W A R N I N G: CAN BE CRINGE
"Shhh...just a little bit more. If you can still walk, then we're not finished." He groaned, moving down to my breasts, I moaned loudly, lost in a sea of pleasure. God I would definitely asked my existence after this.
An...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The dramatic moment had me dying, inside. Expect Alessia comment, that I bite my inner cheek to stay without a comeback thanks fully Master-Wall or Ryan—Mr. Caesar many nickname I didn't give a shit, Ryan stand up for me.
Which was a good sign and a bad one at the same time. After serving everything, in mid way Hazel dress ripped and couldn't get out the kitchen, why? She had to go through the dinning room.
Her dress wasn't so ripped, but barely show her thigh, so Kira stayed back to help her out somehow.
So it was me, the flat person to bring Mr. Weber dessert as he wanted. The dining room felt like a pressure cooker about to explode, and I was caught right in the middle of it. Alessia's words had a way of digging into me, each syllable sharper than the last. She always knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt the most, and today she wasn't holding back.
"Wearing that? It's no wonder you weren't educated by your family, if you even have one?" Alessia's voice dripped with venom, her gaze piercing through me like a blade.
The air seemed to freeze as her words hung in the room. My grip tightened around the dessert tray in my hands, and for a moment, all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. She had crossed a line, one she didn't even know existed—or maybe she did, and that's why she stepped right over it.
The first comment I could handle. I'd taken worse from her, from other people in my life, but this? This was different. This felt like she had reached inside me and twisted something raw, something I hadn't let myself feel in a long time. My hands trembled, and I was seconds away from launching that tray across the table, straight into her smug face.
But instead, my tears betrayed me. They welled up, threatening to spill over despite my best efforts to blink them away. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, trying to use the pain to ground myself, to keep from completely breaking down in front of these people.
The old woman—Mrs. Weber, I think—snickered, clearly enjoying the spectacle. That just made it worse. It wasn't just Alessia; it was all of them, watching me like I was some kind of entertainment.
But before I could gather the courage to either walk out or lash out, something in the room shifted. It was subtle at first—a drop in the temperature, a sudden stillness that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Ryan—Mr. Caesar, Master-Wall, whatever the hell I wanted to call him—had been silent through all of this, his expression cold and unreadable. But now, I could feel the change in him, like a storm rolling in over calm waters. When I dared to glance up, I saw it.
He snapped.
His eyes were dark, nearly black with fury, and his entire posture had shifted. The calm, composed façade he usually wore was gone, replaced by something feral and terrifying. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought I heard it crack, and his hands gripped the edge of the table with enough force to make the wood creak under the pressure.
The room held its breath, every second stretched out like an eternity. Alessia, for all her bravado, finally noticed. Her eyes widened in fear as she realized the extent of Ryan's rage. But she was too stupid or too proud to back down completely.
"Ryan, I—"
He didn't let her finish. He stood up so quickly that his chair scraped loudly against the floor, the sound like a gunshot in the silent room. The entire table flinched, and Alessia visibly shrank back, her earlier confidence evaporating under the weight of his glare.
"Non osare mai più parlarle così.," Ryan's voice was low, a barely controlled growl that sent a shiver down my spine.
Alessia opened her mouth to protest, but he didn't give her a chance. He leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower, the words coming out in a deadly whisper that somehow felt louder than any shout.
"Get out," he said, each word laced with a threat that promised more than just consequences. "Before I do something we'll all regret."
The room was silent, the kind of silence that comes just before everything shatters. Alessia looked like she wanted to argue, to push back, but Ryan's eyes held her in place, a silent command that left no room for defiance.
She stood there, trembling, trying to save face, but she was too terrified to move. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she turned and walked out, her steps hurried and shaky. Mrs. Weber followed, her expression somewhere between shock and disgust, but even she wasn't stupid enough to say anything.
As the door closed behind them, the tension in the room didn't dissipate. If anything, it felt like it had only condensed, pressing down on everyone left at the table. I didn't know what to do—whether to thank Ryan or apologize or just leave. But I couldn't move, my feet rooted to the spot as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in.
Ryan was still standing, his breathing heavy, his hands clenched into fists. He looked like he was trying to calm himself down, but the anger hadn't fully left his eyes. It was terrifying, but in some strange way, it was also...comforting? Knowing that someone—someone like him—had stood up for me, had gotten angry on my behalf.
But at that moment, I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to process any of it. So I did the only thing I could think of. I kept my head down, mumbled a quick, "Holy Shit," and walked out of the room, my heart still pounding in my chest.
As I left, I could feel his eyes on me, burning with something I didn't dare try to understand.
Translate: Non osare mai più parlarle così. =Don't you ever dare speak to her like that again.
