At His Mercy

Prelude Part 1

She glanced up, through the shop window, the hustle and bustle of Liberty market, just in time to see a sleek black 4x4 park behind her car, privacy glass-she noted, blocking her in. There was no easy escape.

She sat back in her chair, forcing herself to even out her breathing, calm down. Slowly, she slid her hands off from the counter and lowered them to her lap, sliding them along the cotton shirt and then with more force onto her jeans under it. she turned back to the sales assistant, who was looking over the pieces of jewellery laid out before him. Slowly he picked up a bracelet, it was a cuff; made with a rich, scarlet rope threaded through. Heavy gold, solid and very very expensive. A matching collar. The sales assistant had been excited when she had made the appointment, unaware of the exact pieces she was bringing back. She had known from the cases they had been made here. He had looked perturbed as she had taken them out and placed them on the counter.

'An evaluation!' she repeated in a voice that showed she was non-pulsed. She had turned to the two women beside her, with their own sales assistance. All three were staring at the counter in front her, shock as the realisation hit- what they were seeing. 'I believe they were commissioned here" she said evenly.

The door opened. The cool air rushed out like water in a broken dam and then shut quickly.

'Adam' she said without looking up at him. from the corner of her eye, she saw someone slide into the chair on the other side of her. Eyes focused in front of her, fighting the instinct to turn and stare. Something stirred inside her, as if awakening.
5 years. 5 agonising years!
A lifetime without him and yet her pulse seemed to quicken. It felt as if it hadnt been a day. Humming away. Expanding exponentially.

'Aya' a deep, rich, timber voice, like an echo from a different time, a different place. Instinctual. Familiar. Intoxicating. How long had it been since she's heard him, felt him so close? she could feel the hair on her arms jump to attention.
"I was just bringing in some jewellery for evaluation' she said feigning calm, 'I don't believe I'll be needing it any more" and then to the sales assistant 'as you were'

she heard him laugh, a deep rumble and just knew he was smiling; loving the irony of the situation. 'It's nice to see you too!' silence. "I'm afraid my wife is a little confused' he said, now to the assistant, leaning forward over the counter, fingering the rope on the collar. Firm hands, callused a little, clean nails- good grip. The silk rope coiling around his hand. It made her mouth go dry just looking at the scarlet silk winding between his fingers.
Aya scoffed, Adam ignored her 'Pack these, we're taking them back." All humour was gone- now there was a cold steel in his voice and she could feel the assistant cower under Adam's gaze. He spoke in a dangerously low voice and she hated him for it. Hated his control, his arrogance. But most of all hated his commanding tone. Like someone who is self assured and used to getting his own way.

'-we're not going anywhere together!' She said more firmly. Then in a lower voice 'I've made my bed and you don't sleep in it anymore!' she said tilting her head in his direction, but still not turning to looking at him. She knew he would be burning with fury at her impudence and dismissive manner. Not quite the first meeting he was expecting -most likely.

She felt him lean in, one arm in front of her-Belstaff leather-she noted, the other arm moved to the back of her chair, invading her personal space, closing her in. So close she could feel his breath in her ear, hear the shift of his cotton shirt against the leather and smell the warm woody oud he had favoured even when they were together.
It was intoxicating to have him so near, she wanted so desperately to lean into him, her heart drumming away in her chest. It was Adam; he was here. something in her chest seemed to be imploding at his proximity. it was almost physically painful to have him so close.

'That's funny, see I don't remember us sleeping very much- in your bed, or mine for that matter!" Sardonically smug, provoking her, taunting her. He said it just loud enough to let the customers on the other side of her hear. The older woman to her right gasped at his shameless innuendo. He was trying to intimidate her- she reminded herself, probably knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She wanted to slap his face, wanted to wipe that smug smile right off it, instead she grit her teeth and stared ahead, forced herself to maintain the cool facade. This is what he wants, to play games she reminded herself. Don't get drawn in.

she turned to face him for the first time; tight jeans, cotton shirt, leather biker jacket, dark corse hair where he'd grown out a beard, a sharp jaw line, a wave of thick black hair falling over his forehead, and those black, black eyes. Right out of a movie.
He was Enjoying her discomfort. Sniggering at her.
What did it matter? she could feel her mouth go dry, the blood rush through her veins.

she didn't know what he was expecting, but if he thought he was looking at the old Aya, he had another thing coming.
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