THOSE EYES; FAMILIAR
963 Words
RAFAEL
I stepped into the small, sterile holding room and the sight that greeted me made me stop dead for half a second.
Her.
Isabella Reyes, my frumpy, scarf-wearing, braces-and-glasses assistant, was sitting on the dirty floor with her knees pulled to her chest, crying silently. Her cheek was already bruising from a slap. The ridiculous scarf had slipped again, showing off those dark hickeys I’d noticed earlier.
I hadn’t expected her.
I closed the door behind me with a soft click and began circling her slowly, my expensive shoes echoing in the tiny space. A heavy sigh of pure frustration escaped me.
“Today of all f*****g days,” I muttered. “You’ve been acting strange since morning, Reyes. Late, nervous, avoiding eye contact. And now I find out you’re the one who tried to use my black card?”
She looked up at me through tear-soaked lashes and those thick, ugly glasses, trembling violently.
“I didn’t steal it, Mr. Voss,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I swear I didn’t.”
I stopped in front of her. My temper, already razor-sharp from the long day, flared hotter.
“How did you get my card, then?” I asked, voice dangerously low.
She shook her head frantically, more tears spilling.
“Please… I didn’t steal it.”
My voice rose sharply.
“How the f**k did you get it, Reyes?!”
She jumped hard at my tone, a broken sob escaping her.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I never stole anything from you. Please believe me.”
The sight of her cowering on the floor, combined with the marks on her neck from another man, twisted something ugly inside me. I crouched down, grabbed her by the throat over the scarf, and squeezed. Not enough to crush, but enough to cut off her air. I yanked her up forcefully until she was on her feet, back pressed against the wall.
There was nothing in my eyes. No soul, no mercy. I’d killed my own father when I was seventeen. Some pathetic, crying assistant meant even less if she’d betrayed me.
“Confess,” I growled, tightening my grip. “Tell me how you got the card or I swear I’ll end you right here.”
Isabella choked, her hands weakly clutching my wrist. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks as she struggled for air, mouth opening and closing desperately. Her eyes, wide, terrified, and glassy behind those glasses locked onto mine.
And something hit me like a freight train.
Those eyes. That exact look of fear mixed with desperate surrender, silently begging me while her body trembled in my grip. It was hauntingly familiar. It felt like Bella. The same storm of vulnerability and heat I’d seen all weekend when I had her cuffed and choking on my c**k.
My d**k twitched hard in my slacks, I released her instantly, like she’d burned me.
Isabella collapsed to her knees, coughing violently, gasping for air. She clutched her throat, looking up at me with pure terror and something else I couldn’t name.
I stared at her for a long, heavy silence. My chest felt tight, and my c**k was half-hard. This mousy little assistant was doing dangerous things to my head.
Without another word, I turned towards the door.
“Go home, Reyes,” I said coldly over my shoulder.
I was almost out when I heard them, her three colleagues laughing loudly just outside the holding area.
“…did you see her face when I slapped her? Pathetic,” Megan sneered.
Tyler laughed.
“Ugly Betty thinking she can shop here. With that body and those braces? No man would touch her. Especially not Mr. Voss.”
Sarah’s voice dripped with arrogance and lust.
“God, Mr. Voss is so f*****g hot. I’d let him destroy me on his desk any day. Rip my clothes off, choke me, whatever he wants. Unlike that disgusting frump.”
Rage, dark and volcanic, surged through me.
I stepped out, Isabella trailing hesitantly behind me. The moment the three saw me, their faces went bone-white.
“M-Mr. Voss—” Sarah stammered, “We were just—”
I ignored them and turned to the store manager, voice ice-cold.
“Give her everything she wants. Clothes, shoes, bags, whatever she picks. Put it all on my tab. No limit.”
The entire store gasped.
Tyler stepped forward stupidly.
“But sir, she stole your card—”
I turned on him with pure Reaper venom.
“I gave her the f*****g card,” I roared. “Touch her again and I’ll make sure none of you ever work in this city again.”
Isabella gasped softly behind me, clearly shocked.
I gave her one last long look; bruised cheek, tear-streaked face, those familiar eyes, then walked out without another word.
***
The second I slid into the back of the Maybach, my phone rang.
“Boss,” Marco said, voice tight. “We’ve got a problem. The Iron Fangs grabbed one of our guys.”
I shut my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Who?”
“Damien Cross.”
I let out a low, dangerous laugh. Of course it was him. The loose cannon I’d been planning to cut loose anyway.
“He won’t talk,” I said flatly. “But make sure. Send a message if you have to. I want him back breathing… or in pieces. Your choice.”
The day had started with me f*****g a beautiful woman senseless and ended with me nearly choking my frumpy assistant in a boutique holding room… all while the same woman’s eyes haunted me.
Something was very wrong here, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.
- Writer
