Sia
The drive was long, yet strangely serene. City lights blurred into ribbons, and the whispered hum of the engine lulled the tension in my chest. I pressed myself against the seat, gripping my bag so tightly my fingers hurt. The memory of the sickness tablet eased my stomach, but anxiety sat heavy on my ribs.
We've had lunch together now—a quiet declaration from him that this would be routine. I didn’t ask why I hadn’t been invited before; I’d learned how futile questions were.
The car rolled to a stop beneath the soft amber glow by the lobby. I sighed, ready for soft clothes and hard sleep.
“Bye, Xander. And… thank you,” I said, sliding toward the door.
His hand halted me, gentle but firm, like velvet wrapped around steel.
“What about dinner?” he asked quietly, voice folded in concern that made my heart race.
Dinner. I realized I’d thought only about rest. My throat tightened as I swallowed.
“I’ll figure something out,” I said, voice feeble. “I just… really want to sleep.”
He didn’t say anything. He stepped inside the elevator with me, as if guided there by invisible cues.
We ascended in silence.
My floor appeared. “Bye,” I said.
“What bye? I’m coming with you.”
I froze. “B-but why?”
He looked calmly annoyed. “Because you need to eat. And unpack.”
He didn’t wait. His hand found the small of my back and guided me down the hallway. I hesitated but followed—because his presence felt familiar now, even if I faintly recoiled at how effortlessly he insisted.
He whispered near my ear: “You don’t even have groceries.”
Heat flooded my neck. My pulse thundered in my ears.
“Open the door, baby.”
The nickname dragged me across the threshold. My hand shook as I unlocked it. The way he said 'baby', felt less like affection, more like possession dipped in honey.
Inside, he strode to the couch and sank into it, his expression unreadable. I stood on the threshold, uncertain how to proceed.
“Coffee?” I offered.
His eyes fluttered open. “Please,” he said, rubbing his brow. “Two.”
Again, I couldn’t help but smile at the small crease around his eyes.
I turned to the kitchen, fingers trembling as I measured grounds and warmed water. The silence was thick, heavy with questions.
A sudden knock at the door startled me.
I answered it to find a pizza delivery boy holding a box. “I… didn’t order anything,” I stammered.
“I did,” said Xander’s calm voice from behind me. He stepped forward, took the box without waiting, and closed the door quietly.
The night was unfolding exactly the way he wanted.
He gestured toward the couch. “Come. Eat.”
“I-Uh.” I stumbled over my words.
“Don’t overthink it, Sia,” he said, voice low. “Just eat.”
His tone was gentle—but beneath it, I heard a steel edge.
YOU ARE READING
The Playboy's Wicked Revenge (Major editing In Progress)
RomanceAll she ever wanted was someone who can love her, understand her and respect her but destiny has something else stored. All her life she prayed for one thing which is, not to be a BURDEN on anyone, but life's not fair at all She thought its love but...
