Forced To Love Him

CHAPTER 12

Uncertain of how to respond, I turned towards him, put my arm around his torso, and rested my head against his chest, cuddling him. "Sleep, Mr. Knight," I murmured. Feeling his arm around my waist, pulling me closer, he kissed my forehead, leaving a gentle smile on my face. Soon, sleep took over, and the complexities of the day faded into the serenity of the night.

"You are the biggest regret of my life, Shivaleeka."

"You are a mistake."

"How I wished you were never born."

"You took my wife away from me." I could feel my eyes tearing up.

"You are nothing but a mistake."

"No, no, no, no." I whispered 

"Darling, wake up, it's just a bad dream," I heard a distant voice.

"You are a mistake."

"No."

"Shivaleeka, wake up."

I opened my eyes with a jerk, looking around, only to realize it was a nightmare, more like a haunting memory from the past. Alexander gently wiped my tears, making me look at him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly. I shook my head. "Just hold me close, please," I pleaded, and the next moment, I was in his arms. I felt safe again, as if I were at home.

"You will never leave me, right?" I looked at him hopefully.

"How can I leave my life? How would I survive if I leave you? You mean the world to me," he assured me, wiping away my tears before they could fall. "Tell me, baby, what's bothering you? I can't stand to see you in tears. I would bring the whole world at your feet, but don't cry, my love," he said, making me smile through my tears.

"The whole world?" I asked playfully.

"Yeah, I don't give a damn about others. If you want something, you get it." his voice took on a dangerous tone, almost threatening.

"Just hold me close for tonight."

"Always." he said, and he kept whispering sweet nothings in my ears until sleep consumed me. In his arms, surrounded by his comforting words, I found solace, and the haunting memories of the night gradually faded into the gentle embrace of dreams.

The next morning, I woke up to the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains. As consciousness gradually returned, I found myself still in Alexander's arms, the warmth of his presence a comforting embrace. The remnants of the nightmare and the haunting memories had faded, replaced by a sense of security that lingered from the night.

Opening my eyes, I found Alexander already awake, watching me with a gentle smile. "Good morning, Little Tigress," he greeted, his voice carrying a tenderness that felt like a balm to my soul.

"Good morning," I replied, a small smile playing on my lips. The weight of the past seemed a little lighter in the dawn of a new day.

I woke up and went about my morning routine, only to realize I got my periods. I groaned in irritation. Changing into something comfortable, I looked at myself in the mirror, only to find a dark red mark on my neck, making me furious.

"Alexander, fucking Knight, you better tell me what's this," I yelled from the closet. He came running but stopped at the door, his worried expression turning into an arrogant smirk.

"Well, darling, that's called a hickey," he said, leaning against the door frame, crossing his arms. The smirk on his face only deepened, clearly reveling in the aftermath of his deeds.

"You are an asshole," I snapped at him.

"Happy realization," he replied arrogantly. This man was infuriating. I would get back at him one day.

"Fuck you, Mr. Knight."

"Please do, Mrs. Knight," he said, approaching me with slow, deliberate steps. I moved backward until my back touched the wall of the closet.

"What are you doing, Mr. Knight?" I asked, feeling a mixture of irritation and a hint of curiosity.

"What do you think, darling?" he whispered huskily, caging me between him and the wall.

His proximity stirred a complex blend of emotions within me—an undeniable spark of something else. The confined space of the closet heightened the intensity of the moment, and I found myself holding my breath.

He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to my ear. "You can't deny there's something between us, darling," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. His hand rested on the wall beside my head, creating an intimate enclosure.

A playful smile danced on his lips, and he continued, "But if you want me to behave, darling, I'll play nice."

I felt a mixture of frustration and a hint of amusement at his audacity. "Behave for once, Mr. Knight," I retorted, trying to maintain a facade of composure.

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through the confined space. "For now, maybe," he conceded, stepping back with a teasing glint in his eyes. The charged moment lingered, leaving an unspoken understanding in its wake.

As he exited the closet, I found myself sitting in a contemplative mood the inability to participate in my usual morning prayers due to my menstrual cycle hung in the air.

As I sat there, he approached with a serene expression. "What's on your mind, little tigress?" he asked softly.

"I can't offer my prayers to Mahadev during this time," I admitted, referring to the period of menstruation when certain religious practices are traditionally avoided.

A thoughtful expression crossed Alexander's face, and without a word, he gently took my hand  leading me to the entrance of the temple room. With a reassuring smile, he gestured for me to wait outside.

Without saying a word, he moved to the small altar adorned with a statue of Lord Shiva. He lit incense and candles, creating an ambiance of spiritual serenity. Closing his eyes, he began reciting the morning prayers with a genuine devotion that resonated in the room.

In that moment, I witnessed a beautiful blend of cultures — an Italian man, reciting prayers to an Indian deity, in a show of solidarity and understanding. It was an unspoken acknowledgment of the diversity we brought into our lives, and the acceptance that love could transcend religious and cultural boundaries.

As he finished the prayers, he turned to me with a soft smile. "I hope your Mahadev accepts these prayers on behalf of both of us," he said, his eyes reflecting a genuine respect for the traditions that shaped our identities.

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