At His Mercy

chapter 4- aya

'How are your family? Mother?' Since I never met them I can't really say more than this, but it's polite, so I ask.
'Fine.' He concedes, knowing this.
'Shall we get right to the point?' I ask eyebrows raised. He fixes me with his stare, clearly my manner is grating. He probably thinks it's the Britishness in me. It's not. It's the damage he's done to my self-worth all those years ago (bastard) I remind myself.  He doesn't deserve any better.  'You've been served divorce papers. Sign them and I'll leave.' I state matter of factly.
His face is still, no emotion, nothing.   His eyes reflecting the fire of the candle on the table.   
I sigh. 'It's been 5 years, Adam.  Aren't you ready to move on with your life?' I wait for him to respond. Matching his gaze, measure for measure.   He's assessing the situation.
The silence stretches out between us and I take a breath, forcing myself to slow down and wait.
'Sign the papers or i'll file for divorce under Abandonment. It's up to you.'
He's glaring at me. Then moves forward in his chair. Placing his elbows on the arm rests and steepling his fingers in front of him.
'Aya.' His voice is low and he holds my gaze. 'Do you actually think I'm going to let you off so easily?' His words have my back up,  automatically I stiffen and narrow my eyes. 'Don't threaten me!' scoffing, he continues, his voice low now and he shakes his head in disbelief and then just as suddenly he drops the civil pretence. His voice is positively glacial 'you'll be collecting your pension before I sign those papers!' He leans in, eyes as black as coal ' I'll drag you through the courts for years. Don't think for a moment i can't. Or won't. This isn't Manchester Aya. You'll be back every month, every year for  as long as I want! I can make your life completely uncomfortable. Don't believe me? Go ahead I dare you!'
I stare in disbelief at him 'Why would you do that?' I stammer 'Why would you make it even worse for both of us?. . . . .  If you. . . If you have ever had any affection for me- then do the right thing!"
But I might as well be speaking to a brick wall. His face is like stone. Hard, dark eyes piercing into me.
'So what -you're punishing me for staying to look after my sick mother?' I cry in frustration. After taking a calming breath and counting to 10, I try to appeal to his better nature. But he is far beyond my reach. I feel all hope  slipping away. 'I came here to talk to the man I admired, the man I once loved.' I shake my head ' Can't we have a serious, civilised conversation like two grown adults?' I look down at my hands. Then up at him.
He looks bored.
Silence.
We rumuniate, both in  our own wretched worlds.
' 3 months' he says eventually, leaning back sighing. '3 months and then I'll sign the papers!'
I listen with relief and suddenly stop. The look in his eyes is hard. '3 months in my home, in my life, in my bed-'
'-what? You can't be serious!-'
'3 months! It's the only offer I'm going to make, take it or leave it!'
I feel my temper rising. I hate this childish behaviour, it was the same 5 years ago. His way or no way! I want to slap that smug, spoilt face so hard. But mostly I'm angry with myself. How could I have ever thought he could behave reasonably? How could I have been so naive to think he would listen or do the right thing?
'I have a job! An apartment!' I exclaim
'Consider it an investment!' He says sardonically. 'I'd say I'm letting you off lightly. Since you've kept me waiting 5 years!' His voice is mocking now. Bastard! He knows he has me between a rock and a hard place. I want to scream.
'I can't do it! I can't do three months - I can't even even bare to look at you now.' I say through gritted teeth 'I will not put my life on hold for you!' Then: 'It'll kill me!'  My fists are clenched under the table from sheer rage.
He raises an eye brows mockingly, laughs sardonicly, 'It's surprising how much pain you can live through!'
I don't know how I can bare to sit with him. He savours the steak, chewing slowly, knowing he's holding all the cards. He's not smug, just cold and distant. Gone is any sign of mischief, the man in front of me is ruthless, cold. It sends a chill down my spine- looking at this stranger.
I force myself to sit and complete my meal, not tasting the food - more to illustrate my own control and composure. I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing I'm furious.  Trying to think of another strategy. A different angle.
'Do your family know? About us?' I ask tentatively. I look up to see him watching me.
'Yes' he says 'I told them when the papers arrived. Unfortunatly for you, my mother seems to have been too stunned to have had a chance to reflect on the situation fully- so I imagine there will be some fall out at some point.  Fortunately for me, I don't really care.'
Great! More trouble. This is a disaster.
'Why are you doing this?' I say in a small voice 'Wasn't it bad enough the first time round?' His eyes narrow and he glares at me. 'Don't you want to get married again? Leave a legacy for your empire? Why drag me back into this? Your family will hate it, I will hate it, you will-' but then I realise he won't, he will enjoy every minute of my misery. It's perverse and sadistic. I sit back.  '1 Week. I'll give you a week!'
'You're in no position to negotiate.' He reminds me, '3 months!'
'You're holding me hostage  over the past. Is that it?!'  I lean forward and whisper.  'Its nothing short of prostitution- you want me to sleep with you . . .  to get my freedom back!' I say clearly, slowly -trying to get him to realise what he's doing. Trying to get him to recognise the derogatory nature of what he's asking me to do.
If I'm looking for him to recognise the indignity of the situation, I'm looking in the wrong place. Cold, black eyes  glance up at me, the hint of a satisfied smile before he returns to his food 'Glad we're on the same  page!' He replies.
Bastard!