Housewife

For three long days I’ve been dodging his footsteps, evading his presence.

It’s no secret that his effect on me is unsettling. Every time I’m around him, it’s like a storm brewing inside of me. My heart races faster than a race car, and my senses are heightened as if I’m on high alert.

The way he revels in my discomfort makes me sick to my stomach.

Goosebumps trickled across my skin, my breath escaping my lungs in quick gasps; it’s all too much. There’s no denying his allure is potent, but it’s one that I’d rather do without.

So I’ve been keeping a careful distance from Saint, at all costs.

Taking our seats at the breakfast table felt like an ordeal. With couples all around us, celebrating their cherished honeymoon, my anxiety went into overdrive. My plate was sparse with just an apple, pomegranate seeds, and a few pineapple slices. I simply couldn’t stomach anything heavy. On the other hand, Saint’s plate was piled high with an array of decadent pastries, strawberries, and a strong cup of black coffee. Just like his soul.

In my time spent with Saint, this is the closest we’ve been. As bedtime approaches, we part ways – me settling for the couch while the master becomes his sanctuary. On the initial night, I caught him eyeing my separate sleeping arrangements but to my relief, he didn’t utter a word.

Now, on our third day, Saint and I are required to grace an evening party with our presence. Despite my desire to veer away, it’s a honeymoon tradition that we must abide by.

Mid-bite into an apple, a sudden ring pierces through the air, capturing both of our attention. Saint suspends his coffee cup in hand as he takes out his phone, casting a swift glimpse in my direction before answering the call that will transport him to his own world.

‘Did I not advise you to refrain from disturbing us during our honeymoon?’ The way his voice melts into his mother tongue language is nothing short of mesmerizing. The sound caresses my very being, each syllable a sweet kiss to my nerves. Although I couldn’t understand a word that he was saying, it was a true blessing to my ears.

But, I must resist the pull of Saint’s enchanting voice.

I must admit, though, that when he speaks fluent French, it’s as if he emanates a majestic aura.

Whilst his attention is still on the conversation in front of him, I try to focus on my plate, yet my ears remain attuned to his soothing voice. As the silence envelopes us, I take a bite of my apple and, daring to glance up, I catch Saint’s gaze upon me.

‘She’s with me, munching on an apple,’ he nonchalantly remarks in English to ensure I comprehend his words. I nervously flick my tongue across my lips, eyeing the fruit in his grasp as I take a bite and place it back on the plate.

As Saint raises his mini coffee mug, his eyes seem to penetrate my very soul, reading my emotions like an open book littered with unresolved enigmas.

At this very moment, I’m torn on which route to take with my sentiments for Saint. Option one: I yearn to snuff out his existence. Alternatively, option two: I crave unspeakable acts to be committed upon me by him.

Despite his rudeness, there’s a magnetic pull that’s hard to deny. He’s like a puzzle with missing pieces and I can’t help but want to solve it. The mere thought of him gives me goosebumps of both fear and fascination.

As he hangs up the phone, I see a glint in his eye that makes me wonder what sinister business he’s involved in. I yearn to know more, but his warning to wait an hour before contacting him leaves me with an itch that’s hard to scratch.

My tongue itches to ask whose call he fielded, but I resist. I’ll bide my time, playing his game until he’s ready to reveal his secrets.

‘Irena, you can’t continue to ignore me,’ his words erupt like a volcano and snap me out of my daydream. I almost snap back at him with a venomous reply, but instead, I recede into my chair and mindlessly pluck at pomegranate seeds.

‘You can fight it all you want, but you and I both know it’s futile,’ he continues. His tone is like a matchstick to a gasoline trail, intentionally stroking my already rising fury.

He wants to watch as I unravel and unleash my inner darkness.

Saint has mastered the art of pushing every one of my buttons. He’s playing with fire, hoping to witness the resulting chaos and destruction.

I slide my chair back and rise up, fixing the imaginary creases on my white slender-strapped dress. I sashay out of the door, leaving him behind to bear the tedium.

Once again, I get that familiar feeling that all eyes are on me.

As I rummage through my closet, my eyes struggle to find the perfect attire for this ostentatious honeymoon soirée. The pressure of looking the part gnaws at me as I discard dress after dress, each one either baring too much or not enough. A sigh escapes my lips as my fingers finally caress a black, lace dress – the kind that screams sultry sophistication, with its al uring backless design and skin-baring noodle straps.

A wicked smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I admired the material.

With a determined shrug, I slip into the dress, loving the way it hugs my curves as I twirl before the mirror.

As I delicately sweep the mascara wand along my lashes, a familiar sound echoes into the room. Soft footsteps. I toss the tube back into my makeup bag and turn to find Saint standing in the doorway, his smouldering gaze fixed on me.

‘Are you really going to wear that dress?’ he challenges, his voice oozing with disapproval.

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I stare at his reflection in the mirror, my curly locks falling across my shoulders. ‘Is it a problem?’ I retort, bracing myself for his inevitable objection.

Approaching me with purpose, he took confident strides until he was standing right there in front of me. I could smell the rugged, woodsy scent of his cologne and found myself hypnotized by his piercing green eyes. I stood there, frozen and unable to look away.

He towered over me, seemingly massive and muscular, while I felt small and feeble in comparison. The way he leaned in dangerously close made my hairs stand on end, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.

‘I want you to wear it,’ he breathed into my ear, his voice low and dripping with desire. ‘So that everyone can know that you belong to me and I’m the one who’s fucking you.’

My face flushed a deep shade of red as I struggled to find my voice. But before I knew what was happening, my hand shot up and slapped him hard across the face, causing his head to jerk to the side.

My fury burned hotter than ever as I realized the depth of his arrogance and the sheer audacity of his words.

‘If you dare to downgrade me again, better be ready to keep one eye open when you sleep,’ I snarled. His eyes locked with mine, gleaming with intense desire and danger.

The atmosphere between us was electric, charged with an almost palpable tension. I could feel myself about to snap, and the brittle silence between us seemed ready to break the moment one of us made a move.

It might sound insane, but the way Saint looked at me made me feel like his gaze was a tangible touch. And as much as I hated to admit it, there was a part of me that craved that touch.

But as soon as that realization hit me, I felt a chill crawl up my spine. This was not who I wanted to be, and definitely not what I wanted to feel towards a man like Saint.

I cleared my throat, brushing past him as fiercely as I could muster. I needed to distance myself from him, for my own sake.

As I left the room, the barest thought of being with Saint in that way was enough to set my bones on fire. I couldn’t deny the thrill that came with his condescending tone, and that scared me.

What was happening to me?

As I wander into uncharted territory, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. There’s a part of me that’s been locked away for far too long, but now it’s clawing its way to the surface. Saint seems to be the key to unlocking those hidden desires, those taboo cravings that I’ve never dared to explore.

It’s unnerving, this discovery of my darker side, but also electrifying. Every moment with him feels like a dance of dominance and submission, like a battle of wills. And the more we spar, the more I feel the power slipping from my grasp.

But I refuse to go down without a fight. I won’t let Saint break me, won’t let him consume me.

I gazed upward at the tranquil yet dynamic panorama that had painted itself across the sky. Bands of peachy pink and vibrant orange flowed together like a masterpiece of artistry. The descending sun cast its radiant countenance onto the blue waters below, creating a mirrored effect that was truly mesmerizing.

The room was a symphony of sound, with music and lively conversation weaving together like waves on a beach. Some surrendered to the rhythm, while others remained lost in thought.

The scent of tantalizing grilled meat and zesty spices filled my nostrils, igniting my taste buds with anticipation. From the on-site kitchen wafted a sizzling fusion of tantalizing flavours, making its way to the club’s interior and exterior tables. The eclectic design of the restaurant was elegantly enhanced by the soft light of lava lamps, which had been thoughtfully placed on each table, snuggled amidst rose petals scattered delicately across the rustic, wooden floorboards.

The crispness of my martini tantalized my taste buds as I savoured the refreshing concoction. The breeze lightly grazed my skin, as I stood at the cusp of the plank pier. Beneath me, the water shimmered with a magical luminance.

Although I entertained the thought of flinging myself into the depths of the ocean, ultimately, I chose to abstain. Instead, I lingered, envisioning myself sinking with the sunset, a chilling spectacle for the couple celebrating their nuptials nearby.

There sits Saint, directly opposite the dork, and his penetrating gaze is burning a hole through my back. Since arriving at this godforsaken place, I’ve drowned myself in one drink after the next – but who’s counting anymore? I refuse to sit next to Saint while this tension hangs in the air, so I keep my distance, even though our waiter can sense the unease. Her sympathetic glances accompany each new round of drinks, as Saint taps away on his phone, chatting it up with God knows who – probably my nosy uncles, complaining about my lousy company, sour attitude, or obnoxious wisecracks. But really, who cares?

As much as I wished for this honeymoon to end, I couldn’t escape the fact that I was bound to face Saint every day from now on.

Caught in the mesmerizing grip of the sunset, I’m abruptly drawn back to reality as a stranger materializes beside me. Glancing to the side, I take in the sight of his olive-toned complexion shimmering in the fading light of the day. Straight locks sweep tidily across his forehead while his lithe body strains against his snug white t-shirt and jeans. Though his presence startles me, I quickly avert my gaze back to the hypnotic horizon.

Suddenly, his voice interrupts the peaceful hush. ‘You’ve been standing here all alone for quite some time,’ he observes. It’s then that I realize a full half-hour has passed since I first arrived and kept my distance from Saint.

As I take a leisurely sip of my drink, I shoot him a sly grin. ‘I must say, it sounds like you’ve been keeping tabs on me like a secret admirer,’ I tease, taking in the stunning view from our spot on the balcony. He lets out a soft chuckle, like a lul aby whispered in my ear. ‘I suppose you could put it that way,’ he admits with a smirk.

My eyes flicker over to him, my suspicion growing. ‘Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but isn’t tonight reserved for newlywed couples?’ I ask, quirking an eyebrow. ‘Where’s your lovely wife?’ His warm brown eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I’m lost in his irresistible gaze. ‘We had a bit of a misunderstanding,’ he explains nonchalantly.

My arms fold tightly across my chest as I pivot to face him. ‘So instead of fixing things with your wife, you decided to chat up a stranger? A woman, no less?’ I retort, my lips curling into a playful smirk. He raises a brow, clearly undaunted by my forwardness. ‘Well, when you put it like that…’

Suddenly changing the subject, he looks off into the distance. ‘What about you? Where’s your husband?’ I pause for a moment, considering his question.

As I turned my gaze, my eyes landed on a chair where Saint should have been seated, but it was empty. Inhaling deeply, I shifted my attention towards a stranger who was eyeing me curiously. ‘Busy,’ I retorted nonchalantly, sipping my drink.

The man ran his hand through his tousled hair, and a tiny grin played on his lips as he spoke. ‘Looks like we’ve both been abandoned by our partners.’

‘Seems like it,’ I muttered, still not paying much attention to him.

As the stranger offered his welcoming hand, I couldn’t help but study his features with curiosity. ‘Andrew,’ he introduced himself, a friendly smile etched upon his face. Feeling slightly awkward, I responded with my own moniker, ‘Irena,’ instead of accepting the offered handshake. His smile quickly faded, and I watched as he lowered his hand while awkwardly clearing his throat.

“You know, you should go check on your wife,” I suggest to Andrew.

He shakes his head, as if hesitant to approach his irked wife. ‘She looked pretty pissed, I think it’s best to give her some space,’ he explains. I raise an eyebrow, curious for more details. ‘Did she happen to mention she needed some space?’ I inquire, delighting in the opportunity to put him in the spotlight. ‘She did. I tried to follow her, but she stopped me.’

‘Ah, women can be like that,’ I mused. ‘We say one thing but secretly hope for the opposite. We want our men to chase after us, to show they care.’

I will admit, we can be stubborn sometimes but will never admit it.

Andrew chuckles momentarily before his expression clouds over again.

‘But with her, it’s a different story,’ he admits.

As the sun retreats and the moon takes center stage, I cross my arms and gnaw on my lip, pondering the intricacies of love and relationships.

We stand in a quiet stillness, lost in the depths of our own musings. The melodic trickle of water lulls me into a sense of calm, accompanied by the soft hum of music that dances around us. I could spend an eternity here, nestled within this tranquil sanctuary. Andrew’s gaze lingers on me, but I pay him little heed, choosing instead to focus on the serenity of the moment.

A break in the silence shatters my reverie as Andrew speaks up, “So are we just going to be standing here-“ his words cut through the peaceful hush.

I shake my head gently, a small smile tracing my lips. ‘There is no ‘we’, Andrew,’ I retort firmly. ‘I didn’t invite you along, so feel free to leave. It might even do us both a favour.’ My words are blunt, but I refuse to mince them. If he wants to push his way into my solitude, he’ll have to deal with the consequences.

A tsk of breath escapes him, but he knows better than to argue. As I turn on my heel towards the table, I notice him following behind. My brow furrows in confusion, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling with suspicion. ‘Are you following me?’ I ask, my voice tinged with a hint of irritation.

“No.” he chuckles when he’s beside me. I raise a brow at his response and he scratches the back of his head. “Well, yes. I prefer to waste my time with you until my wife gets back.”

I hum in response As I lower myself onto the cushioned chair, the restaurant buzzes with conversation and clinking glasses. My eyes dart around the room until they land on a waiter, and I wave her over. She skitters towards me with an effervescent smile, her lips plump and wide. ‘Anything I can help with?’ she questions politely.

I lean forward, my voice firm. ‘Two of your strongest drinks, please.’ The woman’s amber eyes flit between myself and Andrew, observing us intently.

‘No problem,’ she assures us, before scurrying back to the bustling bar.

Andrew takes a seat next to me, and I notice that he’s shifted into the spot previously occupied by Saint.

But where is Saint?

My mind races as I contemplate how to rid myself of Andrew’s pesky company. The honeymoon has left me drained, and I don’t have the energy to cause any drama. Besides, Andrew hasn’t given me any reason to be suspicious. Perhaps he’s just a friendly guy, filling the silence while his dejected wife recovers.

The fear that creeps in knowing Saint could return at any moment to find me with another man on our honeymoon sends shivers down my spine. The mere thought of what he could do – perhaps murder us both in cold blood or force me to watch as he slowly and painfully tortures my companion – makes me quiver with terror. So why am I entertaining this stranger, knowing what’s at stake? I can’t say for sure.

Suddenly, the man speaks up, disrupting my thoughts. ‘So kind of you to order me a drink,’ he remarks with a smirk. Confused, I furrow my brow.

‘What do you mean?’ I inquire. He chuckles, and I feel a knot form in my stomach. ‘You ordered two of the strongest drinks,’ he clarifies.

Oh.

‘Well, they’re all for me,’ I explained. Andrew’s own smile slowly fades as he clears his throat. ‘I-well…’ he stutters.

‘Look, Andrew, there’s a lot on my mind and tonight I just want to unwind,’ I add, my words measured and slow. ‘If it’s not too bold of me to ask, how many drinks have you had tonight, Irena?’ he quips with concern etched on his face.

I simply shrug, a sly smile dancing across my lips. ‘Lost count,’ I reply with a twinkle in my eye.

Andrew’s frown deepens. ‘Is your husband okay with you drinking that much?’ he inquires hesitantly.

Again, I simply shrug, my words laced with a certain nonchalance. ‘To hell with what he thinks,’ I say with an unconcerned shrug. I mean, why let his opinion cramp my style? After all, I’m on my honeymoon, the least I could do is to let my hair down and enjoy myself, even if it means head-spinning drunkenness and blackouts.

At this moment, my mind is channelling pure anti-Saint energy. And let me tell you, I plan on harnessing every last bit of it.

Suddenly, the waiter arrives with a tray containing two mysterious concoctions. I don’t even care what’s in it, as long as it’s potent enough to give me some temporary bliss.

As the server places the glasses down, she leaves without uttering another word. I snatch up one of the glasses and take in the sight of the golden liquid with a mystical blue hue floating on top.

With bated breath, I bring the glass to my lips and allow the electric elixir to flow down my throat. A fiery sensation erupts across my taste buds, engulfing my mouth and oesophagus on the journey to my stomach.

Holy hell, that has got to be the strongest thing I’ve ever tasted.

Andrew watches me with awareness as I devour the glasses of strong liquor, both now empty.

‘You must not have witnessed the sight of a woman indulging in a hearty drink before,’ I remark with a tinge of bitterness. Andrew’s response is a mixture of nervous laughter and a sheepish shake of his head, almost as if he’s confessing to an embarrassing secret.

‘Well, quite frankly, the women in my life usually prefer to sip on champagne or wine,’ he explains. My curiosity is piqued and I interject sharply, ‘And your wife, does she drink?’ Andrew’s answer leaves me even more intrigued. ‘No,’ he admits truthfully.

I tilt my head and furrow my brow. ‘What about blazing a bit of smoke?’

I inquire, curious about his views on other tempting indulgences. Andrew stares back at me with a resolute shake of his head, denying that his wife indulges in any of those substances.

My candid response catches him off-guard and he bristles at my scepticism.

‘Why don’t you believe me?’ he demands to know, the tone of his voice dropping low with an offence.

With a sly swipe of my tongue, I moistened my lips and leaned in, setting my elbows on the table and interlacing my fingers before resting my chin on them. My gaze was fixed intently on Andrew as I spoke, my voice calm and measured.

‘Intoxication – the very word conjures images of drugs and alcohol, a one-way street to self-destruction. But it can be more than that, can’t it?’ My tone was thoughtful, almost philosophical.

A contented sigh escaped me as I stretched out my arms, feeling alive with the weight of my own opinions. ‘We can intoxicate ourselves with sex, with work, with any number of things that harm our bodies and minds.’

Andrew looked at me skeptically. ‘For someone who claims not to be drunk, you sure sound like it,’ he quipped.

I just grinned, knowing that my soberness was all in my head.

A giggle bubbles up from deep within me, a tel tale sign of the warmth creeping up my cheeks. I hoist myself up and immediately regret it as a wave of intoxication crashes over me. The world seems to come alive, pulsing with vibrant colours, the soft music a hypnotic beat in my head.

Well, I stand corrected. Drunk, at best.

Andrew springs up from his chair, eager to help, but I push him away, not wanting his hands on me. ‘I’m fine,’ I insist, but he’s not fooled.

I snatch up my purse and lurch forward, nearly tumbling to the ground before I’m caught by strong arms. My eyes widen in surprise as they wrap around my waist, a hand firmly grasping my wrist.

I meet Andrew’s gaze, his gentle eyes softly searching my face.

Tension prickled under my skin as I battled the urge to recoil from Andrew.

The bitter taste in my mouth made me want to escape his grasp. Without hesitation, I untangled myself from him and took a few steps back, creating a safe distance between us.

Frustration surged within me when Andrew refused to listen to my reassurances. ‘I’m fine,’ I insisted, but his smile had faded into a concerned frown.

As I stood there, my body shivering from the cold, a comforting warmth enveloped me. It was like being embraced by a familiar scent, one that I knew so well. My heart skipped a beat as I turned around to find Saint standing before me.

Our eyes met, and I felt my cheeks flush before he directed his furious gaze towards Andrew. ‘Who’s this?’ Saint growled, his voice so low it made my heart race.

I walk right past Saint without giving him a second glance. ‘No one,’ I mutter under my breath.

But Saint isn’t one to back down easily. He steps in front of me, his intense gaze piercing through me like daggers. I can feel his pent-up anger boiling just below the surface. It’s like he’s ready to unleash a thousand hells upon this Earth.

‘Don’t play games with me,’ he snarls, his voice laced with bitterness. ‘Who is that…thing you were flirting with?’

My heart clenches at the way he dehumanizes him. But I refuse to let him push me around like that. I sidestep him and continue on my way, my heels pounding against the cold dock. The moon shines down on me, casting an eerie glow over the water.

‘Irena!’ Saint calls out after me, his voice echoing across the docks. I can feel him hot on my heels, but I refuse to look back. My head is spinning, my ears buzzing with a thousand thoughts.

As I attempt to steady myself, I feel the regret of my earlier choice to overindulge in alcohol seeping in like a poisonous fog. Suddenly, his voice pierces through my haze and brings me back to the present moment.

My heart races as I turn to face him, feeling the intensity of his gaze upon me. The sudden twist of my ankle sends me careening forward, barely avoiding the murky water below. It’s in that moment that Saint’s hand reaches out like a lifeline and saves me from a potential plunge.

But despite his heroics, the chill in the air is replaced with an all-consuming heat as his anger reverberates through me. “What the hell is wrong with you? I asked you a question and you ignore me then fucking walk away,” his tone brimming with frustration and annoyance, making me feel small and insignificant in his eyes.

Unfuckingbelievable.

“What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you ditching me to God knows where for hours and coming back with your sour attitude.”

I retorted in frustration, my tone fierce.

Saint’s grip tightened around me, his piercing eyes scrutinizing my face.

‘You’re drunk,’ he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Dismissing his observation, I struggled to break free from his hold, but his strength proved insurmountable. ‘Let me go,’ I demanded, my anger reaching a boiling point like molten lava ready to erupt.

Foul.

Disgusting.

Outrageous.

Barbaric.

Pathetic.

Piece of a man, daring to touch me.

‘Not until you answer my question. Who the hell was that man?’ Saint demanded, his voice rising.

‘As I’ve repeatedly stated, he was no one. Can’t you comprehend that?’ I snarled at him savagely.

If he kept pushing me, I would soon explode like a volcano, unleashing my wrath.

“Now let me go!” I scream, but his grip remains unrelenting. His face is a mask of controlled fury, but the anger rages like a tempest in his dark eyes.

‘Irena,’ he growls, his tone low and threatening, ‘if you won’t tell me who he is, I’ll have to find out for myself. And I assure you, when I do it won’t be pleasant.’

A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “Are braindead for you to get it through your thick fucking skull? I’ve already told you, Saint. I don’t know who he is.

He was just some stranger I met today, and he gave me company after you bailed on me.’ I can feel the frustration bubbling up inside me, and I’m not in the mood for pointless arguments.

I struggle against his grasp, trying to pry myself free, but he only tightens his hold, causing a sharp pain to shoot up my arm. ‘Let go of me, Saint,’ I hiss, gritting my teeth in annoyance.

With all the strength I can muster, I shove him away, freeing myself from his grasp. But the victory is short-lived, as I lose my balance and tumble headfirst into the water, my body plunging into the depths below.

The frigid water enveloped me like a greedy lover, sapping the strength from my exhausted muscles with a numbing chill. Gasping for breath, I breached the surface and found myself face to face with Saint, unaffected by my unexpected plunge. His smug expression only fueled my frustration, driving me to thoughts of savage retribution.

With every ounce of perseverance I possessed, I fought my way to the dock and clung to its rough wooden surface. As I struggled to pull myself ashore, I realized that my dress clung to me like a second skin, accentuating the outlines of my body. I became aware of my nipples, hard and unyielding, aching with the bitter cold.

Furious, I looked down and saw that my heels had vanished, lost to the unrelenting depths below. My gaze met Saint’s across the water, each of us seething with resentment and antipathy, our mutual loathing a palpable force of malevolent energy.

Our relationship had long turned into a battlefield. He wanted to rain blows on my heart and soul, and I was determined to fight back with all my might.

The words ‘You are the fucking worst.’ burst out of me like an explosive, the kind that leaves a gaping hole in everything it touches. I rushed away from him, stepping heavily towards our water hut, determined to punish him with my silence.

The door of the hut creaked open as I pushed it, the sound punctuated by the thud of my purse hitting the ground. Inside, I made my way to the bedroom, my steps screaming out my rage. I approached the dresser, my eyes landing on the bottle of champagne, its golden glow taunting me. I grabbed it firmly, twisted off the cap, and watched as the bubbles rose to the surface, teasing me with their effervescence.

The golden liquid called to me, and I lifted the bottle to my lips, swallowing greedily as if I was trying to erase the taste of my anger. Suddenly, Saint appeared, standing behind me with a look of annoyance. ‘There you go again with the alcohol,’ he said, and I felt my fury rising again.

‘This is what you do to me,’ I hissed, setting the bottle down before walking away to the bathroom like an avenging spirit. The wind brushed against my skin, sending shivers through me, and I knew I was not done with him yet.

I slipped out of the clinging dress, flinging it into the bathtub with a satisfying splash. Standing there in my lacy panties, my ample chest was now on display, with hard brown tips that could cut through diamonds.

After grabbing a plush towel, I draped it around my curves before swanning out of the bathroom to find Saint undressing. His gaze was locked on me as I gathered my belongings, and I couldn’t help but throw some well-deserved barbs his way.

‘Our honeymoon is an absolute disaster, all thanks to you,’ I seethed at him. Saint’s humourless chuckle filled the room as he peeled off his shirt, showing off his well-defined abs.

“Because of me?” he mumbled to himself.

‘Delusional as always, Irena,’ he asserted, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

“Excuse me?” I trailed off. ‘Let’s not forget that you are the one who barged into my personal space, caused unnecessary chaos, and even pushed me into the ocean.’

“Push you into the ocean? Get your mind fucking straight you fell into the water I didn’t push you.” he drawled out. “Either way I’m soaking wet and might catch a cold because of you.” I phrased.

With a quick crack of his neck, Saint’s demeanour shifted. His piercing gaze bore into me, and for a moment, I felt as though I was standing in the eye of a storm. ‘If I wanted to hurt you,’ he paused, his words hanging in the air like a threat. ‘I would’ve.’

A chill ran down my spine, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a hidden meaning behind his words. Saint’s voice dropped to a low growl as he spoke again, his tone menacing. ‘Pushing you into the water is child’s play compared to what I could do to you.’

A shiver of fear ran down my spine as I stared at Saint. ‘Are you seriously considering hurting me?’ I asked, my voice quivering. His eyes glinted with anger, but he shook his head. ‘No, but I can’t help but feel provoked when you throw yourself at other men,’ he growled.

I narrowed my eyes and tugged at my towel, feeling my own anger boiling inside me. ‘Excuse me? I was barely talking to the guy!’

‘His hands were all over you,’ he accused, taking a step closer. I backed away, feeling a rush of adrenaline coursing through me.

‘That’s ridiculous!’ I screamed. ‘You left me alone for hours in an unfamiliar place. What did you expect me to do? Sit there and stare into space?’

Saint’s expression softened, but his eyes still held a coldness that sent shivers down my spine. ‘You drink too much,’ he muttered, and I felt a pang of hurt.

With a deep breath, I said, ‘I’m sorry, but I won’t stop living my life just because you’re not around. I’m my own person, and I won’t be controlled.’

With a sardonic half-laugh, I drag my tongue over my teeth. ‘Aren’t you just being a tad dramatic? Crying like a little bitch because you think I’ve been flirting with other men. What were you doing when you disappeared for hours on end? Were you fucking with some other woman?’

Saint’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with indignation. ‘To liken me to a swine of a man is a grievous insult.’

A sharp retort rose to my lips, fraught with venom and resentment. ‘And do you not think it cuts me to the core when you label me a mere desperate slut?’ I spat out bitterly.

‘Irena, I did not call you a slut,’ he interjected firmly, his gaze never leaving mine.

‘You didn’t have to,’ I retorted icily. ‘It was written all over your face.’

He snorts, clearly exasperated. ‘You’re talking nonsense. The alcohol has clearly gone to your head.’

‘You’re such a dick!’ I exploded.

‘What did I tell you about raising your voice at me Irena’ he snarls, looming menacingly closer.

‘Tell me, Saint, are you going to kill me? Or perhaps you have a wicked scheme to subject me to cruel and unusual punishment? Hell, if you fancy returning me to my uncles, be my guest, but know that I won’t be your docile pawn!’ My fury surged, propelling me to bolt towards the door. ‘I’d rather you do that than waste my breath on this pointless argument!’

As we stood facing each other, the air between us felt like a magnet, attracting explosions of tension.

He dared to take a step closer, his breath hot on my face. ‘You’d better watch your tone, Irena.’

I scoffed, taunting him. ‘Or. What?”

The darkness that encases his eyes mirrors his soul – a soul that has been long gone. His gaze is like a bottomless pit, a void that my mind can’t help but be drawn towards. Such is the power of the sinister attraction he exudes.

Etched on his face are hard-edged contours that define a brutality that he doesn’t shy away from. A surge of unease courses through me at the sight of him mingled with a strange fascination with the unknown.

A brief pause follows as Saint licks his lips – a gesture that only serves to amplify the unease within me. Then, with sudden swiftness, he takes hold of my face, his searing breath loaded with a mixture of whiskey and mint, and whispers in my ear with a menacing undertone.

‘Your words will be your undoing, Doe,’ he hisses, eliciting a shiver that races down my spine.

Before I know it, I am facing the floor, arms pinned behind me. My mind races with questions and confusion, but above all, a sense of foreboding as I wait to find out what fate has in store for me. My curiosity is instantly satiated as a soft, silky material envelops my wrist, constricting any movement I may have had.

My efforts to wriggle free of the binding are futile – it’s clear that Saint is no stranger to the art of knotting.

Suddenly, he flings me onto the bed with ease, my mind racing with a concoction of emotions.

In a trembling voice, I stutter out a question, eager for an explanation. Yet, Saint remains stoic, ignoring my pleas entirely.

To my horror, he soon emerges from the bathroom, clutching an unknown object in his grasp as I watch in anticipation.

My heart races feverishly as I realize that I am in serious trouble.

The imposing figure of Saint kneels at my feet, capturing my legs with a vice-like grip that defies my attempts to wriggle free. His brawny frame towers over me, exuding a heat that threatens to engulf me entirely. A shiver wracks my body as every nerve ending sings with fear and anticipation.

My breath hitches in my throat as Saint rises to his full height, rendering me utterly defenseless beneath him. His closeness is suffocating, and I turn my head away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.

‘I won’t hurt you, Irena,’ he assured me, his voice lilting with a dangerous edge. However, chills snaked down my spine as he added menacingly, ‘But someone is going to feel the pain tonight.’

His words send a jolt of terror coursing through me, as the sound of cracking bones echoes in my ears. Saint releases me, his heat dissipating into the air, and I am left trembling, my heart racing with the dizzying rush of adrenaline.

Even as I tell myself I should fear this man, some twisted part of me misses the intoxicating intensity of his touch. Yet the hatred I have for him burns like a chaotic wildfire.

The liquor swirls through my veins as I watch Saint spin on his heel. My heart races as I take in the stunning sight before me. His entire back is a canvas of ink, an intricate web of drawings and writing etched into his skin.

The shadows of the room obscure the details, but I can’t help but admire the way his muscles flex and ripple with each step he takes towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Saint!” My voice is hoarse as I call out to him, desperately trying to keep him close. But he ignores me, leaving me trussed up and halfway exposed on the bed. With every passing second, the towel around me feels looser, almost like a dare.

I can’t help but wonder if Saint will take advantage of my weakened state. My mind races with vivid scenarios that leave me feeling exposed, vulnerable, and terribly drunk. But Saint promised that I wouldn’t get hurt, that someone else would bear the brunt of his wrath.

As he disappears into the night, I’m left alone in the darkness, bound and helpless, with nothing but my worry and fear for company.

A sudden epiphany dawns upon me with a force that feels like a physical blow. If it’s not me, then surely it must be Andrew…The memory of Saint’s menacing words echoes through my mind, like an unyielding orchestra. The mere thought of someone else suffering on account of my actions unleashes a crushing sense of guilt upon me, a torrential wave of remorse that threatens to engulf me entirely. I try to loosen the restrictive bonds around my hands, wriggling them about as if by doing so I could somehow undo the damage already done. But instead, the fabric only tightens, and my flesh rebels against the friction, searing with an infernal heat that promises to leave a nasty mark.

With a defeated sigh, I give up struggling and let my eyes wander around the room in search of an escape. But there’s nothing, not even a sharp object that could set me free. Utterly hopeless, I fix my gaze on the door, listening to the heavy footsteps approaching.

Suddenly, the door opens and my heart stops when Andrew is pushed inside, his bruised body collapsing on the ground. I watch in horror as Saint enters the room, his left hand grasping something sinister.

Andrew looks up at me, his eyes filled with confusion. ‘Irena?’ he whispers.

My guilt is palpable.

But before I can speak further, Saint warns me to stay quiet. ‘The more you talk, the more he suffers,’ he growls, circling Andrew with a deadly weapon in hand. My heart beats wildly as he presses his thumb onto the sharp end of the blade.

Sweat drips down his nose, mixing with the blood on his face, his hair damp from sweat sticking to his forehead.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ He cries out, body trembling with fear.

I pull myself up, scooting to the edge of the bed so that I can help Andrew but Saint stops me when he grabs Andrew from his hair, his head forcefully tilted back. His Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

‘My wife over there needs to learn how to maintain her temper when talking to me. Now she doesn’t listen and when you don’t listen you need to be disobeyed.’ Saint explains to Andrew. ‘Also, you’re touching what’s mine.’

He whispers to him.

Saint let go of him, his glooming gaze finding mine.

‘Let’s have some fun.’