The Silence | ✔️

14. V

"Arian? I'm home."

That was the end of it. The end of the ease that I felt. The end of the minor lift of anxiety. Aside from Desmond kicking our bathroom door off it's hinges, being drugged in a nightclub and my boss committing suicide, the weekend had been. . . nice.

There was a lot about it that was more fucked up than I could comprehend. But I'd felt somewhat relaxed when I was able to walk around the apartment with out the fear of doing something wrong and being beaten for it.

I had a shift at four. I was dressed, doing my hair in the bathroom when Desmond rounded the corner and leaned against the door frame. His usual pale skin had a hint of red, like he'd seen the sun. That was interesting considering he was meant to be in business meetings all weekend. "Where's the door?" He questioned with an amused smile.

There was nothing amusing about it. Just the fact that he even asked me what happened with so much oblivion made me furious. I bit down on the inside of my cheek and took a deep breath. "A builder came to do measurements and fittings this morning. He's bringing it tomorrow."

"How old was he?"

I stared at him with confusion. "I don't know, what does that matter?"

"Well I don't want some cocky apprentice fitting the door when he doesn't know what he's doing."

The fact that I could have put the fucking door on its hinges if I had the tools was something that I wanted to point out. It was on the tip of my tongue. But I swallowed the remark and shrugged. "He was in his fifties, perhaps. I dunno. Maybe older."

I finished tying my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head and grabbed my mascara, leaning with my hips against the basin so that I could get close to the mirror. Desmond made no more comments about the builder. I suspected that the issue was more in the fact that I would have been here alone with a man. Not because he was worried about the damn door being fitted.

He straightened up and moved further into the bathroom. "I'm going to shower. Can you do me a favour and bring back some of those sugared donuts that the restaurant does?"

"Sure."

He walked past me and slapped my ass so hard that the sound echoed through the bathroom. I winced and frowned at the mascara smear above my brow. "Looking hot babe," he drawled as he began pulling his clothes off.

I hated it when he did that to me. It felt disgusting and possessive. There was just something about the attempt at being hot with aggressive behaviour that he couldn't pull off. But then again, in my eyes, he barely passed for a human being. It made me shudder and I quickly cleaned up the mascara smudge and finished coating my lashes while he climbed into the shower.

When I wandered into our bedroom, I noticed his cell sitting on the top of his over night duffle that he'd left on the bed. I was sure that I knew what he had been doing this weekend. But the need to snoop got the best of me. I wanted to be sure.

Unsurprisingly, there was a passcode on his phone. I was afraid to guess it because if it locked him out, then he would know that I was snooping. I listened to the sound of the shower with a thumping heart while I went over the possible passcodes that he could have used. I had enough time between him switching off the shower and coming out here before he could catch me. But I was still on edge, glancing towards the bathroom entrance every two seconds.

I tried his birthday first. Nope.

Then I tried the digits to our mailbox. Nope.

Then I tried his bank card pin and the phone unlocked.