Chapter 13 #3
A slight breeze passes, as more of his dark blonde hair falls from its waxed, pushed-back style and grazes his forehead.
I can’t pull my eyes away from the cigarette balanced between his perfectly plush lips. Inhaling the smoke and pushing it out in two long streams from his nostrils.
He looks terrifying, tall and brooding, like he would snap your neck if you interrupted his smoke.
But I don’t miss the circles under his eyes, and I can’t stop the questions that rise to the tip of my tongue because of them. He looks tired, his gaze fixed on the large library building, his expression distant and glazed. I want to reach out and trace them with my fingertips.
I stare, looking at how he leans against the car, menacing in his stature.
Then he sees me, and his whole demeanor relaxes just a notch.
His gaze darkens, dragging over me in a slow, deliberate sweep, a look meant to be felt. The kind that burns, that lingers, that makes my breath hitch before I can stop it.
He knows exactly what he’s doing when he trails his eyes from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I wish I saw more in his eyes than hunger, but other than the desire to fuck, I’m unable to find anything else in them.
I slow my steps, my stomach twisting and flipping as I get closer. He watches each step as I approach, his sharp eyes locked on mine, assessing, waiting.
I hate that my heart starts racing. I hate that my body betrays me before my mind can catch up. I hate that despite everything, I still want him. I want to know what he did all day. I want to know what it feels like to lie next to him in bed at night and wake up with him there in the morning.
I stop a few feet away, tilting my head, knowing there are softer things I’d prefer to say, yet, willing my voice to stay steady, I find I'm unable to bite back my snarky wit. "Wait here all day for me?"
He exhales smoke, his lips curling into the kind of smirk that could ruin a person. "Had better things to do."
I don’t miss my toes wiggling in my heeled boots as he flirts with me.
I cross my arms, pretending his gaze isn’t tracing the movement as it pushes my breasts together, that it isn’t setting my skin on fire.
He leans forward and picks up a strand of my hair, placing it over my shoulder while I breathe him in. Smoke, always smoke, with a hint of something sharper and more masculine.
His smirk deepens, and in that moment, I know he saw the way my breath hitched. And the smirk that’s still on his face shows me he enjoyed every second of it.
I roll my eyes, but I don’t answer.
He flicks the cigarette away, straightens up, and opens the passenger door for me. "After you, darling."
I hesitate for half a second before slipping inside.
Because, despite everything, I still want to go wherever he’s taking me. I can only hope it’s home and there are no more surprises. Even the looming estate is still too much for me to handle.
The car's cream leather interior is cool against my skin as I settle into the seat.
The scent of leather, faint cologne, and a lingering trace of cigarette smoke fills the space between us.
Hayden slides in beside me, shutting the door with an easy flick of his wrist before starting the engine.
The low purr of the vintage Mercedes vibrates beneath us as he pulls away from the curb, merging into traffic with practiced ease.
"Angel" by Massive Attack plays quietly in the background, the intensity matching the energy radiating off of Hayden's shoulders.
I glance at him. "So, do I get to keep going to class?"
Hayden keeps his eyes on the road, one hand draped casually over the wheel. "Depends."
"On what?"
His smirk is slight, but it’s there. "On whether you behave."
I scoff, turning in my seat to face him fully. "Behave? Does this mean you have faith in me?"
He ignores me. His fingers tap against the wheel, turning up the song slightly, his expression unreadable.
His look sends an unwelcome chill through me. I sit back, crossing my arms. "I can’t promise always to be perfectly behaved, but I can promise to try to be on my best behavior."
"I fail to see how those things are any different."
I narrow my eyes. "Was simply hoping you wouldn’t be able to. You're behaving as expected."
Hayden’s jaw tightens slightly, his grip on the wheel flexing before he forces it to relax. "Sharp wit for such a bratty woman."
My pulse kicks up. "I beg your pardon?"
His smirk returns.
Frustration flares hot in my chest. "This whole avoidant personality of yours is getting tired."
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "And your attitude is exhausting."
I glare at him. "Is repetition all you're capable of, or are you finally going to put that Ivy League education to use and engage in an actual conversation?"
"Watch it." He grunts at me, speeding up the car towards a road I finally recognise.
I let out a sharp breath, turning to stare out the window, my reflection glinting back at me in the glass. The silence stretches between us, thick with unsaid things.
Hayden always has the upper hand. And I hate that part of me still wants to know what’s going on in his head.
We pull into the long, winding driveway of his estate, the tires crunching softly over the gravel, and as we near the Estate, the pit in my stomach increases.
"I’ll expect you to be able to get ready for dinner without causing a scene."
I frown, shifting in my seat. "I wasn’t aware we had plans."
His smirk sharpens. "We do, every evening. Eight sharp. Wear something nice."
I scoff, feeling frustrated that I can’t penetrate his walls. "Oh, of course. Let me make sure to schedule time between my captivity and your cryptic threats to dress up for whatever power play this is."
He just watches me, his fingers still drumming a slow rhythm on the wheel. "I like it when you dress up for me."
My stomach flips, and I hate it. "How generous of you." Something in his tone unsettles me. "Fine. Where are we going?"
His fingers drum against the steering wheel, slow and deliberate. "We’re not going anywhere. You’ll be in the dining room. On your knees, waiting for me by the head of the table."
My stomach tightens at the way he says it, at the way his eyes don’t waver.
It’s infuriating, the way he makes commands sound like inevitabilities.
Hayden has a way of acting as though he already knows my answer before I do.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I roll my eyes to cover it.
"You have a way of making dinner sound like a death sentence. "
Hayden’s smirk deepens. "That depends on how well you behave."
I narrow my eyes. "You keep saying that like I’m supposed to be scared."
He tilts his head slightly, studying me in a way that makes my pulse trip over itself. "No, Martine. I say it because I know you’re not."
A shiver runs through me, but I lift my chin. "And what if I don’t show up?"
His eyes darken, something flickering behind them. "You will, brat."
I hold his gaze for a long moment, the air between us charged, stretched tight like a wire ready to snap. I hate that he always sounds so sure of me. I hate that, deep down, I already know he’s right.
Still, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. So instead, I lift my chin, feigning indifference. "Guess we’ll see."
The moment we arrive in front of the looming entrance, he throws the car into park without hesitation. Before I can react, he reaches over and grabs my chin, turning my face toward him. His eyes drop to my lips, and he stares for a second like he’s thinking about what to do next.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth in anticipation, and only once I release it do his eyes darken with desire. A desire so deep even he fails to mask it.
Then he kisses me, soft and slow, completely unexpected. Pressing himself into me and using my jaw to drag me across the car console, he pulls his lips against mine. It's softer than I expected, and when he pushes his tongue into my mouth to taste me, I moan.
I freeze. My whole body reacts before my brain can catch up. I shudder, not because I’m cold, but because the kiss feels too tender. Too real. I don’t know what to do with the way it makes me feel.
So I act with cowardice and I pull back quickly, mutter something I can’t even remember, and rush out of the car with his taste on my lips.
I don’t even bother looking back; I move so quickly from embarrassment that I almost trip over my own feet.
I run straight to my room and start getting ready, hoping it’ll distract me from how much I want him to kiss me again.
How much I wish I had just stayed and indulged in the taste of him.
Instead, I turn red from the embarrassment. That one press of his lips made my underwear wet and sticky.
An hour later, I stand before the mirror, adjusting the thin straps of my dress, my fingers grazing over smooth skin. The fabric is a light cream, clinging to my curves in a way that makes me look nearly naked. I smooth a hand down my waist, feeling the tension coiled beneath my ribs.
If I want to make a statement, this would be it. And it’s the statement that will keep me brave, clothes acting as armor against what I know will be surely asked of me.
I breathe in and straighten my shoulders, as I try my best to even my breaths and exhale slowly.
The house is silent as I make my way down the grand staircase, my heels clicking against marble, swallowed by the heavy hush of the mansion.
The dining room is waiting for me, empty but for the ticking of an old clock and the wind moving the bushes outside gently against the windowpanes.
I step inside, and the scent of polished wood and old smoke from the fireplace settles around me. It’s not the smoke of Hayden I wish to be smelling. The chandelier hums with a low golden light, casting long, languid shadows across the table. His chair at the head is empty.
But he is here.