MASEN
Chapter 17
She's looking everywhere except at me. I guess my emotional support could be better. Then again, all my emotions are shackled in a dungeon somewhere, buried underneath a pile of desert sand.
As Bella looks out of the window, overlooking downtown San Jose, I take a beat to gather my thoughts. I brought her here and had Victoria secure a key for me to the room next to the Mayor's suite. We're literally next door to Alistair and his concubine. How can she not be upset about this? I'm a monster, letting her go through this. I should've just come by myself and gathered the evidence myself. But I couldn't leave her alone. I can't leave her alone.
The back of her black dress dips dangerously low, only emphasizing the swell of her ass. I might not be in touch with my emotions, but even I have to admit that that shit is doing things to me. Things I swore were dead before I met her.
What if we fight fire with fire?
I don't even know what the fuck she's talking about.
"Do you have men over at the mansion?" It slips out of my mouth before I can take those words back.
Bella turns around on her bare feet, her heels discarded by the door as soon as we enter the room. She chuckles.
"You're kidding, right?" She starts laughing. I don't know whether it's bitter or just…laughing.
I don't respond, probably giving her my answer by the look in my eyes.
"You're not kidding…" she mumbles to herself. "Do you really think I have the luxury of going out and picking up guys?"
"I don't know," I tell her. "Maybe that's why I was hired? To keep you away from testosterone and keep you in your lane?"
She snorts.
"Yeah, sure. That's why they teamed me up with the testosterone bomb that is yourself. Something about over exposure, maybe?" There's this dangerous twinkle and a flush to her cheeks. I think she's saying this out loud by accident. But still, that doesn't change the fact that flames lick the side of my face, sending heat up my spine. Heat that spurts up my body and betrays me, lighting up my cheeks.
Something inside me shifts. I don't know what it is, but it sparks a part of me that has been locked away forever. A part that hasn't come out to play in years. A part of me that I thought had died a lifetime ago.
"Bombs are quite dangerous, Mrs. Anderson."
I watch her eyes dilate as I step closer. If I hadn't noticed before, I have now. She's attracted to me somehow. And as much as I'd like to back away from that fact, I find myself drawn to her. Like an addict to bourbon, tipping back that bottle even though there's nothing more than a single drop left. As if I'd scour the earth for more. I'd run until my feet were bleeding. All for just one more hit.
"They can't be any more dangerous than the tyrant I married, Mr. Masen," she retorts. "Besides, bombs are instant and swift. They're explosive and violent and loud. All he ever did was poison me slowly, torturing me over the course of the last four years. I'd rather go to hell quickly than end up in heaven at a snail's pace."
I swallow down a lump in my throat, my focus gone.
"Bombs are also fickle and unpredictable." I frown so hard I'm afraid it'll be etched in between my brows forever. She's so wrong for looking at me like this… her eyes like whisky, smoldering like embers, those lips turned up just enough to make her look like a seductive goddess. I don't know what's coming over me. I've dealt with beautiful women before. And I've continued to feel nothing. As if every emotion died the second I put on that uniform all those years ago.
"My life has been scripted for so long I can't even remember what it's like to have it fickle and unpredictable. Even when it was what you're describing, it was always…formulaic, somehow."
"It's better that way," I start. "To know what's coming. It prepares you and strengthens you. You're never caught off guard." I've been conditioned to believe these words forever.
"So you honestly never let yourself be surprised, Masen?" she asks, voice husky.
I think we both know we're not talking in metaphors anymore. Maybe we never actually talked in metaphors.
"Whenever I'm surprised, it's always a bad thing." I think back, my mind drifting to pale sand and ruthless rays of sunshine.
"The past haunts you," she remarks suddenly, those big eyes pinning me down as she walks closer, her perfume engulfing me.
"I know." I'm sick of fighting this. So I tell her the truth. I let her find out about the darkness and how it suffocates me with its heavy arms. They seem to be made out of lead.
"Don't assume your future will be as bad." Bella's hand rests on my forearm. I can feel the electricity sizzle even though I'm still wearing this ridiculous suit. Here she is, the one who's being cheated on and abused, comforting me.
"What about your future?"
She shrugs, averting her eyes again. Clearly she doesn't want to talk about her struggles. Instead, she rolls her eyes.
"I need to protect you," I start. "Not because he pays me to, no…" I say when she gives me that look. "Because I fucking know how bad the world can be, princess. And I don't want you anywhere near that."
"No war can be fought alone, can it?" She gives me words I once gave her with a cheeky grin that makes her look careless and free. If only the army meant it like she does.
"Exactly."
I remove my jacket and drape it over the chair that's by the desk. I feel claustrophobic by her presence, by the room, the intensity of this fucking chemistry.
"So no…" she starts again after a beat of silence. "I do not bring men into the house."
"Okay." I gnaw my bottom lip as I feel my heartbeat throb in the scar by my eyebrow. I'm too curious about her. And we all know it killed the cat. There's nothing good about getting too fucking curious. "Do you want to?" It's like my chest aches when I ask her that. I have no right even uttering those words. She doesn't owe me anything.
"I used to think that might be the only thing that helped with all this loneliness," she says, eyes miles away. "But no. I don't. Haven't even cheated on him once…" I don't know if she realizes the regret illuminating her face. She really should have. Then again, she should've run as far as she could as soon as she noticed the abuse wasn't a one-time thing. Or even before that. But who am I to judge? I let them brainwash me for years.
I nod and focus my attention on the way the corners of the bedding aren't tucked in properly. It annoys the ever-loving crap out of me. And that annoys me even more, the fact that I notice.
Then our moment is brutally interrupted by the banging against the wall. My head shoots up, eyes meeting Bella's. She looks like she wants to run for the fucking hills.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
One nasty, high-pitched moan followed by another. And another.
"Oh, fucking hell, I can't listen to this…" Bella mutters.
"We need to catch this on film," I say.
She's shooting daggers at me.
