Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 20: Vacation Desires.

DR. MARTINI

The room held a chilling atmosphere as I settled into my office, the air hanging with an icy bite. My breath formed small, frosty clouds as my fingers reached for the laptop, ready to dive into the day's tasks. Amidst the quiet, a gentle vibration from my phone hinted at an email awaiting my attention—a message from Lord Maximus of the Shaque.

Curiosity piqued, I tapped open the email to find an unexpected announcement: Lord Maximus was embarking on a vacation. A surprising deviation from the routine, indeed!

Upon learning of Lord Maximus's imminent departure, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions surged within me—a fleeting sense of relief entwined with a bitter undertone.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips, carried away by the stillness of the moment. I reconsidered my emotions; perhaps it was merely the ebb and flow of fleeting moods.

As the final vestiges of my menstrual cycle waned, I found myself mired in an ordinary desolation. Our connection bore no resemblance of significance, overshadowed by the relentless agony and intimidation he bestowed upon me.

Amidst this bleak reality, my thoughts turned to Zayn's fate, wondering about the sinister designs Lord Maximus had for his future. His penchant for wickedness knew no bounds—he not only held the power to preserve life but also wielded it, fueled by his inexhaustible wealth.

The tedious office atmosphere weighed heavily upon me, prompting me to abandon my seat and gravitate toward the television. Positioned nearby were two inviting cushions, and I settled onto one, arranging myself to face the screen, my back turned to the uneventful office surroundings.

With remote in hand, I aimed to power on the television set. However, an unexpected reflection caught my eye—a robust and enticing figure.

Intrigued, I turned to catch a full glimpse and found myself met with an unforeseen sight. It was as if the devil himself had manifested—Lord Maximus.

The scent of his cologne filled the air, a sophisticated blend of wood and musk.

He stood before me, arms folded, a fierce gaze fixed in my direction. Why hadn't he departed for his vacation yet? I wondered. His attire exuded elegance—a blazer hinting at a reptilian tattoo adorning his chest, paired with smart chinos.

Each step of his approaching loafers seemed to declare an ominous foreboding, sending a shiver down my spine.

Rising in deference, I moved closer to him. His access within the Shaque was unbounded, requiring no permissions or indicators of entry. In my office, I had no authority to question his presence or ingress.

"I hope he won't hurt me again this time. Could he just act nice for once?" I pondered silently. Bracing myself, I turned my face away, feigning indifference.

Suddenly, he loomed close, his breath, a blend of alcohol and cigarettes, grazing over my head. I shifted my gaze back, meeting his intense stare.

His proximity made me tremble, and as our eyes locked, his sculpted features left me questioning my own existence. How could a man be so strikingly beautiful yet so cruel?

He unfolded his arms and gently placed his hands on my forehead, his touch sending warmth through my cold body. I could feel the soft press of his warm lips against my skin.

Despite the conflicting emotions, I couldn't help but let out a smile. As he released my face, he took a step back and began to walk around me. In that moment, a mix of fear and anxiety started to creep in.

Suddenly, I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, his hands resting gently on my waist as he held me close. It was as if I had been cradled in the arms of a caring mother, a sense of comfort washing over me.

He leaned in close, his warm breath tickling my ear as he whispered, "Martini, you're damn hot." A shiver ran down my spine as his lips trailed down my neck, igniting a rush of adrenaline.

Was this real or just a dream? The butterflies in my stomach fluttered with excitement. The whisper continued, "You're coming with me."

My breath caught in my throat as my mind raced. I shook my head in disbelief, my hair brushing against his face. He turned to face me, his hands gripping my collarbone, shaking me gently. "You must do as I say, pack your bags."

I shook my head subtly but gathered the courage to refuse. "No, I won't," I asserted.

"Why?" His voice maintained an unsettling calm, a stark contrast to the tension-laden atmosphere.

I struggled to voice that I was amidst my menstrual cycle. The desire to accept his offer for the vacation lingered within, yet the haunting echoes of the past experience held me captive. The anguish, the discomfort, the marks left behind... I couldn't bear the notion of reliving the horror from last time.

Amidst my contemplation, a whirlwind of doubts overwhelmed my thoughts. What if this vacation transformed into another chapter of anguish? The prospect of enduring pain and discomfort again loomed over me. All I yearned for was an escape, a sanctuary free from the clutches of perpetual agony.

"QUESTION FOR MY READERS: Do you believe she would accept going on a vacation with Lord Maximus, despite the pain she endured last time?"