Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Kyle's P.O.V

The minute Jon parks the car in front of the house, Marcy scrambles out of the car and dashes into the house.

"Anne!" I yell after her but she is already gone.

Fuck.

Jon climbs out of the car and hands me the keys.

"Thanks a lot, Jon. I really appreciate." I say and he nods.

"Of course, Mr. Robinson. See you tomorrow." He says and leaves.

The house is awfully quiet when I walk in, but not completely. Her faint sobbing from upstairs is almost crystal clear to me and I'm nearly used to the guilt I feel every time I hear or see her cry.

Maybe I shouldn't have let her leave.

Maybe should have taken her advice and locked her up in a basement.

Anything that could have stopped her from going out with him.

But I didn't want her to think I was still trying to control her...And now look what I've done.

"Anne." I say, standing outside her door. The sound of her crying only reminds me of when I'd had her strip in my bedroom, which makes me feel worse.

I'd made her feel nothing less than a person meant to serve.

Meant to be used to satisfy someone else's pleasure.

And just when I'm trying to make things better with her, Gray puts her back in the same position.

"Anne." I say and knock again.

"Anne, please open the door."

"Go away." Comes her tearful reply.

I sigh and lean against the door.

Comforting a woman is the hardest thing. Then again, I've never been put in the position to do so, especially with the image of my social life.

Count a few dollars and they're smiling.

Give them a night and they're satisfied.

Atleast that's the reaction I get from every lady I've met...excluding Ronnie. With her as my sister, I was certain there wasn't much of them.

Strong willed women.

Stubborn and determined.

And then comes Marcella Anne, with her determined spirit and stubborness.

I'm positive if I offer to buy her something, she'll open the door just to spit in my face.

And that won't help either of us. So here I am at her door, thinking of the right words to say.

"I had no idea that he would go this far with you." I say.

Still crying.

"He is an asshole. I know he is no better than me because, I'm an asshole. I put you in this position before and you just suffered it again......"

Her crying stops.

"Okay, that's not helping. Listen....um...."

Blast. What the devil can I say now?

I draw in a deep breath and try again,

"I guess you can tell, I'm terrible at this."

"Its not your fault. Don't bother yourself in trying to make me feel better. This is my mistake." Her sobbing reply comes through the door.

"It's not a bother. And I'm not here because you accepted to have a life out of this house, even though it turned out to be a mistake. If anything, I probably pushed you to it by making you feel like a peasant. I'm here because I feel terrible you ended up in that kind of position....again. I know how hurt you felt before and--"

"You don't know anything. You just think you do because you heard my pity story."

"You're right, I don't. Okay? But if what I'm thinking isn't even up to half of the hurt you're feeling, then I know that you're hurting. And I'm sorry. Im sorry you end up with assholes like Gray and I. I'm sorry you're hurting because guys like us exist." I say and wait for her reply.

There is just silence on the other side.

I don't know if I've actually succeded in laying out how remorseful I feel...but then again, I don't know what else to do.

That's practically everything I want to tell her, but I want to do more.

I feel the need to do more.

I feel responsible to make sure she is okay.

It's an unfamiliar feeling.

And with this feeling, I don't feel in control. Not in control of my response, not in control of my words. Somehow her reactions control me now.

I need a break.

Sighing, I walk away from her door and leave the house.

As I near the pool outside, I take off my jacket, shoes and trousers. Now, standing above it, all I want to do is just sit by the edge and stare at my reflection.

I drop to a sitting position with my legs in the water and stare at my reflection.

I don't need to do so for long to realize I'm definitely troubled.

What has gotten into me?

When did I start giving a fuck about people.

About my actions.

About her.

Why the hell am I so concerned?

'You think I'm a dog that does tricks for treats?'

She had demanded at the club. First to reject my money...even though she was a stripper.

And just the thought that one woman wasn't in my control with money, had changed everything.

Then I found out she was the stripper and wanted to prove that if she wanted the money,

I controlled the money.

So I controlled her.

Then it all backfired. And I can never forget that day. And now....I suddenly can't live with myself. Not until I know she is no longer hurting or hating me for it.

For the first time, I regret my actions.

Because of her. The one I can't control, even with a bloody contract.

The sound of padding feet draws my attention back to the present and I turn now.

She has a robe on, and God-knows-what underneath and I watch as she approaches with a little hesitation.

"Do you mind if I join you, Mr. Robinson?" She asks and I just shrug.

Slowly, she sits next to me and deeps her legs in the pool.

The night is quiet, except for the sound of sloshing water coming from the slow movement of her feet in the water.

"You didn't have to apologise,  you know." She says, breaking the silence of the night and suddenly making me nervous because now I have to hold a normal conversation without sex involved and not work related.

I'm so fucked.

Marcy's P.O.V

"You didn't have to apologise, you know." I say to Mr. Robinson that has his eyes fixed on the water.

He is silent and moves his gaze to the sky. It's almost as if I'm not here.

"Why not?" He asks, just when I thought he wasn't going to reply. His gaze is still fixed in the sky.

"Well, because--"

"Because you didn't want to forgive me just yet?"

"Wha-"

"You want to maintain the bad and terrible image of me?"

I do a double-take.

"What are you talking about? Why would you say that?" I say and he sighs deeply as his gaze drops to the water and he rakes a hand over his perfectly combed hair. It tumbles out of it's perfect position and falls in toussled shambles.

"I didn't mean it. I...I just..." he trails off and I watch as he turns to me.

"What are you even doing here anyway?" He asks and I blink endlessly at the out-of-the-blue question.

"Well, I um....I also have an apology to make." I mutter and look away from his scrutinizing gaze.

I can feel his gaze linger on me a little longer.

What? I don't have a better excuse of being here, okay?

Unless you want to include that shocking yet surprisingly touching apology you gave.

Somehow, it made me realise he was human afterall.

And suddenly I needed company and thought I could hold a conversation with him without cowering.

"You still hate me, don't you?"

He asks and I frown at him but his gaze is back on the water.

"I never hated you."

He is already giving a skeptical look.

"Its one thing for me to lie to myself and think you didn't hate me and live with the guilt. It's another thing for you to lie to me and say you never hated me."

I blink at his words, confirming my thoughts of earlier.

He is human afterall.

"I didnt hate you...not exactly. Did I wish for terrible things to happen to you? Yes. But then you came to my help when I needed--"

"It was nothing." He mutters.

"It was everything. I had already judged you in my mind and to me you were just like Alex. I doubted you would come but you did. Which is why I want to apologise." I say and gather up the courage to look him in the eye.

"I said terrible things today before I left and I'm really sorry. Your social life is non of my business and I should have respected that." I say and his expression remains blank.

I take a deep breath and prepare to say the second apology.

"Also, at the hospital--"

"I know." He says, maintaining eye contact.

"But--"

"The stuff you said about me to your brother. You know, my moral instincts backwards...worst behaviour, worst timing."

"Oh my God." I mutter, completely embarrassed and disappointed.

"I am so sorry. I was just acting out and overreacting--"

"Its okay." He says as he looks away and plants his gaze straight ahead.

"I should have treated you better." He says softly, almost a murmur and I stare in awe, still not believing he is the one saying this.

"Atleast you don't hate my guts anymore. And I'm guessing you still don't want an apology gift."

"No."

I was already shaking my head before he could finish the sentence.

"Your apology meant a lot to me and that's enough." I say and look up, only to find his eyes on me. They are a soft blue, almost like the water and not the cold colour they usually are.

With his hair toussled, his eyes soft and his body covered in only a white t-shirt and shorts, he looks completely different.

He looks like a Kyle...not Mr. Robinson with his harsh rules.

"Maybe you could do something that would be enough for me, besides apologising." He says with a raise of his brow and I give him a look.

"You're kidding." I say and he just shakes his head slowly, eyes fixated on me.

"I just have one request." He says and naturally, I panic when he has a 'request' for me.

But it feels like I'm meeting him for the first time, and I want to know.

"What?" I say, matching his low tone.

"I want to see what your hair looks like when it's down. You always have it in that perfect bun." He says even lower, maintaining eye contact.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears but....it's not fear.

No, it's...

Different.

That's all I can say...different.

Before I can respond to his request, he reaches for my hair, still maintaining eye contact as I feel his fingers smoothen over the top of my hair till it comes in contact with the bun.

Then in a swift movement, he takes off my hair band and my hair comes tumbling down my shoulders. I had curled it earlier today for the date and it still feels smooth on my shoulders.

His fingers run through my hair in softlike manner and the teasing movement tickles my scalp in a most sensational way.

I let my eyes flutter close at his touch.

"Its beautiful." He says softly just as his hand moves from my hair to the side of my face, caressing my cheek.

His voice sounds closer and when I open my eyes, his face is hovering over mine and our eyes connect.

His eyes are no longer a soft blue but a dark navy and just as soon as I notice it, he blinks and it's gone.

He is suddenly an arms length away and I have to blink severally to snap back as well.

Oh, God. What just happened?

Mr. Robinson has his eyes back on the water and I know it's time for me to leave.

"I should get goi--"

I don't get to finish my sentence because the minute I grasp the edge of the pool and attempt to stand up, my hand slips on the slippery edge and I fall in, screaming.

I can't swim.

I can't swim.

I can't swim.

The panicking words echo in my head as I sink deeper, all the while struggling to push myself up which only results in more sinking.

Everything is happening at once.

Panic forces me to open my mouth and scream but all that comes out is a muffle of bubbled noise and I can feel more air leaving my lungs.

Water rushes in to my mouth, forcing it's way down my throat as I struggle to swim and scream.

I don't feel the bottom of the pool but instead, a pair of strong arms around my waist and I'm suddenly hoisted up.

A few seconds later, I'm sputtering and coughing with my back flat on the ground.

"Its okay. It's okay." He is saying as his hand smoothly touches my face and he carefully tucks my hair to the side.

I blink my eyes continuously till his face is clear. I can tell he is bare chested now because I can feel his chest pressed against my breasts which feel bare as well. My robe is wet and bundled in the corner along with his t-shirt.

My silk nightie is wet and clinging to my body just as a cool, night breeze blows softly, toying with his wet, toussled hair.

But I'm too aware of his eyes. The darkest shade of blue, heady with naughtiness and desire. With our breathing heavy, bodies wet, I let desire toy with me too.

Desire that I have so long buried for years.

So when I feel my nipples press against his chest, I let the moan escape just as he groans and dips his head.

His lips linger a hair breadth away from mine, torturing me. Then he covers the space and our lips make contact. His lips speak passion and desire as they move with mine in desirable rhythm.

"Mmmm...." He groans as he bites and teases my lower lip. His grasp on my waist tightens as he pulls me closer, kissing me deeper.

Then slowly, the kiss comes to an end and he rests his forehead on mine as we both try to control our breathing.

Suddenly, he pulls away a little more, enough for our eyes to meet and I can see the horror in his eyes.

They're back to normal blue, tainted with shock and I can feel his expression reflect on my face.

Oh my goodness.

What have I done?

Mr. Robinson is still quiet and before he can fire me, I push him away and get up.

"I'm sorry." I say in a quivering voice as I pick my wet robe and flee.