Chapter 31 Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
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Mirah
“I feel used, Zeke.” I whisper-cried, the dam of tears finally breaking apart. “But I don't hate you. I hate myself. 'Cause despite how many times you've hurt me-” I whimpered, my words trailing off. I turned away, looking at the starry night. “-I still love you.” I finished off.
He didn't move, nor did he react. I whirled around, and jabbed into his chest. I finally saw the surprise in his cold eyes. Hurt danced in their orbs. “Despite the fact that you made a fool of me, Zeke. I still love you.” I hit him harder, but he didn't flinch.
“Despite the fact that you aren't different from Jayden and my father, I still fucking love you!” My mellow voice graduated into a yell. The tears rained down faster.
I sniffled. “I regret-”
He finally moved, sweeping me into his arms, and swallowing the rest of my words into his mouth.
He tugged gently at my hair, even as his lips moved with an urgency greater than his usual self. The kiss wasn't sensual. Or gentle.
It was different from anything we'd shared. He poured all his emotions into it. Apology. Pain. Anguish.
I tasted the saltiness of my tears which had slipped down. He pulled me even harder against himself, encircling my waist with his strong hands. My chest swirled with emotions, as I matched his urgency. I scratched his shoulder with my fingers. His chest.
Bit down on his lower lip hard, until I drew blood. But even then, he didn't let go. When he finally did, his eyes were reddened. My eyes were still moist with tears.
“I left the wedding, to come rescue you.” His voice was husky- from pain or arousal, I didn't know which.
I blinked, as the realization of his words dawned down on me. My lips parted, but he continued.
"I know it doesn't count, Mirah.” He tilted my jaw, making me stare directly into his eyes.
“I've never wanted a woman the way I want you. I-I'm sorry.”
Hearing cold-eyed and emotionless Zeke apologize, almost made me cave in. But his hurtful words to me echoed through my mind, and I backed away. The hurt in his eyes deepened.
“That alone wouldn't suffice. We are done. That's if I ever meant anything to you. Please take me back.” I didn't wait for his response, as I turned and headed back. I heard his footsteps, just the moment he scooped me into his arms, and flew down.
He said nothing, as he helped me into the car. As I tightened my seatbelt, I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe.
I pushed back my tears, and relaxed on the seat. Yet that feeling- the one that seemed like my heart had been stomped on by hundreds of people, wouldn't go away.
“Scotch on the rocks,” the handsome curly haired boy with braces said, as he flashed me a poor attempt at a seductive smile. I ignored him, and turned to the drinks’ cellar “Scotch on the rocks, coming right up.”
By the time I placed a glass before him again, his earlier enthusiasm had died down. He merely grabbed it, and moved to a table, where his friends were waiting. They were obviously schoolboys, and judging from their boyish looks—had to be eighteen or so.
I massaged my temple. Barcon was unusually full today, very unlike every other Thursday evening. I looked forward to getting a good sleep, and if I could stay up- a girl's night with Nessa. It was already two weeks since I was rescued from Jayden, and surprisingly, he hadn't disturbed me since then. Neither had Zeke. Nessa had been so happy when I returned, and had jokingly called me ’The disappearing Princess.’
After many idle days at home, and the prompting of my very empty bank account, I was back to my bartending work. It was against the advice of Nessa who had offered me a job, on behalf of her acquaintance who needed a secretary. I'd politely declined, despite the pay. I loved my job. It was great, and had an equally great pay. I also had a great manager. I wasn't ready to plunge into any social circle with my current predicament. Plus I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention. Especially from my father, who I was still avoiding. He hadn't sought me out. Yet.
And that was more than enough reason to be suspicious.
“Has Clarissa come for inspection?” I heard the familiar voice of my colleague, and smiled in relief. Clarissa was our manager. And though she was nicer than most managers, she was heavy on punctuality.
“You're lucky.” I winked, getting ready to pull away my apron. My shift was over.
Hailey smiled, as she took my spot. “You look like death. How come you haven't scared away any customer?” She asked, with a teasing smile.
I laughed, and left the counter. I was halfway to the door, when I saw a familiar face. I blamed the reason why I was seeing Nessa- who told me she was having a business date with a client, at the club where I worked, on my tiredness. And I blamed the reason why I moved towards the table, on my inability not to mind my own business. The more I got close to the lady who frowned over a glass of wine, I was convinced she was my redhead friend.
“Mirah?” She looked up first, and I breathed in relief. My gaze alternated between her, and the man opposite who had a cold look that could kill.
"What are you doing at Barcon?” I asked, still standing.
“Having the business date I told you about.” She shrugged. The frown on her face earlier on had lessened a bit. But it was still there. Instinctively, I looked at the man again. It turned out her business date was with Qyle George. If I had doubted what Nessa told me about the man hating women, the look on his face confirmed it. It was simply…bland.
“Join us,” Nessa offered. “We can go home together.”
The last thing on my mind was spending another minute at my place of work. Especially with my limbs calling out for attention and a good soak in a hot tub.
I shook my head. “Go ahead. It's a business date, and I need to get home.” I waved and turned to leave.
“You can join us.” Qyle's voice halted me in my tracks. I turned, surprised. I was even more baffled when I saw the stunned look on Nessa's face. She was the one who'd asked me to join them, after all. I found myself seated beside my friend, so I was directly opposite Qyle George. My heart raced faster than a motor set in motion, without brakes. As a little girl, I'd attended many social functions with my dad. The little ones, where modest people attended. But as I got older, I might have developed low self-esteem. I grabbed Nessa's bottle of my favorite grape wine, and poured myself a glass. After two glasses, my tongue finally loosened up.
“This place is so hot. I think your boyfriend is the cause.” I slurred, throwing my head back, with a childish chuckle.
Nessa had better alcohol tolerance than I did. And she hadn't had any alcohol to drink yet. So I continued drinking. She'd drive me back home.
“He's not my boyfriend,” Nessa smacked my arm.
I continued anyway. “You are hot, and he's hot. What's stopping you from dating? He's also veeeery rich,” I hiccuped.
I giggled, and grabbed at the glass of wine again. Nessa stopped me in time. Qyle sat in his chair, arms crossed and unperturbed.
“After that, you're having no more wine.” She warned.
I ignored her warning, and quaffed glass upon glasses of wine. By the time the date was over, my head was on the table, as I murmured barely incomprehensible words.
Nessa led me out of Barcon, while I staggered against her. When I was finally buckled against the passenger seat, and she hurried over to the other side, I caught the glimpse of dark hair.
I squinted my eyes, but the sight didn't vanish. Cold Eyes. Dark hair. Pale skin. Zeke.