His Control |18+

15| Senna Is Shitty

Balia's POV

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Senna made sure I got everything I wanted that same day, and when I told him I didn't need them immediately, he gave me a stern glance and reminded me that this was the only time I was going to step outside this month.

I hadn't been surprised by his words. I was used to his kind of person. I mean, it was only a few hours, but his brutality was enough for me to get used to.

Several bags were carried out by the attendants of the last shop we went to. I followed behind them with many bags in my arms, too. The car was too small for the bags, so we filled the trunk and the backseat with the bags. Senna took the passenger seat, and I sat at the back, at the edge of the door, as that was the only room left.

The drive back home was silent again. I watched Senna from where I sat at the back, wondering what kind of person he was. He had no personality, or maybe it was just me. He had this unfazed persona that never really faltered, so I could never really see through him.

What was his source of income? I had met him at the club, so I had no idea if he was a business tycoon or the sort. I guessed I was going to have to ask Tina all of that.

"Make a stop at the Italian Cuisine on the main street," Senna said as they approached the intersection.

The driver nodded and swerved into a street that was not so busy but had so much business. A few cars were driving in the same direction, and from what I could tell, these were expensive cars.

The cuisine was located at the end of the street before another turn.

Well, for someone who had lived in this city for three years, I knew nowhere. I had been limited by my demanding jobs and empty account that this place seemed like paradise. Somewhere that only belonged to elites.

The car was directed to a spot by the valet parking, who smiled politely at Senna when he climbed out. I followed suit, standing awkwardly by the door I had just closed as I watched the men exchange greetings.

Senna turned briefly to look at me before he began to walk away. I decided it was a silent communication for me to follow after him, and I did.

The restaurant was situated on the last floor of a three-storey building, and from outside, I could see the amber lights and low-hanging crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant area and giving chrome and glass ethereal gleams. A few people were seated around tables, talking and drinking wine while eating. I could tell that these people were stinking rich.

The chrome-framed glass rotating doors kept turning, and Senna walked through. I followed him, careful enough not to be hit by this door.

It would have been an embarrassing sight. Lord knew Senna would lock me up forever if I dared publicly embarrass him. He looked like someone who pursued perfection. So why the hell had he chosen me instead?

He stopped when he finally got into the restaurant and looked around. One of the servers who was just done serving a table saw Senna standing and looking around, and like she recognised who he was, she hurried towards where we stood with a smile.

"Mr Senna!" She said in a chirpy tone, which was more than usual. She was taller than usual with brunette hair and lips that a beautician had worked on. Were they fucking? Because it seemed like they were.

Well, what was my business?

He didn't seem too excited to see her anyway. Was he ever excited to see anyone? He was the typical representation of a stone. Unmovable.

"Did you reserve the table for me?" He asked in a curt tone.

Still smiling, the lady nodded. "Yes, I did. Your favourite spot."

"Good," Senna said and turned to me. "There's a table reserved for us both."

   "Oh, okay," I muttered, noticing that the eyes of the waitress rested on me. She was staring at me like I was some plague. That further confirmed my suspicions. They were genuinely fucking.

   "She's your new girlfriend?"

New girlfriend? The lady asked as she stared at me down. What was it with women and giving me a disdainful once over today? It was annoying that I could say nothing, even when I had a lot of nasty shit to say to this woman.

Senna raised his brows in askance. "Do I know your name?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, you do. Remember I told you the last time—"

He shook his head. "I don't remember your name, which means you're irrelevant. Next time, know your place as a waiter and keep to it, okay? Don't ask me questions like we're close."

Her face reddened in embarrassment, and she glanced at me before nodding at him and leading us towards the table she had reserved for us. I wanted to smile, but right now, there was nothing to smile about in my life. None of this was my business, and I intended on making it, not my business, too.

She smiled politely at Senna. "What can I get you?"

"A glass of pinot noir for now," He replied as he drew a chair for me to sit on. If we weren't in public, I would have ignored his gesture. But I nodded politely at him and smiled before slipping in and taking a seat. He took a seat and looked at me. "What would you be having for starters?"

"Just water," I said to the lady and smiled, but she didn't return it. If I was sure, she was glaring at me. But did I care? No.

She nodded. "You can choose what you'd be having while I prepare your drinks."

As soon as she left, Senna picked up the card. He was used to this because he did it so naturally.

As for me, I'd never been to a restaurant as expensive as this. I mean, take a look. White gleaming marble walls with golden veiny lines running through them, cold air softly kissing my skin.

A welcoming smell, dim lights that gave this area a warm atmosphere, soft jazz classics playing in the background, wine glasses clinking, low chatters and rich laughter. The sound of chrome cutlery hitting china plates, beautiful women and dresses, wealthy men who had the money to spend.

I didn't fit in here at all. Not one bit. I looked down at my dress. I had worn this yesterday and was wearing it again. I was sure that these people barely wore items of clothing once. I caught sight of a blonde lady sitting across from us. Her hair gleamed under the light and fell in beach curls around her shoulders.

A silver necklace with a diamond-encrusted pendant sat on her neck, and teardrop earrings— crystal or quartz, dropped from her ears, reflecting broken lights against the wall. Her skin was as smooth as milk, and she was sure they were soft, too.

I compared myself to her, which wasn't something I'd ever done. But this woman was beautiful while I was dressed in a plain pair of pants and tops with just a 24k gold earring and a steel necklace I had gotten as a gift from one of my friends I used to work with at the bar. That was all I had to my name.

My hair needed washing and taking care of. Not the thorough washing I had given it could compare to how perfectly made her hair was. It was the truth.

She was smiling at the man in front of her. He looked twenty years older than she was, and if I were a judgemental prick, I would have seen her as his escort. They were probably dating. She was with him because of his money and was waiting for the right time to bail after extorting him.

When I realised I was projecting my thoughts and ideas on the innocent woman, I felt a pang of guilt and turned my attention back to the card in front of me.

It was another type of confusion. These dishes weren't the regular ones I had or got from fast food. These were gourmet, made by cordon bleu of the highest order.

I saw Senna reading through the card with so much concentration. He knew what was on that card, and Lord knew I wouldn't waste this on a meal I would hate. I better ask him.

"Senna."

He looked up at me. "What?"

I swallowed and looked down at the card. "Do you know the best food on this menu card? I've never had any of them, so I don't know."