by Mara Lynne
“I know your reason, Angel Mohr. You see, I can’t compare you with other girls I know, so I had you researched, and I found out why you blurted out those words.” He smirks as he sees me caught up in his words. He tips my chin with his finger, grins again, and gazes at my reddened face. “You need me, Mohr. I can give you what you need. I can be very generous to you.”
I push him away instantly after the growing ruckus inside me almost made me lose my balance.
“I’m not like your other girls, Damien Etheridge!” I furiously tell him. I feel my tears welling up the corners of my eyes, my pride fighting its descent. “You’re not the answer to my problem. Money can’t buy everything.”
“Unfortunately, it’s what you need this time. Don’t be too naïve. I’m already making things easy for you.”
I try to resist his grasp, but every time I push away from him, Damien tightens his grip on me and pulls me closer to him. I could already feel his warm breath.
“Stay away from me,” I warn him.
But Damien thrusts me to the corner of the table. His hips pin me down. His knee divides my thighs that I almost gasp loudly when I feel his erection harden in my abdomen. I see his deep gray eyes gazing down at me. They were grim and angry, piercing my very soul that my knees shake.
“Damien…” I utter helplessly as he starts to slip his fingers under my shirt. His touch sends sparks all over my body, and I feel the sting traveling from my burning cheeks to the spot where his expert fingers are exploring my skin.
He immobilizes me.
“What are you doing?” I hear my voice get fainter and fainter as his hands creep upwards, threatening the base wiring of my bra.
“Letting you feel bliss and delight,” he murmurs right on top of my mouth.
I don’t know what is happening. I just start to feel so helpless and weak.
“Letting you know that you both get this and your father’s medical treatment for free. You, Angel, for these two. Didn’t I just make the most generous offer?” He grins while his other hand lands on my nape, his fingers running through my hair. I was even more stunned and petrified when his lips begin to brush the corners of my mouth.
This is the Damien effect, I guess, when girls feel totally out of themselves that they just give in. This is where his confounding reputation stems from. This is why most girls consider him sinfully tempting and irresistible.
Am I falling for it, for his spell, for another mistake?
No! My rational mind knocks me off so I stay awake.
I quickly pull away from him.
His face flushes right after.
“Nothing happened!” I said, my mouth quivering as the words spill out.
He rubs his lower lip with his thumb and grins.
“It’s recorded in here, Angel.” He points at his temple. “You just made yourself so desirable.” His voice is overflowing with seduction and lust.
“Shut up, Damien!” I look around to make sure we are alone in the room. I can’t help but worry if someone has seen us nearly making out. I hear my heart pounding so loud like an unstoppable tempest ready to devour anything. I grow afraid that it might overpower my judgment.
“Oh, God.” I pace around, trying to calm the storm inside me. “I shouldn’t have let you…”
“You shouldn’t have asked for sex in the first place, Angel,” Damien cut me off.
I turn to face him.
“You shouldn’t have asked that question,” he continues. “See how it twisted our minds? I believe you shall not go unnoticed anymore. Be careful around me.”
He smirks at me before he leaves the room.
Chapter 3: The Price
I have the plastic cups arranged in rows inside the cabinet under the counter. Reds with reds, and blues with blues. I have done it countless times. The boxes of napkins are all set and piled before Ray takes them away to the table. It’s a busy afternoon in the school cafeteria, and I’m lucky I only have to stay for two hours before I can scoot out.
I heave a sigh, long and deep. The memory of Damien Etheridge’s life-sucking touch still lingers in my mind, and I could hardly concentrate in whatever I do. I still feel those tight grasps and electrifying signals that traveled all over me.
Damn! I am not drooling over him, am I?
I shook my head. Nah! Drooling over him is too much, I guess. I will never push the desire button for Damien Etheridge. Never! I am not like those girls who are easily swayed by a mere glance or smile from him.
Just never!
He’s just so full of himself. He even thinks he can buy me. So what if he’s rich? So what if he can help me with Dad’s hospital bills? He doesn’t realize that what I did last week was a total mistake, does he? If I could turn back time, I will slam my face against the hard wall for doing it. I should have gone home that afternoon and accompany Dad to the clinic. I should have just let desperation suck for a while. That extreme anxiety would have lasted temporarily compared to this huge block of looming disaster over me. That would have been tolerable.
Oh God, if I could only undo that mistake.
“Angel!” I hear Ray’s panicky voice from behind me. He ducks and levels himself with me on the floor.
“You have a stalker. Table six.”
“Kill me now, Ray.” I feel a huge stone pounding on my chest. Why won’t he leave me alone? Oh, yeah. After what happened today, I don’t think he’ll ever leave me.
“What did you do this time, Angel?” Ray starts helping me fix the utensils. He sounds so suspicious of me.
“Are you thinking I said something awful again?”
“Absolutely!”
“I just rejected him, Ray. He came to me after class and insisted on what he wants to happen. Haynes even partnered us for Friday’s Shakespeare day.” Ray shouldn’t know what really happened in the classroom. I’m trying to extinguish that memory right now.
“Oh, girl, you are really in trouble.”
“I am. So meet my demise!” I try to make a joke out of it.
I stretch my legs to a standing position when I catch Damien walking toward the counter.
“Shit!” I pull Ray down the counter table again so we stay hidden. Unfortunately, I saw him smile when our eyes met for a split-second.
“Aww!” Ray whined after he hit his head on the marble edge of the counter.
Sorry, I mouthed.
“What’s wrong with you?” He scratches his head to ease the pain.
“Etheridge is coming!” I whisper anxiously.
“What?”
“Do something, Ray!”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. Send him away, I guess!”
Ray snorts with an unimpressed smile. “You can’t send a customer away. He’s money, Angel!”
“I’m out of here,” I said. I think of crawling from the counter to the kitchen door when Mr. Lippit, the cafeteria manager, comes out and arches his brow on us, seeing us ducked under the table.
“What are you doing down there?” he asks, visibly annoyed.
“Nothing, Mr. Lippit,” Ray answers. He’s always afraid of him because of his bulbous mustache and curly hair. He just looks presentable and neat today because he has a hairnet over his head to cover that huge kinky hair.
“Follow me, Gaskell!” he snaps at Ray and leaves immediately back to the kitchen.
Ray stands up and freezes.
I think I know why.
“Er—” He quickly peeks at me, then turns straight to the counter where he might be. “Yes, how can I help you?”
“I want an Angel coffee.” His husky and naughty voice put emphasis on my name.
Oh, crap!
The words hit my head like a baseball club.
“Er… We don’t serve that kind of coffee here,” Ray answers. His foot is starting to push me away, kicking me out of the counter.
“Gaskell?” The kitchen door slams open, and Mr. Lippit’s fuming face emerges.
“I�
��m taking an order, sir,” Ray answers, his knees definitely shaking now.
“Why are you still there, Mohr?” He breathes fire through his nose when he sees me doing nothing. “Get the fucking order!”
“Yes, sir!” I quickly stand up.
Damien silently laughs.
An ashen-faced Ray walks toward the kitchen door without saying a word. I feel guilty for always bringing him trouble. I’m not really sure why Lippit wants to see him, but I think it’s about the oven toaster Ray charred into coal and ashes two days ago. It will probably be taken out of his paycheck.
When it was only us, I take my notebook and pen to write down his order. This is officially the second worst day of my life. It takes me all the guts in the world to stay unfazed by his taunting gazes.
“If you want coffee, choose from the menu.” I hand over the list.
“I actually got what I want,” he confidently responds.
I roll my eyes at him and place the menu back in the drawer.
“Okay, regular coffee then,” he says after realizing how annoyed I am. “No, I’ll take a glass of beer instead.”
“That’ll be a dollar and fifty cents.” I open the beverage machine and beer flow from the valve to a glass. “Here!”
He takes out his wallet and tosses a premium credit card.
“Seriously?” I dryly ask as I glare at the expensive card on the table.
“I’ll have more orders, don’t fret.”
I swipe the card to the machine.
“Anything else?” I return the card to him.
“Hold on to that for a sec, please. I won’t be leaving any sooner,” he said and flashes that smirk that I hate so much.
I left the card on the table, turn my back to him, and start pretending that I am busy. Well, I am a little bit busy with refilling the bottles with fruit juices but not too preoccupied not to notice and feel his gaze. They’re intimidating and pretty annoying really. What will it take for him to stop doing this?
“I’d like some chips, please.” His voice gives me sudden chills. I thought I could breathe freely after the beer and just go on avoiding him.
I take out a pack of Lays from the cabinet and toss to him.
“Why so cold?” He grins as he took the pack of Lays with both hands.
“Stop bothering me, okay?” I snap at him.
“Since when did I become a nuisance? I hardly even notice you before, not until…”
“I’m working here, and I’m not going to entertain your BS, okay?” I interject. That’s quite a huge stock of patience I used right there.
“Come on, don’t be too naïve, Angel.”
Why do I hate it when he calls my name? There’s this tone in his voice, a good mixture of huskiness and sultriness that heat my insides which I am sure he uses to anyone he talks to, especially to girls. Am I getting this kind of treatment so he could get to me?
“Etheridge, do I have to define to you what you are to me?” I lean forward over the counter. “If I do, it’s not going to be what you always get from others. It’s a harsh definition of the even harsher truth about you and why you were the subject of my stupidity.”
The corner of his mouth curves as though he finds what I said amusing. Quite contrary to what I was hoping he would feel, thwarted and insulted.
We are now face-to-face, only mere inches away.
I raise my eyebrow to show who is in control.
“Just so you know, Etheridge. I never intended to flatter you by doing what I have done. It’s far from a compliment. As a matter of fact, I chose you as a clear candidate because I thought you were an easy solution to all my problems. You were money in my eyes, Damien. Nothing more. How can that be amusing to you? I was going to use you because you are rich, and I know you find intense pleasure from such activity, and I greatly need your money. For poor, desperate people like myself, money is more than integrity or principles. Using you is not a compliment, Etheridge. I’m actually looking down on you. I have nothing to keep from you now. You already know the reason behind my folly. But I have to tell you that if I were to do it, it would not be with you.” I let go a huge amount of air trapped in my lungs. I have no idea how I said those things without faltering, but I know my knees were shaking the whole time. I pause as I take in what I have just said.
What’s wrong with me? Every time I am in front of this conceited man, I lose the screw in my head and just blather around. It’s like my brain disconnects from my mouth.
Damien just stands there, still with that ever annoying smirk, his eyes following the movement of my lips and probably laughing in his mind.
Did I say something terrible again? Was it worse than before? I have a feeling that I am doomed for the second time.
“Are you done?” he calmly asks, his face holding a teasing grin.
“Yeah.” I gulp at how he remains so cool. I just insulted him, and here he is still smiling and so composed.
“For your information, Angel.” He moves a little closer that I have to step back to avoid his nose. “We have the same intentions. You get from me what you need, and I get from you what I want. It’s a win-win situation.”
“Why are you pursuing this? I already said no, and that it was a great mistake.”
“We can always turn that mistake into something pleasurable for me and gainful for you, right?” He leans back and rests his back on the chair.
“You are unbelievable.” I can only sigh.
“How much do you need?” he said while crossing his arms over his chest. “Will a hundred grand be enough?”
A hundred grand? My eyes widen. Sudden horror strikes me. It seems that Damien can easily spend such a huge amount for pleasure, with not even a single hesitation for saying out loud. For a few seconds, I am petrified with several questions running through my head.
He's not a normal college student, I guess.
“Two hundred?” His forehead creases.
It was like a slap on the back, a huge resounding slap that could have displaced my thoracic cavity.
“Surely, you won’t be so indecisive if I make it a million dollars, will you?” He smiles again as he leans forward with fingers clasped together. “A million dollars, Angel, for sex. One night stand and you get cash right away straight from my pocket.”
He isn’t joking. I can see in his eyes that he wants it badly.
A million dollars? That’s a lifetime security, a house, and even luxurious vacation trips. It’s going to be a major help for Dad’s medical bills, and we might start a new business with it. I could already see dollar signs all over Damien. The sound of it is more than a melody to my ears.
A million dollars…
Free from debts…
A solution to Dad’s problems…
What an easy way to secure it, I guess!
“Already tempted?” He grins.
I shake my head.
“No!” I steadfastly answer.
No way in hell.
But why is there a little regret, a little pain, a little hesitation when I uttered that answer?
“Still no, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” His face lightens up.
“I mean, yes it’s still a no.”
“Very well then.” I can see controlled annoyance on his face.
I bite my lip as though preventing my tongue from taking back my answer. Damien notices as he narrows his eyes and waits for a couple more seconds to see if I change my mind.
“You know where to find me,” he says as he stands from his chair. “Let me remind you about de Vere. Google isn’t enough.” He lets out another haughty but reserved smile before he struts out of the cafeteria.
So his offer is still on.
Shit, I almost said yes there.
A million dollars! How can I sleep tonight with that thing in my mind? Imagine how all my worries will dissolve if I get hold of that money.
A million dollars for one night! I feel myself hyperventilating and my heart
crushing for letting this huge opportunity slip by. I can make everything okay tonight. With these three letters, I could seal my future and my family’s destiny.
His credit card is left on the table. I have no idea if he left it purposely or not, but I guess it serves as a sign that Damien and I are bound to meet again.
The next time we see each other, will I still give the same answer? If he asks me again, will the same drive to reject him overpower me? With a little push further, I would have definitely given in.
My phone rings while I am in the middle of contemplating whether I did the right thing or not.
“Angel?” Mom’s voice sounds panicky. My heart races every time I hear the passing of air from her shaking lips.
“Mom?” I quickly lean against the counter table in case I hear bad news, and I lose my balance.
“Angel, your dad is in the hospital.”
Chapter 4: Hanging by a Thread
I feel my heart banging at the corners of my chest, counting from one to a hundred in every long stride I make. With the loud beating of my heart and the swirling of my vision, I feel like I am flying. The walls seem to squash me, its daintiness giving me unwanted worry. There’s just something about hospitals that I hate. I can’t explain what it is, but I never want to be here. Running through its wide and long corridors with several doors gives me this unnerving fear.
Though Mom didn’t really sound that panicky, she might just be suppressing anxiety to avoid alarming me.
“Dad?”
I slam the door open, gasping for air. My eyes go straight to a man reclining his back on the bed.
“Angel,” he calls me, flipping his hand and smiling at me as though he feels no pain. Mom was standing at the bedside still wearing that unfaltering look, her worry hidden by a reserved smile.
“Hi,” a man, tall, lean, and blond calls my attention. “You must be Angel.” He smiles at me.
He’s the doctor. It’s pretty much obvious as he’s wearing a tie and a long white doctor’s gown. In his hands is a computer tablet which probably contains Dad’s medical records.
“I’m Eric Martin.” He offers his hand for a handshake and gives me a gaze I find rather strange for a first meeting. He smiles and looks at me as though he is inside a bar hitting on girls. I suddenly remember Etheridge.