My Lustful Arrangement With The Hockey Player

7

ISABELLA

Darkness. Cold, damp air clawed at my skin as I ran, my feet pounding against uneven pavement. Shadows loomed around me, their faces twisted and cruel, their voices echoing off the narrow alley walls.

“There she is! Get her!”

My heart slammed against my ribs, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I stumbled forward, my legs burning with effort. I knew this place—the crumbling buildings, the flickering streetlights, the smell of rot and decay. It was my old neighborhood, the one I’d fled from.

I glanced over my shoulder, my blood turning to ice as I saw them—Henry’s debtors. Their faces were contorted with rage, their eyes glinting with malice as they closed in on me.

“No… no, please!” I cried, my voice echoing off the brick walls. I turned a corner, my shoulder slamming into the rough stone as I stumbled, barely managing to stay upright. My chest heaved, panic tightening its grip as I saw a figure standing at the end of the alley.

“Henry!” Relief flooded me as I ran towards him, his familiar silhouette a beacon of hope. “Please, help me! They’re… they’re after me!”

But as I drew closer, his face came into focus. Cold, gray eyes stared back at me, his lips curving into a sinister grin. “Help you?” His voice was low, mocking. “Why would I help you? You’re just collateral, Isabella. A debt I needed to pay.”

I stumbled back, horror washing over me as his hand shot out, shoving me hard. I lost my balance, my body lurching forward into the waiting arms of his debtors. Their laughter echoed in my ears as soon as they got a grip of me.

“No! Henry! Don’t do this!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face as I struggled, my nails scraping against rough skin. But he just watched, his expression blank, detached, as they dragged me away.

His face blurred, twisting into something monstrous as his laughter joined theirs, ringing in my ears, growing louder and louder until—

I bolted upright, a strangled gasp escaping my lips as my eyes flew open. My heart was racing, my skin damp with sweat. The darkness of my bedroom was heavy, the only sound was my ragged breathing as I tried to steady myself.

I looked around, my gaze darting to the small window. A faint, gray light seeped through the thin curtains. Dawn. It was dawn.

I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, feeling my heart thudding beneath my ribs. Just a nightmare. Just a memory that refused to let me go.

I drew in a shaky breath, my shoulders sagging as I sank back against the headboard. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the image of Henry’s cold, mocking eyes. The way he’d watched, uncaring, as they dragged me away.

My fingers curled into the blanket. I’d run away once. Reinvented myself. Changed everything just to escape his betrayal. And I’d do it again if I had to.

No one was ever going to trap me like that again.

The morning air was cold against my skin, biting through the thin fabric of my towel as I stood in the tiny bathroom, water dripping from my body onto the cracked tiles. I reached for the faucet again, twisting it with all the frustration I felt, but not a single drop came out.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, glaring at the rusted showerhead as if it could hear me. I was still covered in soap, the lather clinging stubbornly to my skin. Of all the mornings for the water to cut off, it had to be today.

A shiver ran down my spine, goosebumps erupting on my arms. My teeth chattered as I grabbed my towel, rubbing the soap off with the rough, worn fabric. It scraped against my skin, making me hiss in discomfort, but it was better than stepping out half-lathered. I gritted my teeth, wiping down every inch of my body with as much speed and aggression as I could muster.

This was the last straw. I paid for water—grudgingly, but I paid. There was no reason it should run out halfway through my bath.

Once I was as dry as I was going to get, I tossed the towel onto the sink, the wet fabric making a heavy, squelching sound as it landed. I pulled on my clothes, the fabric sticking to my damp skin. I fought with the zipper on my skirt, cursing under my breath as it resisted before finally giving in with a harsh zip.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the cracked mirror above the sink. My hair was a tangled mess, frizzing from the steam and my poor attempt at drying off. Dark circles were smudged under my eyes, evidence of another sleepless night. I ran my fingers through my hair, wincing as they snagged on knots, then gave up with a defeated sigh. There was only so much one could do with bad water and worse luck.

I was still grumbling under my breath when I heard a knock at the door. I yanked it open to find my landlord standing there, his paunchy belly straining against his stained shirt. His eyes flicked over me, his lip curling slightly as if the sight of me was offensive.

“Water cut off while I was bathing,” I snapped before he could say anything. “I paid for water. So why the hell is it finishing?”

He scratched his chin, his thick fingers digging into the coarse stubble. “Probably the pipe work,” he said, his tone flat and uninterested. “You can get a plumber to check it out.”

I blinked at him, my irritation spiking. “I can get a plumber?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Aren’t you supposed to fix that? I’m paying you for water, not excuses.”

He shrugged, already turning to walk away. “Not my problem. You want water, get it fixed yourself.”

My hands balled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Are you serious right now? You’re just going to walk away?”

He didn’t even look back. His figure waddled down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing as he disappeared down the stairs.

I stared at the empty space where he’d been, my blood boiling. Of all the useless, lazy excuses for a landlord... If I had more time, I’d march right down and give him a piece of my mind, but I was already late. I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder, and slammed the door behind me. The old wood rattled on its hinges, the sound echoing through the narrow hall.

I made my way to work, my mood fouler than ever. The bus was crowded and I stood wedged between two men who seemed completely unaware of personal space, their elbows jabbing into my sides every time the bus lurched. By the time I reached the company, I was practically seething.

I stepped into the sleek, polished lobby, my heels clicking against the marble floor. Just as I turned the corner, I collided with a solid chest, stumbling back as I looked up into Logan’s cold, piercing eyes. He was surrounded by a group of men.

Logan’s gaze flicked over me, his expression indifferent. “Cleaner,” he said, his voice carrying just enough volume to make sure everyone heard. “You’re late.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I... I had an emergency,” I stammered, forcing myself to stand taller. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a cruel smile. “Emergency?” he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t like inefficiency. I’m paying you, aren’t I? I expect you to do your job properly.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “I understand. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” he said, his voice low and cold. “I don’t tolerate lateness. Especially from people like you. There aren’t a lot of job opportunities for your kind.”

The men around him chuckled, their laughter stabbing into me like knives. I could feel my face burning, tears threatening to blur my vision, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to nod. “Understood,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Logan’s eyes lingered on me for a moment, cold and calculating, before he turned back to his group, his attention shifting as if I’d never existed. I stood frozen, my heart pounding, shame curling in my stomach.

I turned away quickly, my head down as I hurried to the bathroom. I pushed the door open, letting it swing shut behind me as I leaned against the sink, my fingers gripping the cold porcelain. I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing myself to calm down.

His words echoed in my mind, cruel and condescending. People like you. As if I were beneath him. As if I was nothing.

I bit my lip, the familiar sting of humiliation threatening to swallow me whole. But I couldn’t let it get to me. I was here for a reason. I had bills to pay, a life to survive. Logan was just another obstacle, one of many I’d faced. I wouldn’t let him break me.

Once I’d pulled myself together, I stepped out of the bathroom and went about my day, cleaning offices and hallways, ignoring the looks from people who saw me as less than them. I scrubbed floors, wiped desks, emptied trash cans, all while pretending I didn’t hear the whispers, the dismissive remarks.

By the end of the day, my body ached, my hands raw from the cleaning solutions. I just wanted to go home, eat something, and forget about Logan’s words. I was almost at the door when a hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back.

I spun around, eyes widening as I found myself staring into Logan’s icy gaze. Before I could say a word, he pulled me into the storage room, the door slamming shut behind us.