Operation: One percent

Chapter 29

Margaret

True to his word once again, he called in some favors, after which he turned around and leaned against the work table. Lowering his device, he turned to me raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"I don't know how I should say this... Is there something else I can offer as a payment instead?"

He clicked his tongue, and promptly smirked, after which he put his hands in his pockets. His eyes darkened, and only by them, I could conclude that he didn't find my response amusing or truthful, even if his posture was relaxed. 

"You should know this Margaret."

Closing in on my personal bubble, his feet were slow, but I knew perfectly what he was capable of.

"As much as I don't leave any debts unpaid, I expect other people to do the same. And you are long overdue on keeping your promise."

I couldn't dare look at him now that he was so close to me, his imposing stature demanding my focus on him. I kept my arms crossed, in a self-soothing manner. Each fiber of my being screamed at me to run, but my feet felt like ton of bricks.

"Why are you shaking?" He asked. 

I was unaware of it but now as he brought it up, I felt embarrassed about it. 

"I am not." 

He pressed his pointer and thumb finger up against my jaw, forcing me to look at him. The gesture was firm but gentle.

"Margaret, I would never hurt you." 

He scanned my face, his fingers delicately trailing the lines of my face, not moving anywhere where I might not like it. 

"You tried to."

"If I truly did, then we wouldn't be having this conversation."

I moved his hands away from my face but kept a hold of his wrist. 

"I am sure you are well aware that there is more than one way to hurt a person."

"Yes. Yes, I know which is why I said it."

I have a feeling that he would chase me to the ends of hell if it meant receiving his answer.

"I am taking some pills that numb me. That's it."

It was my turn to scan his face. I observed for any traces of judgment or disgust but there were none. 

"Are they the reason you had that reaction the other day?"

I chuckled because I knew exactly what he wanted to say. What label he wanted to call me by.

"I am an addict. So yes, yes it was."

He was serious, and his face was not in any way disapproving or anything like that. It was more of a sympathy. 

"Thank you, Margaret. I understand why you were hesitant to tell me. It took courage to admit that."

Was that sarcasm? 

"Please don't make fun of me."

His eyes and mouth widened in surprise. 

"Never." 

He pulled his hand away from my wrist, only to take my hand with his. His hand enveloped mine with its warmth. For some reason, I didn't want to deny myself from it.

"Then what are you going to do with that information?"

"I will not do anything with it. What do you mean?"

"Are you going to turn me to the police? Try to tell me that it's not good for me. Something?"

A hint of sadness decorated his gaze. 

"I am certain that you know the best of how much it controls your life, and I honestly do not know how am I supposed to react or say right now, but what I do know is that I want to hug you. Can I do that Margaret?"

Stupified at the revelation only for a moment, I recomposed myself promptly, after which I gave a court nod. 

Slowly, his hands wrapped against my waist, and mine atop his shoulders, he blanketed me with the warmth that I could feel through his clothes. The scent of freshly washed clothes and soap prevailed, with a hint of sandalwood. Perhaps the change in his scent made me ease up. 

"I am so sorry Margaret."

Almost a whisper, but loud enough for me to hear, his voice velvet as he uttered the words with sincerity. I wanted to ask exactly what was he apologizing for, but I found comfort in our shared silence. He only tightened his arms around me, as if trying to comfort me with his presence. My body relaxed against his, and as much as I wanted to fight against the soothing hand against my back, or the nuzzle against my neck, I couldn't. I couldn't find the strength, be it physical or emotional. Not because of his firm grip which I could easily get away from with just a word, or the fact that I needed to get away from him. 

It was my soul that didn't allow it. It was my soul that craved this.