"Ahhoouchh!"

A screech pulls out of me and I winch in pain at the movement of my wrist.

"What happened?" I hear a deep urgent voice, and in the next moment I see Dakota towering over me in a flash.

His piercing green eyes desperately run all over my face, looking for any sign of distress while I pull my hand back and shake my head.

"Nothing." I tell him, my voice almost cracking, but I keep my expressions stoic. I refuse to expose my vulnerable side to him.

Dakota narrows his eyes at me. "Show me your hand." A four word command he asks me to follow.

I stare back at him with my rebellious gaze. If eyes could talk, mine would be showing two raised middle fingers right now.

"Stop being so stubborn and let me see it." His jaw clenches impatiently and he grabs my elbow, tugging me forward.

"Ahhhh!" I hiss in pain and instantly, his eyes widen with concern as he notices my pained expression.

In an instant, his dominant and arrogant demeanor softens as he approaches me with care. Frown deepens on his forehead as he takes my wrist gently in his hands and examines with a precise focus of a surgeon.

"Oow ow!" I let out a yelp as he slowly moves my wrist in circular motion, inspecting it with the careful eye of a medical professional.

"Your wrist is sprained a little coz of the twist and lack of blood flow." He informs me and before I could place the blame on him, he disappears for a few minutes and comes back with a first-aid kit.

"You can't even handle a little roughness. You are fragile like a snowflake." Dakota taunts me as he makes me sit on the high stool and holds my hand again.

"Careful, mister. Snowflakes make avalanche." I tell him fiercely, and his green eyes snap up at me with a glint of surprise in them.

"Even if I am fragile, I can still kill you with my other hand." The fire inside of me warns him of the heat.

The corner of lips pull up in a smile which says I-am-impressed. However, it quickly fades away as he whispers darkly, "I have my doubts.. You can't kill a dead, Emara."

His face catches the hardness of a marble while he slaps me with his mysterious statement.

Why did he say that? And what does he even mean?

"Just because you are dead, doesn't mean I won't kill you twice." I breathe out rebellious air.

Dakota smirks, while taking out sterilized cotton balls, a pair of scissors, and bandages from the box, causing my nerves to jump out of my skin panickingly.

Oh god! Is he going to perform a surgery on me?

"What are you doing?" I try to protest against his pity, but he holds me close.

"Will you sit still, or do I have to tie you up first?" He pauses, giving me a threatening look.

I gasp loudly as he applies a cooling gel on to my wrist, expertly dabbing it over the affected area, like he knows what he is doing.

To be honest, I am not even surprised anymore.

This man can be anything- A pornstar, cook, CEO, gym trainer, burglar, and now he is even a doctor. He is like your very own Johnny Sins.

Everyday he is something new. It is like playing a guessing game of what new talent is going to pop out of his I-am-better than-you box today.

Dakota carefully rubs the ointment on my wrist, and I feel the effect in my chest. My heart flutters at his touch, which is surprisingly gentle.

Something I had never expected from him.

His touch is not just soft, but so much caring and tender to the point where I feel safe and deeply loved. I close my eyes and try to bury the emotions which are bursting through me from his gentle caress.

And when I open my eyes, all I see is him. The curve of his lips, the faint lines on his forehead, his concerned eyes, and the guilt he carries in his gaze while he works on wrapping my hand.

I try not to feel, but my heart warms at his touch which is infused with care, and makes it hard to resist feeling something.

I want to push him away and shield myself from the possibility of getting hurt again, but at the same time, I am feeling drawn to his warm side, which he has never shown me before. 

Why?

"Why are you doing this?" I ask him and green eyes lock into mine, pulling me with an intensity that can only be compared to the gravitational pull of a black hole.

"I thought you wanted to hurt me." I feel a crack in my voice, but I gulp my tears as his eyes focus on me.

"I do." He says, focusing back on my wrist. "But not this way." His voice low and almost inaudible.

I see a fraction of regret in his eyes, but he hides them flawlessly beneath the layers of his stoic emotions. Like he chained his heart and chewed the key.

After Dakota finishes wrapping my hand, he looks up at me with deep concern in his eyes. "Are you feeling any better?"

My heart thuds the way he is staring at me with such deep affection, it makes me feel like I am the only person in the world that matters to him.

But I avert my gaze and chain my heart as I focus on the dull, throbbing pain on my wrist. Which is surprisingly concealed beneath a perfectly-wrapped bandage, like it is done by a medical professional.

"How did you wrap it so perfectly?" I ask him with surprise.

"I learned it myself."

Dakota places all the items back in the box as he responds, "I used to take care of my injuries and do my own dressing after the fights to avoid expensive medical bills. So I learned how to treat wounds and wrap bandages myself."

Despite the chains around my heart, I feel a deep thump in my chest while thinking about his injuries. That's why he called my pain 'a little sprain' though it hurts like getting hit by an airplane.

"Take a rest for few hours. If it is merely a nerve sprain, the pain should calm down by the evening." He says and stands up, getting behind the counter.

"I might need that apron now." He smirks playfully and I cross my arms, hugging the only cloth on my body.

I watch him in awe as he quickly makes scrambled eggs for me and passes me the plate saying, "Eat up, and don't forget to rest your hand."

He then grabs his suit and turns around to leave. My heart races at the scene of him walking away.

"Mr. Black!" I call him and he instantly turns around, jerking a brow at me.

"Thank you." I whisper, causing him to nod in return.

Now that he is in his soft mood, I think he will grant me a wish if I'll be nice as well.

"Also, can you please give me back those lingeries?" I lick my lips under his sharp scrutiny and shyly murmur, "I'll wear them tonight." 

I could feel my heart racing with anticipation as I gaze up at him, waiting for a change of heart.

I watch his pupils dilate in surprise, then soften as he stares at me with a glint in his eyes that can be only interpreted as joy.

"No." A victory smile surfaces as the look of softness evaporates from his face. "You had your chance, Emara. But now, you don't deserve to wear those twenty grand clothes I got for you."

My numb hand tingles with a surge of rage as I glare at the arrogant bastard in front of me.

"Why do you have to be such an asshole?" I yell at him.

"For once I am trying to be nice with you, trying to understand you, cope up with the sudden change in your temperature, and then your disturbing behaviour. But it is becoming too much for me now. I had never cooked in my life, still I am trying for you. And on top of that, I am tolerating your frequent mood swings way more than any person could have ever done. Hence, I deserve some respect in the form of clothes." My chest rises and falls as I glare at him hotly.

Dakota tilts his head in amusement as if he has never seen a girl demanding clothes from him.

"Don't look at me like you are doing me a favour, Ms. Stone." His voice calmer than a monk. 

"I gave you a choice- Either you clean for me, or you clean up for yourself in jail. You have chosen a wise decision."

Anger bubbles up in me like a pot of hot tea left on the stove for too long. I clench my other fist in anger and swear on the bottles of shampoo that I have never met an asshole like him in my whole damn life.

"You piece of wet shit. I hope you go to hell of worse hells." I hiss every word venomously at him.

A sardonic grin curves his lips as he finds some kind of comical humour in my anger. His eyes grow darker and a mixture of different emotions appear on his face. It's sinful and something close to malicious.

"Go find whatever you can wear, Emara." His voice husky and evil. "Because tomorrow you will be walking this floor naked. Absolutely naked." He speaks like a challenge, shaking my spines with his obnoxious threat.

"I am not scared of your threats. Mr. Black." The stubborn girl in me refuses to back down. I was never taught to bow down, particularly not to bitches.

"And I definitely won't break by your cheap tricks." I stare back at him with fierce determination.

"Good. Because I have no interest in breaking a weak girl anyway. It's only fun when there is a resistance." His voice playful, yet very sadistic.

My dignity has become nothing more than a game to this tyrant king, one that he takes pleasure in stripping my pride and self-respect day by day, until he can humiliate me with my own nudity.

"I won't let you win. Even if I have to go wear a bin bag, I'll wear it. But I will not walk around naked." I declare the war, despite my shaking nerves.

Dakota smirks, like a predator after cornering his prey. He takes a step towards me, the greens in his eyes radiates with malice as he states, "Very well. If you are smart enough to find clothes for yourself tomorrow, then I'll let you go to your home."

My eyes lit up in hope and my heart thuds against my chest with the thought of going back to my home, to my normal life, something I have been craving for days.

"But if you didn't.." The warning in his voice sends chills down my spine as he lowers his wolfish face and sneers, "Then I won't let you rest or close your legs all day."

( ͡♥ ₃ ͡♥)

Who do you think is going to win?

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