A Flame Divine ♕

XV. B L A S P H E M Y

m e r r i k

Merrik had holed himself up in his bedroom, wanting to forget last night. He had not emerged since he stormed off, leaving his brother and the others to fend for themselves. The only upside was that his guns got delivered, and the business was as powerful as ever. But as he laid atop the sheets the next morning, he just couldn't get his mind away from the nagging thought that a stranger was in his house.

Stellan had texted him explaining the stranger's presence in his home, along with a threat—he owed Stellan for last night, and the woman staying at there was non-negotiable. Merrik was too tired to argue, even though the thought that someone could be making a mess or rifling through his things left him anxious and filled with unrest. Merrik suffered from a mild obsessive-compulsive disorder. Merrik Hailström, the powerful head of an international company, crippled by such a thing.

He could not stand it any longer. Rising from the bed, he slipped on some pajama pants and stepped out.

He walked into the kitchen and saw a redheaded girl sitting on his sofa, wearing a rumpled white v-neck and tight black pants. He swallowed, realizing he had no idea what to say to her.

But she spoke first, breaking the silence between them. "Good morning," she said, her lilting voice quiet and broken sounding.

Merrik studied the woman before him. She looked scared. Maybe she should be. After all, he was not a nice guy. What exactly was Stellan thinking, bringing this girl to him like he was some sort of babysitter? He looked around and saw no bags, not even a purse; it appeared that she only had the clothes on her back, likely worn two days in a row. The thought made his skin crawl. "There is nowhere to return you to, is there?"

She furrowed her brow and bit her lip. "No," she murmured, and he could see her whole body was shaking. "But... I guess I could... I could go back to Frank."

Merrik could see the fear in her eyes. He made a mental note to take this Frank off of the list for potential buyers; he had no room in his cold heart for abusive men.

Merrik shook his head, abandoning the hope that he'd have his house all to himself. He had work to do, and if she were to stay, she needed a different wardrobe. "I'll be ready in five minutes. Then we're leaving."

"Wh-where are we going?" she asked. "You're taking me back to Frank?" Tears filled her eyes.

Merrik stopped breathing for a moment, her frightful teary eyes piercing through him. "No, no. I won't take you back there. Not unless you want to." He spoke softly as if she were a timid doe on the verge of bolting. "We're just going to get you some things you need."

She exhaled in relief, her shoulders immediately relaxing. "I don't want to go back to Frank. Ever." She looked at him shyly. "But I don't have any money..." she murmured, pulling her hair over her shoulder nervously.

Merrik blew a breath out his nose. This girl was humorous. And that hair... it looked lush. "I never said you had to have money." Merrik turned to go to his room. "Five minutes."

Five minutes later, he emerged, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt with the neck open. "Come on, let's go."

Wait," she said, her voice cracking. "Do you have a jacket I can wear?" She looked down at her bare, pale arms.

Merrik didn't think of the cold winds Chicago usually had in autumn. His eyes roamed over the girl once more, lingering on the amount of skin that was showing. The poor thing was only in a thin cotton shirt and skin-tight leggings. He cringed internally imagining how cold she would be while they were out and the goosebumps that would eventually raise on her alabaster skin.