26
The drive back from my mother's house was quiet.
Lenora sat beside me, her eyes focused on the road ahead, her lips pressed together in that way she did when she was lost in thought.
I didn't push her to talk—she'd always been like that, quiet and reserved, but the kind of person who, when she spoke, made you listen.
Tonight had been... unexpected. My mother had taken to her almost immediately.
I had half-expected the evening to be awkward, but it wasn't. My mother's warmth toward Lenora was undeniable.
It made me think—made me realize—how much I appreciated that she was the kind of person who could make anyone feel at ease, even in situations like these, where most people would be intimidated by the background of my family.
And the surprising fact that she had in some sort of way led Lenora to me.
Though I still was confused what my mother mentioned about her designs being good.
As we neared her apartment, I could feel the tension between us.
It wasn't the uncomfortable kind, though.
No, it was something else. A new kind of quiet, one I couldn't place.
It was like there was something unspoken between us that both of us were too afraid to acknowledge.
I knew she felt it, too. I could see it in the way her hands fidgeted in her lap, in the way her gaze darted to the window.
I pulled up to her apartment and turned the engine off, letting the silence stretch out between us for a moment longer.
I wanted to say something—to break the silence, to make her feel less.
.. uncertain. But the words didn't come.
I was so used to being the one in control, but with her, it was different.
She made me feel... unsteady in a way I couldn't explain.
"You're okay, right?" I finally asked, my voice low.
She looked over at me, her eyes soft but guarded. "Yeah," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm fine."
I didn't believe her. I could tell there was more to what she wasn't saying. The way she held herself, the way her shoulders were stiff, the way her gaze kept shifting—there was a quiet distance between us, and it bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
I stepped out of the car, walking around to her side to open the door.
As I did, I caught a glimpse of the faintest flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.
It was enough to make me pause, to make me want to reach out and pull her closer, to ask her what was really going on behind that carefully constructed facade of hers.
But I didn't. Instead, I held out my hand.
"Come on," I said softly. "I'll walk you inside."
She hesitated, looking at my hand for a moment before she took it, her fingers trembling just slightly against mine.
It was a small thing, but it sent an unexpected wave of warmth through me.
I wanted to protect her, to shield her from whatever she was holding back, but I didn't know how to do that without pushing her further away.
We walked up to her apartment, the soft sound of our footsteps echoing in the hallway.
I could feel the weight of the moment between us, thick and heavy.
When we reached her door, I stood there for a moment, not sure what to say or do.
My instinct was to leave—leave her to her own space, her own thoughts.
But another part of me wanted to stay, wanted to do something for her that she didn't even realize she needed.
I turned to her, and this time, when our eyes met, I didn't look away. I could see the vulnerability in her gaze now, the way she was holding back.
"I like your mum." She said quietly, "I don't think I've had anyone look at me with motherly affection in awhile " she swallowed.
I wanted to tell her that I could give her all kinds of affections.
Slow the fuck down Luca.
Her lips parting slightly as if she was about to say something. But she didn't. Instead, she took a step closer, her eyes searching mine like she was looking for something.
I could feel the pull between us, the tension I hadn't wanted to admit was there.
Without thinking, I reached up and cupped her face, my thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.
It was a simple gesture, but it felt more intimate than anything else I had done with her.
Her breath caught, and for a moment, I thought she might pull away.
But she didn't. She let me touch her, let me hold her gaze, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice so soft it almost sounded like a prayer. "For tonight."
I nodded, the words stuck in my throat. But instead of speaking, I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers for a brief moment. The connection between us was electric, but it was also tender, something I couldn't quite explain.
"I'm glad you enjoyed baby."
She had her hands clutched tight on my t-shirt as we stood therein silence.
"Are you going to be okay by yourself tonight?"
That seemed to have dulled her face but she nodded slowly, "Yes."
Of course not.
"Liar," i said taking her chin in between my thumb and forefinger. "Lenora it's okay to let yourself rest and let me take care of you."
She looked at me, her mismatched eyes starting to tear.
"I..I don't want to be a-"
"Shh.." I stop her. "I don't ever want you thinking that your a burden, you've been taking care of yourself for too long now, let me in Lenora." I looked into her. My voice sounding almost desperate but I didn't care.
"Let me take care of you now," I breath holding her tight. "You don't have to carry it all by yourself."
She looked at me, green-blue eyes calculating my words as she held onto me tight, her grip on my t-shirt tightening as I wrapped my hands around her waist.
There was something vulnerable in her gaze, something that called to every protective instinct I had. At the same time, her innocence was a temptation I was dangerously close to giving in to.
I reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. My fingers lingered, the softness of her skin sending a jolt of electricity through me.
"Luca..." she began, her voice trailing off.
"Tell me to leave," I murmured, my hand now resting gently on her cheek.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. That was all the answer I needed.
I tilted her chin up, my thumb brushing over her lower lip as I leaned in capturing her lips that's been distracting me since day one. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But when her hands reached up to rest against my chest, something inside me snapped.
I deepened the kiss, my hands moving to her waist to pull her closer.
She fit perfectly against me, her softness a stark contrast to the hard edges of my world.
I wanted more—needed more—as I held her tight, she let me completely take dominance as I slipped my tongue in her sweet little mouth sucking her deep.
her little whimpers started to increase string my cock awake as I pushed her back against the wall deepening the kiss further.
She tasted so fucking sweet and much more.
Her hands now on my hair gently tugging every time I bit her lips and tightening when I started to suck on them.
Fuck she's irresistible.
My hands that were around her little waist started going lower as I came to a stop on her ass, round, firm, and a perfect handful but I forced myself to pull back slowly, my breathing uneven.
She let out a gasp catching her breath.
"L..luca.."She whispered, her voice horse.
Fuck. I wanted nothing but to take her right here. Taste that sweet little pussy of hers while savoring her moans and then fucking her all night until she couldn't feel her legs anymore. Then keep repeating it.
My cock was hard, and impatient.
But I had to be patient. She's too sweet for my dark desires now.
Not yet Luca.
Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly swollen, and I couldn't help but smirk at the sight.
Perfect.
"Can you stay tonight please." Her voice came. Innocent hopeful eyes looking up at me.
How could I deny this.
"Of course sweetheart."
Back in the apartment Lenora had left to change as I took in her little place. It was cozy, neat and smelled of her—and I couldn't help but be disappointed that eventually I'd have to go back to my lonely mansion which didn't smell like her comfort.
The living room and kitchen were in one open concept space. A medium sized couch sitting with wooden shelves behind which had many books filled. Just as I was about to look through her collection I noticed none of them were English.
They were in Arabic and Russian. I was able to identify Russian since I understood it well and Arabic because the letters cannot be mistakened for any others.
Interesting.
The gentle sound of her footsteps brought my gaze up as she entered the room, balancing two mismatched mugs of tea.
Her beauty always surprised me.
"You read Arabic?" I asked, holding up the book.
Her eyes widened briefly before a faint blush crept across her cheeks. She set the mugs down on the coffee table, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes," she said softly.
"And Russian too?" I gestured to another book on the shelf, its bold Cyrillic title standing out.
She hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her sweater. "Yes."
I tilted my head, intrigued. "Why didn't you mention this before?"
Her shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug. "It's not something that comes up often."
I stepped closer, sensing there was more to the story. "It's not exactly common. Most people don't grow up bilingual in Arabic and Russian."
While I expected her to laugh she sighed, her gaze dropping to the floor. "That's because I'm half Syrian and half Russian," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
The revelation hit me like a puzzle piece snapping into place.
Her unique features that I couldn't quite pin down, the depth in her mismatched eyes, her accent though it was clearly English having minor differences in the way she pronounced certain words—it all made sense now.
"I didn't know that," I said, my voice softer now.
She glanced up at me, her expression wary. "I don't talk about it much. It's... complicated."
"Complicated how?" I asked gently, sitting on the edge of the couch.
Her gaze drifted to the window, her expression distant and sad. "My mother was Syrian. She met my father while he was studying abroad in Damascus. They fell in love, got married, and moved to Aleppo. That's where I was born."
She paused, her fingers gripping the edge of the couch cushion. "But when the war started, everything changed. My father... he went back to Russia for work... or maybe that's when his selfish side started showing, and my mother and I were left behind. Things got bad—really bad."
Her voice wavered, and I felt a sharp pang in my chest. I wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but I sensed she needed to get this out.
"One night, our house was hit, I don't remember clearly, I was only five,"
She continued, her tone hollow. "My mother managed to get us out, but we lost everything.
She decided we needed to leave. We crossed the border into Turkey and eventually made our way to England where our dad joined, but.
." her voice turned hoarse. "Things weren't getting good, My father.
.. he wasn't a faithful man and it caused fights between my parents.
My mother at first was hopeful but as time went by she became more quiet and so did his rage—which became worse. "
I stared at her, stunned by the weight of what she'd just shared. She was so young, so vibrant, and yet she carried a past heavy enough to crush anyone.
"You've been through so much," I said quietly.
She nodded, a sad smile tugging at her lips, "And with time my mother's sorrow became too much, she stopped talking, looking, and rarely left our house. She was like a machine working... like she had lost the will to keep living"
The urge to pull her into my arms was overwhelming, but I held back, letting her speak.
I glanced back at the book in my hand. "This was hers?"
Lenora nodded, her eyes softening. "Yeah. It was one of her favorites, back in the day when she had a little bit hope that we'd be able to escape dad. She always said poetry was the language of the soul."
There was a weight in her words, a quiet sadness that made me want to pull her into my arms and shield her from whatever ghosts lingered in her past.
"Lenora.." my voice was quite, "Your father... was his abuse ever physical?" I asked while at the same time the wait making my rage tick.
"No." She shook her head making me relieved, "He didn't hit me or harm me in any way that was physical."
Her eyes were dropping indicating she was tired as I pulled her closer, but she wasn't done talking.
"My mother—she used to read me stories about ancient Rome and Greece as well when I was a kid. I guess that's where my love for architecture and art in general started."
Her words clicked something into place. The sketches I'd seen on her coffee table earlier—blueprints and designs, meticulously detailed.
"You're talented," I said, my tone shifting to something more serious. "Those sketches in the other room—why aren't you working in the design department at my company?"
She blinked, surprised by the abrupt question. "When I interviewed, the recruiter said I needed more experience, so they offered me the assistant position instead."
The thought of her talent being overlooked ignited a flicker of anger inside me. It all making sense of what my mother said during dinner earlier
"That's ridiculous," I said sharply. "You clearly have the skills."
She shrugged, a small, self-deprecating smile on her lips. "I didn't mind. Honestly, I was just grateful to have the job."
I exhaled slowly, trying to temper the frustration building inside me. Part of me wanted to storm into the HR department and demand answers. But another part of me, the selfish part, realized that if she had been placed anywhere else, I wouldn't have met her.
"I'm glad you took the position," I admitted, my voice quieter now.
Her eyes met mine, wide and searching. "Why?"
Because you've become the one thing I can't stop thinking about. Because I don't know how I ever functioned without you in my life.
"Because you're good at what you do," I said instead, though the words felt inadequate.
She smiled again, a soft, genuine smile that lit up her face in a way that made it impossible to look away. "Thank you, Luca."
Her gratitude only deepened the ache in my chest. She deserved so much more than what life had given her, and I found myself silently vowing to ensure she got it.
For now, though, I was content to sit here with her, in this quiet little apartment that felt far too empty for someone like Lenora.
Because as much as she tried to hide it, I could see the loneliness etched into the corners of her life. And I was determined to fill those spaces with something—anything—that would make her smile like that more often.
Later after an hour I helped her settle into bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin as she nestled into the pillows. She looked up at me, her mismatched eyes wide and innocent that twisted something dark deep inside me.
"You don't have to sleep on the couch," she said hesitantly. "I—I mean, if you don't mind..."
I considered for only a moment before nodding. "I'll stay."
Climbing into bed beside her, I kept a respectful distance, though every instinct screamed at me to pull her closer. She turned onto her side, her back to me, and I couldn't help but notice the curve of her shoulders, the delicate line of her neck.
Focus, Luca.
"Goodnight, Lenora," I said softly.
"Goodnight," she whispered, her voice laced with exhaustion.
Sometime in the night when I was still loosing my mind over her I was alerted to the sound of her murmurings. At first, I thought she was awake, but then I realized her words were incoherent, her breathing shallow and panicked.
"Noo... please, n..noo..." she whimpered, her voice broken and trembling.
I sat up immediately, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Lenora," I said gently, but firmly enough to cut through her dream. "Wake up."
She gasped, her eyes flying open as she bolted upright. Tears streamed down her face, and she clutched the blanket like it was a lifeline.
"Hey, hey," I said, scooting closer and taking her hands in mine. "It's okay. You're safe."
She shook her head, her breathing erratic. "It felt so r..real..."
I cupped her face, forcing her to look at me. "It wasn't real. Shhh I'm here. Nothing and no one is going to hurt you."
Her eyes searched mine, as if looking for reassurance. Slowly, her breathing began to steady,l her sobs the only sound as she leaned into my touch.
"Luca..." she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I've got you," I said, my voice softer now. "You're safe with me."
I pulled her into my arms, holding her close as her tears soaked into my shirt. Her small frame trembled against me, and I rubbed soothing circles on her back kissing her head, murmuring quiet reassurances.
Eventually, her breathing evened out, and I realized she'd fallen asleep against my chest. Carefully, I shifted us back onto the bed, keeping her close as I settled against the pillows.
As I held her, I found myself vowing once again to destroy the fucker who had hurt her.
Because Lenora wasn't just my assistant. She was mine. And I would do whatever it took to protect her.