Chapter 4. Dragged to Him

I didn't go to the library today, fearing him. How did my life end up like this? First, that party, and now this harassment yesterday. It's all too much to handle at once. Why do I still keep any connection with Sophie?

What was the need for me to have any connection with Sophie? I'll fall apart. I shouldn't involve myself in the affairs of these wealthy people. Oh God, what will become of me now? What should I do? Will he do it again, or was it just because he was drunk yesterday? I should tell my mom.

I went towards the kitchen. I don't usually talk to my mom. I saw how tired she looked. There were bags under her eyes, showing her exhaustion. How could I add more stress to her? Things have become so much harder for her since Dad was gone.

*****

Nothing happened for the next few days. Sophie didn't show up again.

I buried myself in work, trying not to think too much. But throughout the day, I kept noticing a fancy car parked outside the library among the overgrown vegetation around the building. It stood out among the other cars.

It didn't belong, and something about it sent a chill down my spine. I tried to ignore it. But as I left the library at the end of the day, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black suit stepped out of the car.

"Get in."

I glanced around, but there was no one nearby.

"You. Girl. Get in." He said, pointing at me with a poker face.

"No," I replied firmly.

Without hesitation, he produced a gun and pointed it at me.

"Your way or my way." he said.

I got in the car. He drove in silence and stopped before a mansion. I wondered whose it was. Is it Eric? Is he after me again?

The man pushed me roughly out of the car and led me in.

*****

"Boss, she's here."

The man announced and pushed me forward.

I observed Eric, leaning against his desk, hands crossed, lost in thought. As he glanced up, my heart skipped a beat.

"Leave now," Eric ordered. "Close the door."

Although big, this room feels small now that I'm alone with him.

"Your expression is quite amusing." He chuckled.

The face of someone begging for mercy out of fear is amusing to him. He's a psychopath. I fear for my safety.

"Please don't rape me."

"Girl, I have no intentions of doing so. I'm not some sort of sex maniac," he said, his gaze drifted lazily around the room before returning to me with a calculated focus. "That night, I was angry, frustrated, intoxicated... and yes, horny."

"Are you apologizing? An apology won't erase the trauma of harassment."

Despite my words, his denial brought me a measure of relief. At least there would be no harm to me now.

Eric remained silent, sighing deeply.

"I'm not exactly apologizing. You interrupted me, even if there was a possibility you'd ruin it."

He pushed himself off the desk, making me step back in alarm.

He chuckled at this.

"What? I can't even move without you jumping like a startled grasshopper?"

He approached me as he talked. I lowered my gaze to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, focusing instead on his polished shoes as they moved closer. He stopped a few feet away.

"Look at me," he said, his tone soft yet commanding.

Reluctantly, I lifted my eyes to meet his. Noticing my unease, he smiled at me. I despised that smile—the way people looked at me as if I were a joke. Who gave them the right to decide my worth?

"I saw your video," he said.

Hearing this, I couldn't help it any longer. A choked sob escaped my lips, tears finally escaped my eyes, and I broke down crying.

Eric's expression softened, his brow furrowing as he contemplated something. He seemed to pity me, a rare occurrence that I welcomed. I liked it when people pitied and took care of me. It didn't happen often; mostly, I was shunned. At least I was getting some positive attention now.

I didn't care how weird my face must look while crying. I found it hard to breathe due to snot. Without a handkerchief or long sleeves for comfort, I resorted to using the fabric near my collar to wipe away the tears and mucus.

"Disgusting," he remarked.

I felt hurt by his judgment and disdain, intensifying the sense of vulnerability and embarrassment. There was silence in the room, and only my sobs could be heard. I hoped he would let me go after pitying me.

"I'm still angry about how you got away last time by hitting me in the leg," he stated, silencing my sobs instantly.

"I am sorry," I said, dreading the memory of that horrific night. "It was self-defense."

He just stared at me for a second, making me squirm. Then he moved back, giving me some space, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

He is walking sure a lot for someone whose leg I hit a few days ago. It's healed already?

Then, he leaned against the wall near the window, the lights from outside casting a faint glow on his angular features.

"Crawl up to here," I heard him say. Bewildered, I looked at him.

*****