Care to Command

23 Arabian Night

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Chapter 23

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It's been five days - or more like an eternity - since the whole 'daddy' incident.

And in these five days, Lucas has taken every miserable and inappropriate opportunity to make me want to kill myself.

It started off on Monday morning, when I logged into my account and saw an email chain with him and two others.

Lucasnumbertwo@gmail.com
Laylasdaddy@gmail.com

I'm not even going to go into detail on what the conversations included. Not like I responded. But it was quite impressive to see him work from three different accounts.

My dad; on the other hand, sent a melodramatic text to tell me how hurt he was.

Layla, the monster. The daughter that humiliated her father. After everything he's done for her.

Hurt. He's hurt. He's hurt.

Do I want to cry about it? Yes. Do I want him to take a look in the mirror and realize how much he's hurt me? Yes. Will he ever? Doubt it.

I'm glad to have 'Operation Crack Lucas' to distract me from it though.

Which is why I've constructed a bulletproof plan to make it succeed. No distractions. Just data collection.

First things first. Location.

There's this Arabic hookah bar and restaurant. Aside from the normal tables in the main area, it includes lounge areas by the walls. They're separated with sheer veils and each cocooned section has two small couches facing each other, with a low table between them.

Red and blue walls, gold lanterns and chandeliers, colorful pillows. I figured, it allows privacy for an interview without the formality.

Second. Attire.

No funny business means my hair is going up. A black button down with a black tank top.

Lastly. Most importantly. Absolutely zero drop of alcohol in my system. None. Nein. Net.

Except Lucas. Lucas needs to get drunk to answer my questions. Otherwise, I won't let him help me. And I need him to help me.

~

"Drink up. It's on me." I tell him when the waitress in a very short dress sets a glass of whiskey on our table. Lucas and I are seated across from each other on the couches.

The devil smirks. "Aren't you going to join me?"

"Nope." I shake my head, crossing my legs, ignoring the way his eyes fall on them.

He sighs and I try not to notice how his broad chest expands even more. How his deep breath reverberates. I reach for water. H2O. Did you know 60% of the human body is made out of water? So interesting.

Lucas lifts the glass to his lips, casts his dark lashes down as the amber liquid disappears. The crystal glass goes back on the table. I ask the waitress for another.

"What's with the outfit?" He quirks an eyebrow, arms stretches across the headrest.

"What about it?" I feign ignorance.

He scowls. "You're not drinking, you're dressed like a... slutty assistant. And you're squirming every five seconds. Is this some sort of a fantasy of yours?"