Past Midnight
1110 Words
ARABELLA
I open my eyes to a bright light.
For a moment, I don't know where I am. The ceiling is the same. The walls are the same. But there was only one dim bulb in the room before.
I struggle to keep my eyes open. The light in the room is so bright, making my eyes ache.
I sit up immediately, my hand shielding my eyes.
I see Maximillian sitting on the chair in the corner. One of his legs crossed over the other, his arms folded to his chest. He just sits there watching me.
Behind him, a lamp is on the floor. The cord runs across the room to the wall outlet. He installed it while I slept, I guess.
"What are you doing here?" My voice comes out rough from sleep.
He doesn't move. "We need to talk."
I glance at the window. Black. No light.
"It's the middle of the night."
"Past midnight, actually," he tells me.
"Then it can wait until morning." I pull the blanket up to my chest. "Can't you see I'm sleeping?"
He looks at his watch. Taps the face once. Twice.
"Can't wait."
I open my mouth to argue.
"We can play around for a bit," he says, cutting me off. "That would help wake you up."
I freeze.
Play around a bit.
I don't know what he means by that but I'm not sure I want to find out.
The way he says it so low and slow makes my skin prickle. Makes my breath stop in my throat.
I clear my throat. Push the blanket down. Sit up straighter.
"What do you want?"
He smirks. He knows what he is doing.
"You will leave for Spain in fifty-six hours."
My stomach tightens. Sofia told me this already. But hearing it from him, reality dawns on me that it's real—she wasn't trying to scare me.
"You'll be meeting a few of your father's allies there. About three of them. They run his European operations."
I find my voice after a few minutes. "I don't want to. Besides, I don't know anything about my father's business."
"You'll learn on the job." His voice is empty. "You'll monitor them. Understand the business. Get the information I need."
"Maximillian, I don't know how I would pull this off. I don't know anyone in Spain. What you're saying…" I stop to breathe. "You're saying I should do something my parents wouldn't like."
He tilts his head. Studying my face.
"You care what your parents think?" He laughs softly. "And you ran away from home. I don't believe it."
I bite my lip. "My dad will never forgive me."
The words come out lower than I intended.
I slide off the bed. My knees hit the floor before I can stop myself.
"Get the information you need through someone else," I whisper. "Please. I'll do anything else. Just—not this. Not betraying my family."
He just looks at me with those blue eyes of his, not saying anything.
Then he leaves the chair.
He squats in front of me. Too close. His face level with mine. His hand comes up. His finger traces my cheek. My jaw. My chin.
I close my eyes tight.
I'm frustrated with this behavior of his.
His finger moves lower.
Down my neck. Across my collarbone. Slow circles on my chest. Through the thin fabric of my shirt. Just on top of my breast.
I struggle to breathe.
Then his finger finds my n****e.
My mouth opens. A small sound escapes. Betraying my mind.
He's doing it again. Making me lose control. Making my body obey every command.
"Stop." My voice cracks. "Stop."
He ignores me.
He leans down. His lips find my n****e through the fabric. He bites gently. Just enough to set my whole body on fire.
My back arches. My hands grip the floor. I can't breathe. I can't think.
How does he know?
How does he know this is my weak spot? How does he know exactly where to touch, where to bite, where to push?
He lifts his head. His lips move to my neck. His breath is warm against my skin.
"If you manage to pull this off," he says against my throat, "I might let you see Liam."
My eyes snap open.
He says the name differently. An accent I don't recognize. Almost mocking.
"Who knows." His lips brush my skin. "Maybe you won't have to break up with him."
Liam.
His face flashes in my mind. His smile. His laugh. The way he would hold me and say my name.
"I don't—" I start.
He bites my neck. It's small but sharp.
"You don't want to keep your little boyfriend waiting, do you?"
"Fine." The word rushes out of my mouth. "Fine. Just—just stop touching me."
He pulls back. Looks at my face.
Then he leans in again. His lips press against my eyelids. First one. Then the other.
"I bet you don't want me to stop."
I breathe hard. My skin feels hot where his fingers were.
I hate him.
I should hate him.
But when his fingers are on my skin, when his lips find that spot on my neck, I lose all my sense. All control that I thought I had.
It's like I'm under a spell.
His spell.
He stands. Looks down at me. I'm still on my knees. Still trying to remember that I am supposed to hate him.
"That's more like it," he says. "Sofia will take you shopping for clothes at eight."
My eyes light up.
Shopping. Outside. A chance to run off.
I could knock Sofia out. Run. Find help.
He laughs softly. He's been doing it a lot lately.
"With a few guards, Ara." He shakes his head. "Don't formulate nonsense in your brain."
My shoulders drop.
He sees through me. He always sees through me.
He turns toward the door. Steps out.
Leaving me with the lamp.
I hear his footsteps go down the hallway.
And I'm alone. Still on my knees. The sensation of his mouth still on my skin. My mind still not believing I let him touch me again.
I crawl back into the bed. Pull the blanket over me. Press my hands to my chest—feeling every place he touched.
I hate him.
Although I don't know if it's true anymore.
I close my eyes.
His lips on my eyelids. His fingers on my skin. His voice in my ear.
I bet you don't want me to stop.
He's right.
No. He is wrong.
Either way, I am doomed.
- Writer
