☘︎ Jᴇɴɴɪғᴇʀ Rʏsᴏɴ ☘︎

Silence stretches like a gum in the luxurious confines of the tesla, as I swivel the car into a suburban neighborhood in Brooklyn at half an hour distance from Manhattan where Davidson Villa is situated.

"You live in the suburbs?" Lykas' finally breaks the ice, his tone surprised. He glances outside the passenger-seat window at the cozy houses with their little gardens lining both sides of the vacant road.

"So he speaks!" I chide satarically, keeping my gaze trained on the road.

From the corner of my eyes, I see Lykas' body turn sideways to face me. He blinks as if in wonder, his lips twitching in amusement, "Is that sarcasm I hear, Ryson?"

I don't bother answering and turn the car into the right lane. In a manner of seconds, the neighborhood of sleek mansions welcomes us and Lykas slumps back in his seat.

"I knew those cute houses were too homey-domey for you." He sighs dramatically, a fleeting smile lingering on his lips before he looks away at the scenery outside, the smile lost.

It bothers me. He'd remained uncharacteristically quiet the whole ride here. I don't expect him to cry or sulk or throw a tantrum, heck I shut myself up whenever too much of my emotions threaten to leak out.

But I remember the way David had gripped his neck so hard, I know it was painful. If not that, Lykas had flinched everytime David's hold grew tighter and yet he just stood there, not ridding himself free of his father's death hold.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel, the tesla coming to a halt in front of a modern two-storey, sleekly built mansion with grey brick walls and black glass windows.

Lykas straightens in his seat taking in the architecture before getting out of the car robotically to come to my side of the door. He opens the door for me only to find me scowling at him. Not being bothered by the scowl, he simply grabs my hands and pulls me out of the car's seat, shutting the door behind.

"What's that house for?" Lykas points at the twin house next to mine, in the same yard.

"Guest house. My assistant Viviane and the bodyguards live there during their time off and at nights when I was in Davidson Villa." I explain and when I see the slight panic on his face he tries very hard to conceal, I quickly add, "You should stay in my house if you don't want them to notice you or ask questions. No one will bother you."

Another small smile touches his mouth, this time genuine and thankful, "Lead the way then, Ryson."

The moment we're inside the black and white interior of the house, Lykas flops down on a velvet settee spread across the living room. Tilting his head backwards, he rests the back of his head on the couch and shuts his eyes. His hair frames his forehead and silken short strands drape over the velvet surface, their midnight colors mingling.

Shaking my head, I leave him be and turn towards the stairways, "There's a guest room in the left wing of the second floor. You can sleep there. I'll leave you be-"

"Jennifer," Lykas' voice is so soft that for a moment, I'm not sure whether he really called me.

Rotating around, I look at him. And there he is, no longer with his eyes shut and head resting against the couch. He stares deeply at me, his eyes holding a horde of emotions. He opens his mouth as if to say something then shuts up.

"What is it?" I ask, making my way over to the couch.

Lykas continues staring for a minute longer before looking down at his hands on his lap, "Look, I really appreciate you defending me earlier. But. . ." He takes a deep breath, "You don't know my father. He will hold a grudge against you because of this. Because of me."

By the time he's done with the words, I'm standing in front of him, my arms crossed, "What to do you want to say exactly?"

Lykas looks up in surprise, as if he didn't notice me approaching. He clears his throat, "I just. . .please don't try to be on my side next time. I don't want you getting in me and my father's crossfire. He's dangerous and I can't have him come at you because you stood up for me. I won't."

My arms fall to my sides with clenched fists as a wave of annoyance envelops my veins. I take a step ahead then another until my knees touch his.

Leaning closer so that I'm at a face-to-face level with Lykas sitting and me standing in front of him, I place a hand next to his frame on the couch's headboard, "You know what?"

Shaking his head in a no, Lykas nervously attempts to scratch the back of his neck but stops short at the contact with a wince.

My free hand goes up to the collar of his white shirt before he can protest and I tug at the material to get a view of the skin of his neck beneath. Bruised, red imprints of nails creating crescent shapes on his dusky skin.

One of Lykas' hands cover mine halting my inspection, "Stop it, Jenna." He breathes.

But there's fury building within me. I'm not even thinking straight when I push him back against the couch and straddle him, "Exactly, Lykas. Stop it."

"What-"

I don't let him speak, my index finger poking his chest gently but harshly to send a message, "You have to stop your father from doing this to you. Don't tell me you can't because you can. He might've been a martial arts medal winner but he's older. You've done your fair share of martial arts training yourself, everyone knows that. You're physically capable to outdo him. I'm not telling you to disrespect him, he's your father. But that doesn't give him the right to hurt you, you know that. And yet you stand and endure."

Lykas starts shaking his head, "You don't understand-"

I lift my other hand, placing it on his mouth to silence him. When I'm sure he isn't going to start interrupting again, I drop my hand and hesitantly let my hand linger on the side of his face, my thumb on his cheekbone.

Lykas looks at me so intently then, that for a moment I reconsider meddling with his life but my eyes catches sight of his reddened neck again and I think screw morals.

I gently hold his face between both my hands, "If you let people hurt you, no matter what the reason, it'll just make them think it's okay to do it when it's not. It's never okay to hurt anyone, physically or mentally. So. . ."

I tilt his face upwards by his chin, staring deep into his soul, "When someone hurts you, you don't back out. You don't think it's fine. You don't let go. What you do is show them that they do not get to raise a damn hand on you, that you will not be an object falling prey to their temper. You show them that if they hurt you, you can hurt them twice as back. That is what you do, not endure."

Lykas remains unmoving, peering at me with his whisky eyes, silent as ever. Then slowly, very slowly, his lips pull up into a smile so bright it hurts to watch him, "You're like a motivational saint."

Thus, the moment ruined by mere words.

Groaning, I chuck a throw-pillow from the couch at his face and attempt to get of off him in feigned annoyance, "You're hopeless."

Lykas is laughing hard when he grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me back the instant I stand on my feet. The suddenness of his action has me tripping on my balance and falling on him.

"Woah woah woah." Lykas immediately wraps an arm around my waist pulling me snug against his body in an attempt to steady me on his lap. My arms clutch his shoulder in pure reflex, my knees planting on the couch on either side of him and my face hovering at the crook of his neck.

Blinking in surprise once I'm settled, I inch back a little to glance at him. Lykas goes wholly still and that is the moment I realize the precarious position we're in-me straddling his lap, his arms around me and our bodies almost glued together.

My gaze studies him, from the whisky colour of his eyes to his straight nose, flickering down to those cushiony lips. I can feel his thudding heartbeat, see the light flush of red spreading across his defined cheekbones. My grip on his shoulders clench the slightest bit at the way he looks at me through lowered lashes. As though he hasn't seen anything more beautiful.

"Jenna. . ." He doesn't say the word, he breathes it.

"Yeah?" My hands loosen from his shoulders, sliding down his neck and then ever so slowly slithering upto his face.

"You said my name for the first time today." His arms tighten around me as one of my hand tangles into the softness of his hair.

My lips twist in amusement at his declaration, forming the starting of smile, "Didn't know you were keeping note."

"I keep note of everything when it comes to you." He sighs, more like a self-realization then a reply and I can't help but feel something at that.

"Oh." I say dumbly, confused with the tiny something of emotion.

Lykas lifts a hand from around my waist and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, "Yeah." He's smiling and somehow inching closer.

My grip tightens in his hair, a hand resting on his cheek when I find myself being pulled nearer. I angle his face and let his lips beckon mine-

A loud doorbell has us jolting apart, untangling our limbs from each other in such a rush, one would think we were committing felony. Oh God, what the hell were we about to do?!

"I'll check who it is." I stand up in a hurry, a foreign blush heating my cheeks as I fumble with my hair and gesture at the door.

Lykas looks dazed, but more than that amused by my reaction and even though a part of me wants to scowl, the other wants to dissappear from sight.

Ding dong.

Right. And answer that damn door.

Despite the onslaught of sudden jitteryness, I stalk to the door completely poised, as poised as a woman who almost kissed her business rival could be.

Entering the digital passcode, when the door opens, a tall female figure shoves past me with a huff, pulling two suitcases along.

"Really, Jennifer?! Getting arrested?! You could've told me first and I'd have handled it in advance. The employees, shareholders and investors are going wild because they want answers. The media wants answers. Some anonymous idiotic source fed the press bullshit about you having committed a past crime. I don't understand why you are the main target when clearly you weren't the only one who got arrested. Can't even tell people you went to jail to fulfill a bucket list. Why are people so annoying?!" She releases her suitcases and places her hands on her hips in exasperation.

"But but, because I'm wonderful, I already theorized damage control. That means I'm really sorry, amour, but you're going to the Davidson Group's annual party to socialize and make it clear to every tycoon present that it was a misunderstanding why the fucking cop who has no brains arrested you-" Her endless rant comes to dramatic pause the moment she notices we aren't alone.

Her brown eyes widen, plump lips gaping as she takes in Lykas lounging on the couch, looking messily attractive. She turns to me flabbergasted, the golden lighting of the house making her beautiful dark skin and luscious curls of a hair appear like a goddesses.

Her eyes ping-pong between me and Lykas and back again before she raises her arms in the air in stunned surprise, "What in the multi-verse?!"

I can't stop but conclude the whole situation is somehow hilarious. But for the sake of introduction, I gesture at the fire-breathing beauty and say,

"Lykas, meet Siya. My wonderful HR and PR manager."

--------᪥♔︎᪥-------

Y'all know the drill by now;
Calm before the storm. No-drama before the drama. That's all I'm gonna say🌚

Lemme know your thoughts on the chapter and try not to virtually massacre me for breaking the kiss scene🤪👍

Also also, letting y'all TSH won in the mystery/thriller category under jury selection of 'the soul awards' which is amazing! Be right back, crying🚶‍♀️