Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Sunday was usually the slowest and the laziest day of the week for me. Adam Levine’s ‘Sunday Morning’ would blast off my phone at exactly 9 AM, forcing me to rise from the bed to turn it off. I would walk out of my room with my eyes half-closed, the smell of fried bacon, scrambled eggs, and brewed coffee making my mouth water instantly. I would then rush to the bathroom to wash my face and take a pee, my grumbling stomach nagging me to hurry. Jan would sit at our tiny dining table, munching on a piece of bacon, her eyes glued to one of the romantic novels she had randomly picked from her collection. At the kitchen counter, I would fill my mug with coffee and my plate with four strips of bacon, two pieces of pandesal, and a tiny hill of scrambled eggs. If Mel was around, she would do the same and join us at the table. Jan would put down her book and we would all start talking about everything and nothing.

None of these were happening right now. Instead, I was sitting on a stranger’s bed, still unable to believe that I slept two nights in a row in a strange man’s house. Well, he wasn’t really ‘strange’. But he was still a stranger to me. All I knew was that his name was Nick, and was kind enough to take care of me after finding me unconscious in an alley. Thinking of the events that led to it was painful, physically painful. It was as if there was a barrier in my brain, a blank wall that was preventing me from seeing past it. And every time I tried to concentrate, I would see nothing more than jumbled and blurred images. What remained strong was the feeling of danger, of barely escaping a life-threatening situation. It bothered me, this inability to remember. My nearly photographic memory was my best asset. Why was it failing me now?

With a sigh, I reached for my bag and searched for one of my spare scrunchies, as I seemed to have lost the one I was wearing the other day. I was about to slip a red one into my hair when my fingers brushed against my nape and found something peculiar. There were two slight bumps near the base of my neck. The skin there was tender and hurt a little. Curious, I quickly tied my hair in a bun and grabbed my phone. I turned the camera on and with a bit of maneuvering took a picture of my nape.

“What the hell?” I said, staring at the two pinprick marks. They were red and swollen, but almost healed. What could’ve made them? Oh, my god, was I injected with something? Did someone drug me? Is it why I couldn’t remember what happened to me? My skin crawled at another thought. What if they raped me?

Thinking back, I realized that aside from saying he found me unconscious in an alley, Nick hadn’t really told me much. Was I naked when he found me? I thought, glancing down at the loose T-shirt and pajama pants I was wearing. The cuff was folded several times, while the shirt was too loose and too long. Why didn’t I notice I wasn’t wearing my own clothes when I woke up last night? And where were my clothes? I jumped out of bed and was on the way to the door to search for them when I noticed my jeans, shirt, and jacket were folded neatly on the seat of the maroon armchair.

“Dang! Did he wash my clothes, too?” I muttered, picking up the jacket. It smelled good, better than it did before. I snatched them all up and swiftly changed into them. After straightening the bedsheets, I placed the borrowed clothes on top of the velvety cover.

“Good morning. I’m glad you’re already up.”

I practically jumped at his voice. Thankfully, I remembered that this was his house, or else I would’ve screamed curses to his face. When I turned to glare at him, he was already sitting in the maroon armchair.

“How did you do that? Why didn’t I hear you coming in?” I said before I could stop myself.

What I actually wanted to ask was how long he had been sitting there. The room was still dark, having left the thick drapes closed. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I felt the amusement in his stare.

“You were busy mulling over your clothes,” he replied.

My cheeks flamed at the reminder. Oh, my god. Was he the one who—

“Don’t worry. I didn’t undress you. I asked a friend to do it for me. A female friend,” he said before I could even finish my thought. I noted the way he emphasized the word female in a slightly mocking tone. Was he laughing at my embarrassment?

“Well then, thank you for the consideration,” I said, not a bit amused.

He huffed and rose to his feet. “Come, I’ll take you home,” he said, walking out the door without even looking at me.

There was nothing else to do but follow him, of course. I didn’t want to give the impression that I wasn’t eager to leave. His unit turned out to be bigger than I expected. It was easily four times the size of ours, yet it looked bare and hardly lived in. It was as if he only used this place for sleeping. There were only three items in the large lounge area—a sofa, a chaise, and a wingback chair. Even the walls were bare. There were no paintings, mirrors, or pictures to break the starkness of the white marble.

“This way, Mira,” he said, calling my attention to the open door.

With a nod, I walked past him, brushing off the shiver of pleasure I felt when he said my name. I was again surprised to find that there were no other doors in the hallway. His unit was the only one on this floor. It made me wonder at the man walking in front of me, leading me to the elevator. If he could afford this place, why didn’t he even bother to decorate? Maybe he just moved in, I told myself.

Before long, we were stepping into the elegant and spacious elevator. He seemed hesitant to get in at first; like he was bracing himself for something. When he finally did, he stood far away from me and leaned against the wall. His eyes were closed, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He must be claustrophobic, I decided. If he was, he shouldn’t have bought a penthouse suite. I silently scolded myself for the unkind thought. Everyone has his own issues.

The elevator didn’t stop on any floors, making me think it was only for his own use. As we rode down in deafening silence, a million questions were running through my mind. It didn’t seem like the best time to ask them, though. Not when he looked like he was in pain. When the elevator stopped at the basement, he bolted like the very devil was after him. I felt a sudden urge to comfort him, but I doubted if he would’ve appreciated it. A powerful man like him wouldn’t want a woman to witness his moment of weakness, no matter how valid it was.

He was walking too fast; I had to run after him. When he stood beside a two-door black BMW convertible, my heart fluttered. I didn’t know what model it was; I wasn’t really into cars, but I’d always wanted to ride in a convertible.

“Get in,” he said rather gruffly.

“I could just take an Uber, you know,” I said, but slid into the car just the same.

“Too late. Now, fasten your seatbelt,” he said as he put on a pair of dark sunglasses.

Soon we were driving out of the basement and into the street. I was a little dismayed when he didn’t put the top down. It would’ve been nice to feel the wind on my face. Oh, well, it was still better than an Uber, I thought, glancing out the window. Its tint was so dark, however, it was better to just look up front. Only then did I recognize the streets. We were in BGC, it would be a short drive to my place.

“Do you know where One Pacific Plaza is?” I said.

He nodded and continued to drive like I wasn’t even there. I decided this was a good time to ask questions. But before I could open my mouth, he turned the car stereo on and set the volume on high, even though it was a bit too loud for the confined space. I slouched back in the astonishingly soft leather seat and stared morosely ahead. Why was he so unwilling to discuss what happened to me? Well, he said he didn’t want to get too involved. Maybe this was his way of staying detached. Or maybe he didn't really know what happened before he found me. It was a plausible explanation. Maybe whoever attacked me had already left when he arrived at the scene.

Either way, I would find out. Hopefully, it wasn’t because he was trying to distance himself from me, though. Because whether I cared to admit it or not, I wanted to know him better and didn’t want this to be our last time together. I still had to repay him for taking care of me, right? How was I going to do that if he disappeared from my life? Unfortunately, that wasn’t up to me, was it? And with the way he was acting, I’d say he’d rather be elsewhere than here with me. Which was exactly the opposite to what I was feeling. Being this close to him, sensing the raw power emanating from him, and getting enveloped in his unusually heady scent, I wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else. Ignoring his grouchy demeanor, I indulged myself in a little daydream. One where he was smiling at my inane jokes and enjoying every bit of my company. It made the ride a little better. Unfortunately, every time I glanced at my dashing escort, reality would come crashing down, smashing my daydream to smithereens.

Once we reached One Pacific, I half-expected him to drop me off and drive away without a backward glance. Instead, he asked me where he could park. Hiding my surprise (and glee), I told him he could take Mel’s parking spot as I knew she was out of town. I would have suggested taking the stairs instead of the elevator, but I didn’t want him to know I noticed his fear of enclosed spaces. And since he was the first one to walk into the elevator, I let the matter go. The ride up to my floor was tense. I was itching to bombard him with questions, yet afraid to break into his thoughts. It was the most awkward seven-minute elevator ride of my life. He was again first to step out, but this time he didn’t act like he had Satan riding on his coattails. He stepped aside to let me through, following closely behind when I walked down the hallway towards the place I shared with Jan.

I was rummaging for my keys when the door flew open, revealing a super-excited Jan. She was trying hard not to look at Nick, even though her neck had extended to almost twice its length. It was so silly I almost burst out laughing.

“Hey,” I said as I stepped inside, biting my lip to keep my laughter at bay. Jan was still gaping at Nick. I shook my head and walked past my stupefied friend.

“Hello, I’m Nick,” he said, nodding at Jan, a tiny smile curling the corners of his mouth. It made my heart do somersaults.

“Oh, yeah, hello. I’m Jan, Mira’s friend and one of her flatmates. Come in, come in,” Jan said, as she spun on her heel and walked towards me, silently mouthing

“OMG! He’s gorgeous!”

Nick stood outside the door, looking like he was debating with himself again. Was our unit too tiny, and he feared he would have another claustrophobic attack? Well, compared to his, ours could really trigger his phobia. But I couldn’t let him get away just yet. Without thinking, I padded up to him and grabbed his hand, startled by how cold it was. He flinched at the contact and tore his hand away from mine like my touch caused him pain. I should feel offended by the gesture, but I chalked it up to his previous phobia attack.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come inside,” I said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, come on, just get in, will you?”

Again, he wavered. “Are you sure?” he said, his eyes staring at me with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “Do you really want me to come in?”

I found the question strange but didn’t want to over-analyze it. “Yes, of course! It’s not much, I know, but it’s cozy. Please, just come inside, Nick, I won't bite."

It took a heartbeat for his expression to change from wary to amused, making me wonder what I said to cause it.

“Just remember, I did warn you,” he said as he walked through the door, an enigmatic smile curling his lips.

A sudden chill went down my spine, as if warning me to take his word seriously. It would take several weeks before I would understand the consequences of my somewhat innocent invitation.

And the true reason behind Nick’s mysterious smile?

It wasn’t even close to what I had in mind.