Maniacally Yours! (Yours series 1)

5. Chapter 5

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IARA-(age 18)

Fuck...fuck...fuck..........FUCK! What did I do? Why did I have to call him of all the people?

"Well, do you know any other people?" The devil sitting on my left shoulder whispers with a smirk. They all seem to be on his side now, the dumb lot. 

And the kiss... 

I'd be lying if I denied the impact of that kiss, how beautifully our lips mold with each other. The lingering sensation still pulsates between my thighs.

I am struggling to maintain my sanity around him. Despite knowing each other for such a short period of time, he has already managed to bring out the darker aspects of my personality that I keep hidden deep within myself. The one I have been keeping safe, tucked into the deepest den of my soul.

It was more than enough that I couldn't ignore the fact that I was willingly entering into a ridiculous marriage to escape another. But now, if I can't even tolerate his presence for a mere few minutes, how will I manage this marriage?

And to make matters worse, I must also ensure that our arrangement seems genuine... Lee's associates are everywhere and if word gets out that our union is a hoax, it will not only tarnish his image but also jeopardize my carefully crafted plans to uncover the truth about my mother's death.

I am skeptical of her committing suicide. I would never believe that she would choose such a cowardly way out after everything she's been through.

My father has been playing the role of a doting husband all his life, but I am aware of the truth, and no matter how many times he makes me go through a mental diagnosis of stating the facts wrong. I know how he killed her in cold blood. Ruthlessly let her die.

Letting out a sigh, I feel slightly relieved from earlier. It sure was an amazing party with equally amazing twists.

Though the throbbing in my head persists, it has lessened to a manageable level compared to being unconscious on the bathroom floor. Memories resurface of how he forcibly entered my home and bedroom, carrying me to bed and feigning care by administering medication and giving me a gentle head massage.

Nobody would believe that an underground king, who kills for the fun of it, who brings the much older and stronger men to their knees with just his gaze, who pulled the trigger to kill his father was attending to my migraine.

I chuckle at the horrors of tonight, the way he held my closet open. And packed most of my things, leaving a few evening gowns. Not that I am a fan of those, they were not my style or choice of clothing. His words still ring in my head, "I will not pack anything that doesn't scream you, Iara. I know your style. My wife would never touch these monstrosities. I have a reputation."

How the fuck does a man who knows me from a few hours ago, know my style that not even my parents catch up?