28

Raven's perspective

My fists collided with the punching bag, the sound resonating around the room. I punched harder, even though my body and brain screamed at me to stop. My knees would buckle, my weight sagging and pulling me down. But still, I punched because I needed to feel this pain.

I wiped tears from the corner of my eyes, resuming the original position, wrists up, chin tucked in. This was one of the first things I learned in boxing classes: never let your opponent strike your face, as it would lead to a total knockout.

When I was a child, I didn't have people at my beck and call. I craved someone who would love me. But then, reality happened, and I realized it was all a fantasy of a little girl. I didn't know how to deal with the pain, so I joined boxing classes; it would give me a way to vent out my frustration.

I moved around the punching bag, another rule always stay in motion, figuring out the best possible position to put the right punch in.

I positioned my legs shoulder-length apart and threw in a punch with my right hand, followed by one with my left hand, followed by a squat, immediately resuming my original position, and did the same thing again and again.

"Why couldn't you love me?"

Punch.

"Why did you leave me alone in the world?"

Another punch.

"Why was I never enough for you?"

This time I threw in a punch crisscross with both my hands.

"Why did you let Adam do that to me?"

I punched to push these thoughts out of my head. I punched hard so the only thing I would remember was my aching muscles and never those awful memories I tried to suppress.

Life has a funny way of making you face and encounter things you don't really want to.

Why did Adam have to come back? Why did it remind me of them? I was under the false illusion that I had forgotten everything, that I could face them, but he reminded me I was still that scared little girl.

"Whom are you planning to kill?" I heard a voice behind me.

Though I recognized the voice, I didn't turn back. I resumed my punches, not losing momentum. I swung a blow and ducked to avoid getting hit right on the face.

Hands wrapped around me, halting my punches. My best friend Dave Salve carefully removed my gloves and rubbed my wrists between his hands. He had gone to visit his parents.

Though life had a personal vendetta against me, it did do a good thing. It gave me Dave as a friend. In my pathetic life, he was a constant rock, the one person who would stay with me no matter what happened.

Dave engulfed me in his arms, and I buried my face in his chest, grateful for the comfort. He was the best person in the world.

"You okay?" He asked, looking at me worriedly. I nodded in approval, discreetly trying to wipe my tears; he did notice my movement.

"You want to talk about it?" He asked worriedly.

"Maybe some other time," I replied, trying to put away from talking about it. I needed some time to come to terms on my own; then maybe I'll try to talk.

"I'll go shower; you staying for dinner?" I asked after gulping down water from the bottle he handed me.

"You okay with pasta?" He asked.

I nodded again and made my way to my room to take a shower. After a relaxing shower, I put on an oversized t-shirt and jean shorts, tied my hair into a messy bun, and went to the kitchen where Dave was no doubt cooking dinner.

"How are your parents?" I asked, nibbling on a gummy bear. Having a sweet tooth when you try to diet is the worst thing in the world, I tell you.

"Don't ruin your appetite; you should eat food, not candy," Dave scolded. I pouted, giving him my puppy eyes; he cursed and ended up giving me a few.

"They're fine; mom misses you. You should meet them." I avoided his eyes; I always ruled out his suggestion to visit his parents. I was still not ready to return to that place.

"How have you been doing?" Dave asked as he stirred the pasta and sauce together. Making myself useful, I stuck some garlic bread into aluminum foil and pushed it into the oven, setting a timer.

"Peachy," I replied, trying to sound as vague as possible. "You should start working on the jewelry designs."

Dave was responsible for designing jewelry, while I handled all the other parts of the company. Both of us run the company together.

"I'll have my team get started on them," he replied, dividing equal portions of pasta into two plates, as I took out the garlic bread, and I quickly started gulping food down.

"How was the deal with Madrigal Marketing's?" He asked, mouth full of pasta. I scowled at him, warning him to swallow before talking.

"Sam did act like a lunatic, but I put him back to his place. The deal is locked; we have to discuss the terms tomorrow," I answered.

"I hate that guy," Dave cursed under his breath. Our previous encounter with Sam made us hate him. I wonder why? I yawned tiredly, thinking about going back upstairs and falling asleep. My bed and my comforter looked like heaven now.

Dave noticed it and said, "I'll see you tomorrow. Go to bed." He kissed my forehead softly and went towards the door.

"Good night, Dad," I teased him.

________________________________________

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Madrigal," Dave said as I introduced Chris to him. They shook hands quickly before Chris locked his gray eyes on me. I awkwardly looked away, remembering the earlier incident of holding his hand.

"Hello, Ms. King." His deep, velvety voice made my stomach knot, and my nails unknowingly bit into my palm. Reply to his greeting, you fool. How am I going to look him in the eye?

"With your eyes, sweety," my subconscious rambled.

Never give up a chance to mock me, would you?

My face started getting warm, my palms sweating. Why am I blushing? He didn't make a dirty comment, so why act like a teenager? You are billionaire Raven King who can scare people away with a glare. So why can't I make eye contact?

"He... hello, Mr. Madrigal," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Great, now I'm stuttering like a little girl who met her crush for the first time. Dave raised his eyebrows at my awkward greeting. Now I will have to endure his interrogation. Great.

"Please call me Chris. Mr. Madrigal is my father, and I'm nothing like an old man," Chris joked, smiling politely. He did not look like an old man. He was rather blessed in the looks department. Whoa, slow down, Raven, did you just call him good-looking? No, I meant he did not look like an old man. There's a difference, right?

"So do you want to sign the deal papers?" Chris asked, looking at us expectantly. Done acting like a teenage girl, I straightened up. This is in regard to my company; it comes before my silly rambling.

I took my time carefully reading each clause of the deal. Having personal experience with how written agreements often come with hidden clauses that can backfire, I didn't want to take any chances.

Chris patiently waited for me to finish, and then I smiled at him before signing the agreement. Dave followed suit. I could feel Chris's eyes on me, creating a strange mixture of wanting to shudder and cringe simultaneously.

I exchanged a smile with Chris, and he returned one.

"Do anything other than smiling, my subconscious, I tell you," I thought.

Clearing my throat, I asked, "So, you can start advertising the auction once the designs are done," trying to cut through the awkwardness.

"Yeah, that's the plan," he replied. Why couldn't I come up with something smart to say? Something that would make me look incredibly intelligent and fun.

"When were you ever smart?" my subconscious remarked.

Dave opened his mouth to say something when the door opened, and Lisa came in holding a gift box. "Delivery for Ms. King from Adam Rian," she announced proudly.

Wrong timing, Lisa. Wait, what gift and from whom did you say? Did the idiot send me a corpse? Let me tell you, he is not the type of guy to send you flowers. Is it a bomb? If I die today, I'll come back as a ghost and haunt him. I'm too young to die; I haven't even destroyed my punching bag. I'm telling you one thing: I'm not dying before I kick Adam's butt.

"There's a note. A gift to start our friendship once more," Lisa squeaked, overly excited. Friendship? How did this happen in this universe, much less another one? I'd rather stay friendless, thank you. I mentally facepalmed myself.

Adam Rian, you better run because you're gonna wish you were dead. My inner monologue was interrupted when I met Dave's furious gaze. Chris looked confused at the gift box and then at me again and again. Wait, did he think Adam and I are dating?

Geez, I wouldn't go near that six-foot snake with a ten-foot pole.

"Might want to explain why Adam Rian is sending you a gift?" Dave asked, barely keeping his temper in check.

Guess who's going to be interrogated?

Shit.

Damn you, Adam.