Taming the Ruthless

That Feeling

Chapter 3: That Feeling

I could feel his warm breath on my neck as I wrapped both my hands around him. The temptation to look at him wouldn’t leave me at all. At the same time, I worried I might be too heavy and cause him difficulty as he carried me. Yet not a single complaint escaped his lips, not even the faintest sign of strain. I dared not ask, either—that would be too risky. What if he suddenly let me go? I didn’t want to roll down the stairs and suffer more pain.

“Are you eating right? It’s like I’m f*cking carrying a piece of paper,” he whispered, just enough for me to hear.

I only nodded. I didn’t want to talk too much in case he got annoyed. This person is so insulting. Is it my fault that no matter how much I eat, I never gain weight? It’s not like food affects me the same way it does others.

In just a few steps, we were downstairs. He walked into the dining room and carefully seated me on a chair. My face burned with embarrassment as my nose brushed against his cheek. Thankfully, I closed my eyes quickly before he could read it as audacity and fill my head with bullets. Still, I could feel his hot breath searing against my skin.

“You closed your eyes quickly, so I’ll let this one slide. A miracle—you actually figured out how to avoid it. You kind of make me proud. Maybe next time, though, I’ll move faster,” he said with a trace of sarcasm, followed by a low chuckle.

Why does his laughter sound like music to my ears? What’s wrong with me? Aisha, wake up! That demon in front of you is ruthless!

“Mommy, do you want Daddy to slice your steak? He always does that, right?”

Cattleya’s voice cut through my thoughts. Before I could answer, she quickly switched my plate with his. In an instant, he had finished cutting the steak with precise, swift movements. Too fast. Was he really that skilled, or was I simply too distracted to notice?

What is he doing? I can never truly grasp what runs through his mind. One moment he’s obsessed with threatening to kill me, the next his expression softens, only to turn cold again as he points a gun—and then apologizes right after.

“Doesn’t Daddy still let you see his beautiful eyes, Mommy?” Ezekiel chimed in, laughing along with Cattleya as they turned to their father with mischievous grins.

I forced a smile. Did that mean even their real mother never saw his face? That no one had ever looked into his eyes—except his children? He was strange, too strange. And they noticed, of course, how I carefully avoided their father’s gaze. But how could I explain it? No matter what tricks I tried, the temptation to look at him was overwhelming. My knees weakened, my resolve dulled, and my will felt like it was dying every time I fought the urge.

“I will allow your mother to see my face and my eyes,” he suddenly said, his tone playful, “if she will allow herself to be confined to my arms and my life forever. You know I can’t refuse your wishes—especially your mother’s. My love, I’ll remove this mask now so you can see the face of your most handsome husband. Just agree to my terms, and I’ll be yours.”

He was teasing me, baiting me. I wasn’t a fool. He was too smart, too sharp, too manipulative. He was rough, dangerous… but still, I couldn’t deny that temptation tugged at me, pulling me toward the risk. He knew exactly how to play with my mind. Aggressive. Playful. Ruthless.

I smiled faintly and answered, “Your father is the risk I will take again and again. But I have not seen or felt that I deserve to see his face yet. I am not worthy. A little patience, and perhaps I can accommodate your father’s request. You can still wait, can’t you, my love?”

My tone was playful. Did he really think I didn’t know how to throw fire back at him? He wasn’t the only one who knew how to play games. Arrogant as he was, I wouldn’t simply yield. I would match him. I believed his promise that he wouldn’t hurt me, even if my answers provoked him.

For once, he fell silent. He didn’t reply, only looked at me. I wanted to laugh at his silence, but instead I simply focused on the meal, enjoying the taste of the steak.

Then the air shifted. Lucas entered the room and leaned toward him. The conversation was brief, but serious enough that his expression darkened instantly. A shadow hung over his face.

“I’ll be the one to carry you back up,” he said, standing. His voice was cold, but I caught the vibration beneath it—the restrained anger he was holding back. “I want you to wait for me. I’ll be right back. Just wait. I’ll hurry so you don’t get bored. Enjoy your meal. If you want more, don’t hesitate to ask someone.”

And then the door closed behind him.

I sat there frozen, unable to utter the words that screamed in my mind: Be careful. I wanted to call after him, to tell him, to beg him. But nothing came out. My heart only ached with unease, praying silently for him to return unharmed.

After dinner, Ezekiel and Cattleya went upstairs first because they still had homework to do with Kierra, while I remained in the chair, waiting for him to come home or return. I did everything I could to dispel the boredom and drowsiness of waiting. I sang songs, even though I was only repeating the same one. I played with my fingers. I counted the number of paintings in the dining room. I stared at the clock to see how fast the seconds were running. I even tried counting numbers, but I only reached a million before realizing he was still gone. So I started all over again.

9 pm.

10 pm.

10:30 pm.

11 pm.

Drowsiness began drowning my whole system. I yawned and glanced at the clock again. I had to wait, but my body couldn’t endure it anymore. My head almost hit the table, but instead of the cold hard glass, I felt a quick, warm hand catch me. Even though my eyes were closed in sleepiness, my mind was still faintly awake. I couldn’t open them, but I knew—I was floating. No, not floating… he was carrying me in his arms.

"I told you to wait for me. You did. But I didn’t expect you would fall asleep. Thank you for waiting for me… and thank you for obeying me."

I felt the joy in his voice as he spoke those words. No matter how I tried, my eyes refused to open.

I felt the softness of the bed as he laid me down. He tucked the blanket around me. I was almost fully asleep when something soft brushed my forehead. I froze, wide awake now, but I didn’t dare open my eyes. That gentle touch—like a spell—it woke my spirit more than my body.

"Goodnight, Aisha," he whispered softly.

It was as if, for the first time, I heard his real voice—stripped of all games, sarcasm, anger, or threats. Nothing but raw sincerity. It echoed in my ears and replayed endlessly in my mind.

My heart raced uncontrollably. After he closed the door, I immediately opened my eyes. The room was dim, only the lampshade beside the bed giving a faint light. I touched my chest, but my heartbeat refused to calm. His words and actions had left me shaken, restless. Why are you doing this to me? Why are you confusing me?

The lampshade suddenly flicked off, and the door opened, then shut quickly. I knew it was him. Who else could it be? My heart wouldn’t beat this way for anyone else. He was the only one who could confuse me so completely, body and soul.

He approached swiftly and claimed my lips. I gasped at the shock of it, but his kiss deepened. He bit my lip gently, then let his tongue tangle with mine. His hand cradled my head as he sucked my tongue, pulling me into him. His lips moved down to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. I moaned, unable to contain it. Heat spread through me, overwhelming, consuming. My mind told me to resist, but my body betrayed me.

"Aisha…" he groaned my name, heavy with restraint.

He unbuttoned my shirt, revealing the thin barrier of my brassiere. His lips trailed down my collarbone, his hands wandering over my body. Every kiss burned against my skin, filling me with a strange, electric sensation. He reached for the clasp of my brassiere—but suddenly stopped. His breathing was ragged, and I felt his stare piercing through the darkness. Then, he cursed under his breath.

Shame rushed through me, and I pulled the blanket over myself, hiding my body even though he had already seen enough. I couldn’t believe I had allowed myself to be swept up by temptation. He was temptation incarnate.

"I’m sorry, Aisha. F*ck! I’m so sorry. I know I was too aggressive, but I tried—I swear I tried—to fight it. Baby, your lips… they’re too seductive. I can’t resist you. Forgive me. The restraint I’ve had to use—it’s been killing me. You’re too beautiful, too perfect. F*ck, I screwed up. Don’t be mad at me, baby, please."

His forehead pressed against mine, his hands gently cupping my face. His voice carried regret, guilt, self-blame. He tugged at his own hair in frustration.

"Why do you apologize if you own me? Everything you want, you can do with me. You don’t even have to ask my permission, because I am yours. Don’t apologize, because you have the right."

My voice trembled as I said it—not to provoke him, but to remind him. I belonged to him. Whatever he chose to do, even if it went against my will, I had no power to refuse. So he shouldn’t worry.

A cold, heavy object slammed into my palm. What will he make me do? N–not possible. Did he want me to shoot him, like he once told me, in case he ever hurt me?

“Do the appropriate punishment to me, Aisha. I was wrong. I don’t have a word. I was so carried away by temptation. Consume the bullet of that gun—that’s enough to end the life of someone like me,” he said toughly.

My will quickly protested, as if it had its own mind and feelings, full of intense disagreement. I swallowed as I held his gun in my hand. Why was it so easy for him to say such a thing? As if he were just giving me an easy order—like letting me kill a vile mosquito.

“There is nothing wrong with claiming your property. Who am I to protest when I have no right? Don’t blame yourself just because of that. You have not broken your law. I was not hurt, injured, or beaten,” I comforted him, so that he would not feel remorse for what he had done. First of all, there really wasn’t.

He touched my chin and kissed my forehead with a sweet kiss. A kiss full of respect… a kiss that seemed full of love.

Why are you making me feel this way? Why do you care about me? Why… why are you doing this to me? I want clarity—extreme clarity. Can you give that to me?

“I respect and honor you. I don’t want you to feel rude in the way I treat and care for you. You are not just any kind of girl, Aisha… You’re my moon. I hope… I hope you can wait for the time when I can be complacent enough to show myself to you. You’re deserving, Aisha. Just wait for me. You were wrong when you said you weren’t worthy. I’m the one with the problem. I hope that by the time I’m ready, you’re still here beside me—because you’ll be the first one to see me face the world without depending on this mask anymore.”

What he said was very touching. Too good to hear. Too deep in meaning, but my heart understood. Too sweet… even dangerous. And yet, I was willing to face the danger, as long as he was with me.

“Expect me to still be here next to you. And I’ll be the happiest person for you. I will never get tired of thanking you for saving me. You are the risk—the risk that I’m willing to take. I’ll wait for you,” I assured him.

I felt him hug me tightly, his breath warm against my ear. This was one of the sweetest scenes to witness at this time.

“I am Augustus. Augustus Dalton, baby. And knowing my name won’t cost a single drop of your blood, so don’t you worry.”

Did he just tell me his name?

He kissed my cheek and lay down on my bed, holding my hand.

“You can call me Gus, or Baby. What do you think? But I guess the second option is quite awesome—and I kinda like it.”

I couldn’t help but smile at what he said. Tenderly dangerous—that’s him, if you try to define him in words. I must hate you. I should stay away from you. I shouldn’t even be talking to you like this. You shouldn’t treat me like this.

Like they say, I could be the igniter of your defeat… or your death.

But I don’t care what they say. I’m falling too fast, Augustus. Too fast. With your simple words, your tenderness, even your threats. All of that makes my heart beat so fast. No matter what kind of words you mention, I always end up losing my sanity.

I smiled at him, then lay down beside him.

“I would prefer to call you Gus. Besides, Ezekiel and Cattleya are my babies,” I said.

He kissed my hand softly. Even though it was dark, I could sense his smile.

There was nothing funny in what I said—so why was he smiling like that?

“I don’t expect you to be good to my children. Thank you for loving and understanding them as your own,” he said, full of respect and admiration.

“I’m close to the kids, Gus. It’s hard for me to be mean or even scare them. Another thing is that I have no rights, and I see no reason to treat them rudely. Children should be loved, cared for, protected, and made proud. All of that I never experienced with my father, Gus. So it hurts me to think of treating your children the same way I was treated. I love them too. I don’t care if they come from me or not. Family doesn’t require blood—it requires love.”

I admitted to myself: I was getting comfortable with Gus. He was not difficult to understand because he was genuinely kind. Yes, he was a mafia boss, cold-hearted… but that cold heart had hidden kindness and an incomparable soul.

“The moon reminds me of you, Aisha. So beautiful. So bright. So far away. But I’m willing to do what it takes to reach you, no matter how long it takes. Because I’m your sun—and I’m willing to sacrifice my own light just to let you breathe.”

I wanted to stop him from melting me. His words were overwhelming. It was like he was writing a novel and knew exactly how to capture the heart of his reader.

I wanted to rise, to resist, to survive. But it didn’t matter. His words pulled me closer, into his arms. I wanted to stop him, but I couldn’t think of the words to do so. I didn’t dare to move. Even just saying his name made my heart react immediately.

Now tell me—how can I escape, when he pulls me back so effortlessly?

Before I could say anything, he whispered—

“There are a billion smiles in the world, baby. So why is yours the only one that sets my heart on fire?”