13. Ariyan
ARIYAN
Placing two fingers on their wrist, I held my breath, searching for the pulse.
Badum.
Badum.
Badum.
There it is, flickering like a dying candle in a stifling room. And while I knew I’d find a pulse, it didn’t take away from my disappointment at the life still beating inside that cursed body.
* * *
Fresh out of the shower, I grabbed my cologne from the shelf.
The same as every morning, I sprayed one spray on each pulse point while my skin was still moist, as this was the best way to ensure the scent would stick throughout the day.
Pleased, I placed the bottle back, then reached for my face cream when an unruly hair stuck to the sink caught my attention.
Putting the cream aside for now, I pinched the long dark hair between two fingers and brought it closer for better inspection.
Disgusting.
My nose scrunched up, and repulsed, I flushed it down the toilet.
After washing my hands, I quickly grabbed my face cream.
Putting a decent amount on my fingers, I moisturized my skin, the thought of that hair disrupting my peace like the buzz of a mosquito in the midst of summer.
Thankfully, by the time I was done with my skincare routine, I was calm enough to go and choose my clothes.
Humming the rhythm of a song that was stuck in my mind, I slowly traced my hand along the high couture hung in my closet, each piece worth hundreds of dollars, a mockery to my sanity.
Pausing, I took two steps back and pulled out a white button-down shirt made of Egyptian cotton.
I looked incredibly good in this one, especially when it was paired with—
“Perfect.” I smiled, taking out an off-white jacket I’d gotten back when I was in LA for business.
After picking out trousers of the same color and the right pair of loafers to go with them, I laid my outfit on the bed and stepped back to examine my choice.
Only, I couldn’t focus, not when my pillow wasn’t aligned with the other one.
Quietly, I walked over there to fix the error.
It might sound like the whim of a deranged mind, but ultimately, a man’s life was measured by the way he kept his bed, as mess tended to follow you around.
Which, in my line of work, was a recipe for disaster.
After putting on my slacks, I walked over to the mirror, where I buttoned my shirt, careful not to smudge the white fabric.
I’d already ruined a perfectly good set of new sheets yesterday, and I’d hate myself if I did it again.
Once I was all set, I went over to make myself a cup of tea.
While patiently waiting for the water to boil, I glanced out of the floor-to-ceiling window in my penthouse that overlooked Biscayne Bay, all the way down to the port.
It was then that something rattled in the back of my mind, an annoying feeling as if I’d forgotten something important.
My eye twitched at the thought just when the water began to boil.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the steam coming out of the pot, and I walked over to take it off the stove.
Call me old-fashioned, but water tasted so much better boiled this way.
Opening the top shelf, I took out a new box of jasmine tea.
I’d bought it recently after reading that it was supposed to be relaxing.
Pressing the tea bag to my nose, I closed my eyes and took a deep inhale of the aroma that brought up memories I wanted nothing to do with.
But sadly, that wasn’t how the human mind worked, as the past, whether you liked it or not, tended to creep up on you during the most mundane moments.
Done with my tea after one sip, I washed the mug and dried it with a towel before putting it back in place.
I then grabbed my helmet from near the door and left.
But it wasn’t until I reached the elevator that I finally remembered what I’d forgotten.
Going straight back inside the apartment, I ran down the hall, my nerves on edge.
How could I forget such a thing? My jaw twitched at my lack of professionalism.
In my defense, my plate had been beyond full for the last few weeks, and it was only natural to make a mistake.
Although it wasn’t an excuse, especially not an acceptable one.
Reaching the bedroom door, I took a deep breath before pushing it open, my eyes pinning on the bed and what I’d left on it.
“You sneaky little thing,” I sighed, smiling, then walked in and grabbed my name tag, which was resting on the sheets. It must have fallen when I picked up my clothes.
Satisfied, I pinned it to my jacket, glad I remembered this small little detail, because just imagine the mess it could have caused? Finally ready, I left for work, not forgetting to shut the door behind me.
SANTIAGO
The sound of a door slamming jolted me awake, and my eyes snapped open after dreaming the craziest dream I’d ever had. For real, what the fuck was that shit? A throbbing pain on the right side of my face cut through my thoughts, and I reached my hand down to brush it when I couldn’t.
What the fuck?
Confused, I jerked up and tried moving my arms, only to realize they were tied to the bed.
“Sure we need that?” I half laughed after he tightened the knot.
“Painful?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, boss.”
My eyes widened after realizing last night wasn’t at all a dream, but real fucking life, and if the leather belt cutting into my wrists wasn’t enough proof, the pain in my face was.
Shit. I was gonna kill that son of a bitch, but first, how the fuck did I get out of this mess? Looking down my body, I realized I was butt naked, and to top it all, my abdomen was covered with dry cum. I closed my eyes, jaw tensing while I remembered how I came a moment before passing out.
What a fucking embarrassment.
I was also hungover as fuck. Last night I downed, what, half a bottle of vodka?
And took that shitty pill he gave me. No wonder I ended up tied naked to a fucking bed.
But what the hell even happened? Everything was messed up—all I recalled were bits of events like him going completely crazy out of nowhere, beating the shit out of me with a knuckle-duster before choking me—
I’m no pussy, sweetheart…
I froze, remembering his words. He spoke fluent Spanish, like someone native, which sent me tripping because had he known Spanish all along?
But… what did he say before that part? He was telling me some story?
Fuck, I have no clue. Everything was one big blur, and currently, I had more important things to worry about, the first being getting free.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled my hands toward me, not giving a shit about how the leather charred my wrist.
“Fucckkk!” I screamed, the whole bed shaking with my frustration.
Breathing heavily, I looked around the room when I noticed the clock hanging on the wall in front of me.
My vision was a bit off, probably from getting pounded, so I squinted to read the time, realizing it was eight fucking a.m. Fucking shit motherfucker.
I needed to meet my parole officer in less than an hour, and there I was, tied to a bed while hungover out of my fucking ass.
“No, no, no,” I whined, shaking my wrists. “Please, God, please—”
Begging like a lame-ass bitch would get me nowhere, so I paused and collected myself.
“You got it, Santi,” I said out loud. Perking up into a sitting position, I took a deep breath, then, with every bit of power I had, pushed forward like a damn bull, feeling every muscle in my body ripping apart.
I screamed, muscles tensing and veins popping until the bed’s headboard cracked, and liking the sound, I continued pushing forward until it fucking broke, and I was sent forward.
Sweating and out of breath, I brought my hands in front of me, and then, treating the belt like my boxing glove, I began untucking the buckle with my teeth. It took a while and also hurt because of the wounds to my gums, but after fifteen minutes or so, I was free.
Fucking finally.
Every muscle in my body ached like a bitch, and when I got up, the whole room spun.
I squeezed my eyes shut to balance myself, but the second I did, images from last night returned to me.
That fucker had played me like a fool, and he was going to pay.
Clenching my fists together, I picked up my clothes from the floor.
But as I rose, I came face-to-face with my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes widened, seeing all the bruises and dried blood, and I took a step forward, placing the pads of my fingers under the black eye he gave me.
Son of a bitch.
I was a total mess, but one thing was for sure—the bastard was about to pay.
First, I’d have to get to my meeting and pass it.
Ignoring how badly I needed a shower, I put on my jeans, then threw the shirt over my head, already stepping out from that damn room.
Walking into the empty house, I looked around.
Everything was bright and clean, like a fucking museum.
It pissed me off, when a thought occurred to me.
Grinning, I whipped my dick out, then, in the center of his living room, I took a piss, getting it all over his lovely white couch.
That will serve the fucker right.
Done, I did a little shake, then tucked my cock back in my jeans and zipped myself up. It still wasn’t nearly enough payback, but hey, it was a start.