost immediately, the car took a turn by the roundabout.
We were going back.
I sat there, horrified.
"Stop—" I begged him.
"I am his damned wife, and I want you to stop!" I yelled, and my eyes met the old man's in the rear view mirror.
"Master Darren, the lady's got a point," Cant said, and the car slowed down before he hit the brakes close to the sidewalk.
"God, Cant! You sure are one lucky bastard. Only because I respect you," he seethed.
He fisted his palm and hit hard on the leather seat, causing me to squirm away from him.
"Don't hurt me. Please," I begged, as a tear rolled down my cheek.
"You really bring the worst out of me," he said, before lifting my chin to meet his gaze.
"You want to live life on your terms? I cannot allow that. That's asking too much from a man who doesn't know how to give up control.
You are going to work for me. I'll let you be with others. Do as you please at work.
We don't even have to cross paths. I will treat you like I treat my employees. I won't make your life hell. Will you stop driving me mad then?" He asked curtly.
And, surprisingly enough, he wiped a tear with his fingers.
"Turn around. I cannot let you go to your first day of work looking like a mess," he said, his voice smoldering.
Slowly, I turned my back to him as he zipped back the dress.
"Cant, you know what to do," he said, resigning. The car roared back to life.
The rest of the ride, I kept my words to myself as the tension lingered between us. So much for trying to stand my ground. What was I even thinking? Another tear rolled out.
This was going to be my life.