Contracted To The Ruthless CEO

Chapter 6

LAUREL

He groaned softly as his chest heaved against mine with my back to the floor and in my attempt to shrivel away, my head hit hard on the floorboard.

His palm quickly slipped underneath the back of my head with the creases of his forehead etched with something I could only understand as concern.

My saliva hitched in my throat as his eyes held mine, the blue hue of his eyes had darkened and the ridge leading to his lips looked perfectly aligned.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice had lost that menacing touch for a second.

I nodded slowly as we heard rushing footsteps, at least they didn’t leave us to die underneath this heavy load of wood.

Suddenly I heard a panicked tone “Young master” it was Dylan rushing to our aid, I could always make out his voice from the rest of them, it wasn’t snarky or worse, false remorse.

Daemon tried to move above me but his arms made a snapping sound that made my eyes widen with fear.

“Don’t move!” I panicked “Dont try to be a hero right now” my voice came off throaty as though tears would follow right after. His body was the only things standing between me and impending doom.

He stopped struggling and waited until there were a pair of hands pulling it up from his back and as much as his face stifled, trying his very best to not make a sound, I heard him groan underneath his strong man act.

After the heavy door was lifted from him, Dylan clasped his hands together, his head bowed slightly and his body almost quivering.

After helping himself up, Daemon reached out his hand to help me and when I took his offer to help, he held my eyes for what I could count as just a millisecond or more but there was a sparkle that felt sincere remorse.

“My apologies young master” Dylan said “I didn’t think the hinges would come loose..”

Daemon stopped him with a wave of his hand “It’s alright, my woman I will just have our rest now..”

“But young master..” he tried to protest but Daemon didn’t let him, instead he just took me down the hall to what he would describe as the smallest guest room.

“But..the bed is so tiny” I complained “And it’s only one”

He didn’t seem to care, the beads of sweat that formed on his forehead had started trickling down his face, causing his hair to dampen.

“Just let it go Laurel” he groaned, throwing himself onto the bed that still sprung up. Whilst I checked how smaller the room looked in comparison to the other one, his room.

I noticed the antiques that laid on the dressing table “So, you grew up here?” My question rolled off my tongue as I opened my bag scavenging for the ointment I had always carried for trips.

He let out an exasperated sigh “If I could call that growing up”

“Yes. Found it!” I exclaimed, taking out the tiny bottle of gold colored liquid.

“What’s that? What did you find?” He inquired from the bed, his tone was a husky baritone now and I turned to look at him still sprawled on the bed without any enthusiasm.

I rushed towards him like a child at a treasure hunt event “This” I dangled it just above his face and he sat upright staring at me like I looked absurd holding a bottle like a trinket.

“What’s that meant to do?”

With a low voice, I signaled that he move closer to me but he rolled his eyes “Ughh..it’ll heal you”

“A bottle of..whatever this is, will heal me? There’s nothing to heal” he turned away when I placed my hand on his shoulder and her gruntled.

“You don’t need healing ey?” I raised my brow, turning the cap and pouring a bit of the ointment onto my hands “Come on, take off your shirt let me apply this…”

I didn’t realize what I had just said until my sentence was complete.

“I don’t mean it that way…” my face flushed “I just want to repay you..for saving me” I stuttered, turning away “I’ll even look away when you take off your shirt”

Laughter rippled from his mouth. I had never heard him do that before, I always had the thought that he was a spawn of satan and only delighted in the pain of others, me especially.

“You’ll see my bare back chipmunk..”

“I’m many things but a chipmunk, far from that” I shot back, my face still turned to the wall.

“Alright, chipmunk, have you ever been a masseuse?” He asked, his shirt thrown towards me as I threw it back in his face making him let out another low, hoarse laughter.

I turned to look at his defined muscles with a number tattoo just below his nape “What’s wrong? Did you find a knife that you’re scared of?” His menacing tone was back, sharper maybe.

I slapped onto the shoulder that I heard cramping from and he groaned hard, pushing his head backwards “And how does that feel?” He didn’t answer “I thought as much.”

Pouring a bit of the liquid onto his shoulder, I rubbed onto his back slowly.

“You’d be suprised at the part time jobs I’ve had to take to survive” I started but he didn’t say anything as though he was waiting for me to speak, to tell my story.

I didn’t say anything afterwards, letting the silence fill the room to mix with the scent of roses and spice.

“Go on, why did you stop talking?” His voice was low, sparse.

I turned to face him, pouring more oil onto my palm and rubbing his arm slowly “My story bores the heck out of people” I looked up to see his face “It’s only useful when you want to sleep” I let out a faint laughter.

“But you don’t bore me, your voice doesn’t sound half as bad” he chuckled “Apart from the times you’re nagging…”

“I don’t nag!” I pulled his arm and he groaned in response.

“Sorry..” I whispered gently but he only stared at me with a softened gaze before reaching out his finger to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“And you don’t look half as bad too..”