𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐦

SIX

"Lookin' into his eyes, I think he's already hurt."

6

When I was a little girl, my mother would always call me into the kitchen on Sunday afternoons to bake cupcakes. We would make all kinds of flavors—chocolate, vanilla, red velvet. It became our thing, something special we shared. As I grew older, baking became my escape. It was the one thing that could calm me after an intense day, a quiet sanctuary in the midst of chaos.

I remember one day, I had a panic attack. My mother found me on the kitchen floor, tears streaming down my face, surrounded by cupcakes—frosting smeared across every surface. I had just learned that my father had died in a head-on collision.

My father had his flaws, no doubt. He hurt my mother in ways that couldn't be undone, and yet, I never doubted his love for me—at least when I was younger. But as I grew, it felt like his love for me faded, like the bond we once had had slipped through my fingers, irretrievable.

I'm placing cake batter into the oven, I shut it checking the temperature. I flinched, a little startled at the sudden contact of hands wrapping around my waist from the back. Reign. The smell of cigarettes and musky cologne filled my nose right on time, the expensive kind.

"It smells good in here princess." He whispered into my ear before he lightly kissed it. A shiver shook my spine, sending signals for pulsation in my pants.

"I-I thank you R-Reign." He spun me around, I attempted to place my trembling hands on his chest but he took them in his hands laying soft kisses on my fingers. I almost melted at the gesture.

I shy away with a closed lip smile, but he somehow sensed my timid action. His usual sinful smirk before reaching to kiss me slow as if he missed me. I kissed him back nevertheless a little scared.

That's when everything Amaya had told me began to resurface. It must have shown on my face, because Reign's expression shifted back to that stoic mask—the one I could never quite read.

"If you have something you want to ask, speak, Amina."

I'd never been good at hiding my emotions through my face. Here goes nothing.

"A-Are you... w-well, do you participate in or—organised c-crime?" The moment the words left my mouth, I felt the familiar sting of tears beginning to well up in my eyes.

That dangerous smile of his was hypnotic, pulling me in, as if inviting me to kneel before him.

"I do adore your innocent curiosity," he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to my hand.

He continued to gaze down at me, locking eyes with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"I am my grandfathers first grandson, I was choose long before I knew how to fuck pussy. I have you now."

The same arousal swept me, I questioned myself if I am that attracted to him. He kidnapped me for god sakes and killed an innocent girl right in front of me! I yanked my hands from him with the most serious look I could muster up.

Deep breath. "This—this is criminal. You killed my friend, almost crushed my throat, t-took my job, my family, my friends. This is inhumane, and you know it." I tried to raise my voice, but fear coursed through my veins, undermining my words.

The treacherous smile was gone, replaced by the familiar, unreadable Reign. He took a couple of steps back, as if sizing me up. I gripped the corner of the counter for support, trying to steady myself.

"Come, let's go for a walk, da." He extended his hand. I hesitated before taking his cold grip. He told a maid to keep an eye on the oven, but something about those words echoed in my mind, warning me not to find any comfort in them.