His Contract Wife (Zayn Malik)

12; Fights and Flirtings

~Mira~

"I want you, Mira. I gave you the fucking job and went behind you because I wanted you. Since the day, I saw you sitting all nervous in front of my damned office room, alright?"

I blink my eyes. It shouldn't hurt but crazy enough, it did. "So all this for a fuck?

He sighs, "Mira..."

"What did I even expect of you, Zayn. Of course, you did all this for a fuck. Somewhere, in the back of mind, I knew the reason has got to be something like this. I was in denial, I guess. Fuck you, bastard," I spit. "I'm not a fucking prostitute."

"Mira, It did start along the lines of me wanting you since, I laid eyes on you but... " he trails off, leaving me to stare at him with no emotion.

"But you just happened to find out that I wasn't just all about being a fit body? I get it, totally," I snap. "Wow, I feel like a whore now, even though, none of this is my fault."

"Mira, the job still stands as evidence for your talent and intelligence," he tries to convince me and I wince.

I chuckle, dryly. "Now, I'm not so sure, Zayn. For once, I thought- I thought, this was something I got because of how qualified, I am. I didn't know, getting a job means to have a convincing body," I whisper.

"Mira, stop doing this to yourself," he says, his voice pleading.

"I'm a fucking idiot. I should've known better than to let myself enjoy a fucking kiss from a man like you. You're the Zayn Malik. Of course, you had intentions behind every action of yours. I was just too oblivious. Maybe, I'm not as intelligent as you give me credit for, Zayn," I seethe.

It's all like, I'm hit suddenly by a ton of bricks. Even, when I know Zayn is perfectly capable of doing this, I still don't want to believe it. I don't know where this stupid hope for him is from, but I want to dig a hole and crawl into it for hoping, anyway. I had actually started seeing him as a good acquaintance, with benefits, of course.

We stand a few feet apart, just blankly staring at each other. Anger is radiating off my body and there is a subtle hint of apology and guilt in Zayn's honey eyes. Suddenly as if I'm the north pole of the magnet, that's us and Zayn's the south, he pushes me against the walls, capturing my lips with his own. I struggle, being sandwiched between the wooden walls and Zayn's carved torso, my moans from him slaughtering my mouth with his own, appear as grunts. I fist my palms and try pushing him away, making sure to slap his chest, repeatedly. Zayn finally pulls away due to the lack of response in the way that favours him. When I finally collect my breath after the struggle I put up with his firm body, I flung my palm flat against his cheek, making the sound of my action echo through my old, tarnished flat. Zayn's hand cups his cheek by reflex, a small hiss escaping his mouth. I continue standing there, glaring at him, my rage, disappointment, hurt all coursing through at once.

"Don't kiss me," I sneer at him. "Don't you fucking dare."

"Don't act like you have no part in what we both are doing, Mira. If you don't know already, it takes two to tango, darling. Forget the fact that I wanted you. What about you? You want me as much as I want you and don't you fucking dare try to deny it. Don't forget that you used a sexual act to punish me," He scolds.

I look away in embarrassment because that hit a nerve. A much as I am angry, he is right, Even if I want to throw the blame on him and call him out for manipulating me, I let myself fall into his trap. If he is to be blamed then so am I. I had kissed him back, every time he had kissed me. I let him kiss me, whenever. It's fucked up because, in spite of knowing better than to let myself involved with a man like Zayn, I had gone through with it. He had wanted me and had done it the only way he had known how. It was to give me a job, keep me close and then slowly making me fall into his bloody fucking trap. And as for me, I had gone along with whatever and it only means that I wanted him as well.