CHAPTER 2.

Chapter 2.

A fleeting desire was Imprinted in his thoughts, like shadows on the wall. He tore his gaze away from her already-drenched body as he tried to decipher the dangerous desire to order for her and pounce on her like he does to every other lady, but there was something about her that had his eyes zooming off to her direction, again and again.

For a start, she was typically the opposite of the women he dealt with in bed. He loved red-haired ladies, ones that carried heavy natural elements, clearly, she was not the kind of woman that piqued his interest. She was a Blondy with pale white skin, slim on the upper part and thicker on the lower part. She had a thin waist that accentuated the curve of her hips and that suddenly left him desiring the sight that lay underneath her clothes. What would it feel to have her hips thrusting against his?

Drystan swallowed hard. He felt a slithering heat streaming down his chest. With the air condition in perfect shape, his skin was sweaty and his muscles were jumping in need of this stranger.

For some minutes and more, he thought that this feeling was only sexual, till he saw her being deprived of a space to shield her already drenched body in.

His brows frowned, subconsciously and a muscle in his jaws tightened as rage rasped through him. Weird.

He had never cared a tiny bit about whatever hurdles a person was going through. But this time, he wanted to walk down there and rip the heart of whoever had the right to deprive her of the space he could buy at just the snap of his finger. With her, he felt a need to protect, to shield. The typical opposite of the things he derived pleasure in. Weird.

He derived pleasure in killing, ruining, and inflicting pain on people regardless of their gender, but seeing this innocent human, quivering under the rain, while her doe eyes scanned helplessly around, in search of security, he suddenly desired to protect, to shelter, and to salivate. Again it was really weird — that he could not take his eyes away from her direction no matter how hard he tried.

The desire to protect was the forbidden hitch that only ever arose when it necessitated his sister. The last subsist of peace his deteriorating father left him, alongside inherited enemies, that he had subsequently killed, in return for peace, justice, and redemption.

“Get me an umbrella.” His voice was low, yet hard enough to command. He never yelled. He didn't need to yell to be heard, or feared.

One of the men In the back seat of the Limousin pulled an umbrella from the side and handed it over to Drystan who was in the middle seat, then bowed.

He took the umbrella, and without further communication, he dropped down from the car, gesturing towards the lady.

A feeling of bewilderment clogged the air, and the men exchanged glares. He never opened the car by himself. He gave orders, and if ever there was an intervention of seconds before carrying out the order, then the person in question would consider kissing their life goodbye or watching their legs being chopped off and fed to them.

Hurriedly, the men dropped down from the car, attempting to follow him.

“Stay back.” His deep voice sliced through the air, his clear and stern order, pinning them in point.

Even with the heavily pouring rain, they heard his voice loud.

They made a gentle bow and watched as he walked through the rain with the umbrella to his head.

As Drystan approached her from behind, her perfume clogged the walls of his nostril, basking in the scent of her perfume, which seemed to reek stronger than the scent of the rain.

************

Rosealba sat on a stool in the wet kitchen at her best friend's house. Her elbow rested on the counter while she buried the sides of her cheeks into her palm, staring at the umbrella that she had gotten from the stranger, some days back.

Like a knight in shining armor, he appeared from nowhere shielding her body from the rain, and her soul from worry.

Subconsciously, her cheeks stretched out as she recalled how hot he looked. His hands were the first thing she saw, the moment she noticed an umbrella to her head. Rosealba could not deny the heat that trickled down her body when her eyes met with the perfect shade of emerald, jade eyes, with volume lashes that outlined the lines of his eyes. His Greek nose, and the movement his hard-angled brows made when she got lost in the world of his eyes. For a moment, Rosealba felt protected, by the calloused hand of this stranger that held the umbrella above her head.

He was 6’4 feet tall, and she was? She was 5’7 feet tall. The average height of every lady, yet she felt short and tiny standing close to him. His muscle was stifled and calused and his clothes hugged tightly to them, accentuating every sculpture that lay underneath his clothes. He looked down to earth intimidating than any human ever looked in black Zara pants and, a black button-down shirt with a rolled-up sleeve.

As her eyes ran around his tattooed arm, a feeling of warmth gathered below her stomach and she felt that tiny bit of rippling sparkles that she only ever experienced when reading a book.

Rosealba swallowed, forcing her eyes back to his face, but there was just something about the style of his hair. A medium mullet, that left her gulping subconsciously. Her fingers would do a great job on them. Certainly.

“With the amount of times, you have blushed today, I could make a red dress from the redness in your cheek.”

Rosealba chuckled at Lina’s joke that pulled her out of her trance. She adjusted her butts on the stool. The sides of her cheeks are still buried In her palm.

“So you mean that jerk boyfriend of yours left you at the airport after 3 hours of getting a breakdown with your miserable car?”

Rosealba exhaled a breath into the air, letting her shoulder slump in defeat. Countlessly, Lina had warned her against, Lowell. Saying that he didn't love her as much as a normal boyfriend should love his girlfriend. For Rosealba, loving didn't have to be all choking, as long as they knew it in their hearts, then it was fine.

“Pass me the towel.” Lina nudged and Rosealba did as asked, watching Lina as she made her endless rant about Lowell, while cleaning the kitchen counter for the hundred and one times since she started making a mocktail. Lina had a knack for cleaning her house, twice in each second of the day. It was a thing Rosealba had come to learn from her friend. Something she didn't do back then in Poland with her family. However, Lina also had a bad habit of always requesting something a mere inch from her.

In this friendship, Lina was the outspoken one. She could talk from morning as long as the conversation was worth it, and Rosealba did well to listen.

“Your umbrella is beautiful.” Lina commended, giving the umbrella one last glare before handling the glass of mocktail to Rosalba.

“Thank you. It was given to me by the stranger I told you about.

“I almost forgot. Tell me about him.” Lina took a seat opposite Rosealba, her interest piqued.

A grin spread across Rosealba’s lips as she recalled his lips and how tempting they had looked, but the thoughts of her boyfriend were all it took to snap the thoughts out of her head.

“He is just a stranger, and besides I have a boyfriend.”

Lina paused on her drink, then chuckled. A very sarcastic chuckle.

“You still care about him?”

“Of course. I mean he has not done anything wrong, right.” it was a habit of Rosealba to justify Lowel’s actions, saying that he was busy.

Lina stared back at Rosesbla, dumbfounded to hear that being stood up for 3 hours was not a problem.

“Well, he is your boyfriend, and who knows…” Lina shrugged burying the remaining words at the bottom of her throat.

For some minutes more, Rosealba enjoyed the conversation with her friend who was gisting her endlessly, about a media sight she was working on, the improvement, and how draining it could be as well. For Rosealba, talking was a problem for her. She enjoyed listening and only ever spoke when there was a tangible reason for it. All of these were factors that contributed to being self-employed. In the neighborhood of Rome, Rosealba had a store in Prati, where she sold flowers. A quiet neighborhood that seems to match her personality. She had a work that complemented her personality. A writer.

Lost in this mind-blowing conversation with Lina that has switched up to 4 topics in a sitting. Rosealba suddenly felt the presence of another. When she raised her gaze to meet him. She recalled him. A pair of jade eyes and adroit fingers held an umbrella to her head, not just shielding her from the rain, but from the ruthlessness of life. She recalled him, only that this time, he was in her best friend's house. With a pair of black pants that settled below the band of his brief. His clothed body from the other day was naked to her hungry eyes, revealing to her everything her desiring eyes and hands, yearned to see and feel.