Maya's povJenny stands next to me as I type away at the keys. I look at her briefly, the ever-perfect appearance she has still intact. Her edges are styled to perfection, and her brown lips are covered in gloss. Her skin is clear and has no pimples or blemishes unlike mine. I return my focus to the computer before logging out.“Where are you going?” She asks when I stand grabbing all the research I was able to sneak out and do.“Uh, to finish my rounds it's almost five.”She huffs, folding her arms over her chest. “Fine, can I come drop you off ?”I halt in my tracks Cassian's warning flashing. “No, no I'll be fine thank you.”I ran off before she could ask more questions that I clearly couldn't answer. The time ticks by as I try to go through the charts I was assigned today, someone will be here to pick me up within minutes and I'm not done.“I can't believe it's five thirty already,” someone says, my heart plummets to my stomach and I look at my watch. Shit.I don't even change ou
Maya's pov I grunt, rolling to the other side of the bed ducking my head under the pillow. The banging on my door intensifies with each minute, each thud sharper and more insistent. With a frustrated sigh, I shove the stack of books off my bed, shuffling for my phone under the covers. Coming out empty-handed I step off the bed; the polished floor biting at my bare feet. The pounding on my door grew louder and by now I wanted to kill whoever was on the other side. If it's another drunk who has confused his house number again, I will lose it. I grabbed the baseball bat that I had loaned from Mr Crawmey down stairs since it was either that or a gun that had a body count on it, and that was not an option. I reach the living room tripping over a can of coke and before I can regain my balance the door flies open. Silhouettes of men stand at the door, their clothes covered in dirt and blood. Two of them hold an injured man, dripping blood on the rug my mother hand-sewn for me. One flicks
Maya's pov Tears that I had been holding in stream down my face. “Please,” I beg, as he turns me around. “Are you deaf?” he asks. “I said don't move.” “I know… I know I just.” “I hate being disrespected,” he says, his voice low but controlled. “I'm sorry I'm just scared,” I cry. “Does it look like I care?” He asks, so close I can smell the mint on his breath. “No.” I shake my head and his hand, tight and firm presses on my jaw. His skin is hard, like someone that does manual labor, the callouses scraping against my skin. “Then why did you think to open this pretty mouth of yours to tell me that you're scared?” He pushes me to the door hard and I wince in pain. “Do you want to die?” he asks, running the butt of his gun on my stomach. The cold surface has me shivering. I try to shake my head, but he presses harder, till the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. “I'm going to forgive you since you saved my brother, but if you ever disrespect me like that again I will take
Cassian's pov I turn from the couch and look at her. Her hair now is in a French-Braided ponytail. She wears a pair of blue jeans that accentuate her curves in a way that would make any man water for her. “I didn't tell anyone,” she says, fear laced in her tone. I grunt motioning for her to come in. “I didn't say you did.” “Then why are you here?” she questions, holding the strap of her bag so tight her knuckles turn white. I move from where I was seated, going to close the door. “Take a seat and I will tell you,” I say, pointing to the couch. She drags herself to the couch, her chapped lips open as if she wants to say something but decides otherwise. She looks at the gun and blue file on the table taking a seat. “What do you want?” She asks, her gray eyes wary. “To talk,” I reply, sitting beside her but leaving as much distance as possible. “I already told you I will not tell anybody,” she pleads, her jaw set. “I swear.” I open the file, crossing my legs over the other. “M
Maya's Pov I let out a guttural scream, the sound easing some of the tension in my chest. What just happened? My life was fine two days ago. I had a plan, finish my residency, become the future of Ophthalmology, pay off my medical debt and help my parents. Not treat goons or operate on murderers. The shrill cry of my phone takes me out of my thoughts. My mother's name flashes on the screen and I grunt. “Hello sweetie,” my mum says, her voice as cheerful as ever. I clear my throat, looking at the boxes of unopened items and stacks of medicine books lining the coffee table. “Uh, hi mum.” “How are you? How is the big city?” “It's fine, how are you, how is Dad?” I ask, wiping away my tears. “We're fine, but you're dad, he went to see Dr. Charles and he says his blood pressure is shooting up and his vision is getting blurry,” she says, worry laced in her tone. “Uh, is he taking his medicine properly?” I ask, knowing how stubborn he can be. “Yes, I remind him every day. Maya, I
His figure leaves the room and I clutch my head. What did I just do?I can't be that stupid, I can't move into his house, I can't operate on him, I'm toast. I take a seat at the couch rubbing my thighs up and down. The nagging feeling that I missed something still lingers even as the hours go by, sleep seemed to elude me that night and the house was loud. Every thought was about Cassian, his smell still lingered and even his eyes were messing with my head.Morning came quickly and since it was Sunday, I didn't have to report to work. I put the little belongings I had into the boxes waiting for the person who was supposed to come take my things.A knock echoes through the door and I jump, I touch my chest as I peep through the small hole. It's a man wearing a movers uniform.“Hello, my name is Anton, I'm here to help you move,” he says, stretching his hand. He was fairly built with a baseball cap covering his red hair. I shake it lightly welcoming him in. —The car st
Maya's povJenny stands next to me as I type away at the keys. I look at her briefly, the ever-perfect appearance she has still intact. Her edges are styled to perfection, and her brown lips are covered in gloss. Her skin is clear and has no pimples or blemishes unlike mine. I return my focus to the computer before logging out.“Where are you going?” She asks when I stand grabbing all the research I was able to sneak out and do.“Uh, to finish my rounds it's almost five.”She huffs, folding her arms over her chest. “Fine, can I come drop you off ?”I halt in my tracks Cassian's warning flashing. “No, no I'll be fine thank you.”I ran off before she could ask more questions that I clearly couldn't answer. The time ticks by as I try to go through the charts I was assigned today, someone will be here to pick me up within minutes and I'm not done.“I can't believe it's five thirty already,” someone says, my heart plummets to my stomach and I look at my watch. Shit.I don't even change ou
Cassian's povI slide on my chair, fixing the tightening on my pants. letting out a slow breath, I dismiss Maya's effect on me as the lack of a woman's touch for a long time. My eyes move to the clock where my father's photo hangs beside it like a silent reminder of the man I'm supposed to be. Exhaling sharply, I get up from the chair and head outside, the living area is eerily quiet except for the occasional hum of the refrigerator. The helps go about their tasks with mechanical precision, their presence barely registering as I pass them.“Sir,” Matteo calls, handing me a phone.I take it from his hand checking the screen, it's Don Hurio. “Yes.”“Come and see me,” he says, his voice low but gruff. “Is there something wrong?” I ask, questioning this weird and untimely call.“Cassian, come see me I'm at my club,” he says, his tone leaving no for negotiation. “Don't be late,” he adds, hanging up the phone.“Bring the car around.” I find him sitting with his friends, a group of strip
His figure leaves the room and I clutch my head. What did I just do?I can't be that stupid, I can't move into his house, I can't operate on him, I'm toast. I take a seat at the couch rubbing my thighs up and down. The nagging feeling that I missed something still lingers even as the hours go by, sleep seemed to elude me that night and the house was loud. Every thought was about Cassian, his smell still lingered and even his eyes were messing with my head.Morning came quickly and since it was Sunday, I didn't have to report to work. I put the little belongings I had into the boxes waiting for the person who was supposed to come take my things.A knock echoes through the door and I jump, I touch my chest as I peep through the small hole. It's a man wearing a movers uniform.“Hello, my name is Anton, I'm here to help you move,” he says, stretching his hand. He was fairly built with a baseball cap covering his red hair. I shake it lightly welcoming him in. —The car st
Maya's Pov I let out a guttural scream, the sound easing some of the tension in my chest. What just happened? My life was fine two days ago. I had a plan, finish my residency, become the future of Ophthalmology, pay off my medical debt and help my parents. Not treat goons or operate on murderers. The shrill cry of my phone takes me out of my thoughts. My mother's name flashes on the screen and I grunt. “Hello sweetie,” my mum says, her voice as cheerful as ever. I clear my throat, looking at the boxes of unopened items and stacks of medicine books lining the coffee table. “Uh, hi mum.” “How are you? How is the big city?” “It's fine, how are you, how is Dad?” I ask, wiping away my tears. “We're fine, but you're dad, he went to see Dr. Charles and he says his blood pressure is shooting up and his vision is getting blurry,” she says, worry laced in her tone. “Uh, is he taking his medicine properly?” I ask, knowing how stubborn he can be. “Yes, I remind him every day. Maya, I
Cassian's pov I turn from the couch and look at her. Her hair now is in a French-Braided ponytail. She wears a pair of blue jeans that accentuate her curves in a way that would make any man water for her. “I didn't tell anyone,” she says, fear laced in her tone. I grunt motioning for her to come in. “I didn't say you did.” “Then why are you here?” she questions, holding the strap of her bag so tight her knuckles turn white. I move from where I was seated, going to close the door. “Take a seat and I will tell you,” I say, pointing to the couch. She drags herself to the couch, her chapped lips open as if she wants to say something but decides otherwise. She looks at the gun and blue file on the table taking a seat. “What do you want?” She asks, her gray eyes wary. “To talk,” I reply, sitting beside her but leaving as much distance as possible. “I already told you I will not tell anybody,” she pleads, her jaw set. “I swear.” I open the file, crossing my legs over the other. “M
Maya's pov Tears that I had been holding in stream down my face. “Please,” I beg, as he turns me around. “Are you deaf?” he asks. “I said don't move.” “I know… I know I just.” “I hate being disrespected,” he says, his voice low but controlled. “I'm sorry I'm just scared,” I cry. “Does it look like I care?” He asks, so close I can smell the mint on his breath. “No.” I shake my head and his hand, tight and firm presses on my jaw. His skin is hard, like someone that does manual labor, the callouses scraping against my skin. “Then why did you think to open this pretty mouth of yours to tell me that you're scared?” He pushes me to the door hard and I wince in pain. “Do you want to die?” he asks, running the butt of his gun on my stomach. The cold surface has me shivering. I try to shake my head, but he presses harder, till the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. “I'm going to forgive you since you saved my brother, but if you ever disrespect me like that again I will take
Maya's pov I grunt, rolling to the other side of the bed ducking my head under the pillow. The banging on my door intensifies with each minute, each thud sharper and more insistent. With a frustrated sigh, I shove the stack of books off my bed, shuffling for my phone under the covers. Coming out empty-handed I step off the bed; the polished floor biting at my bare feet. The pounding on my door grew louder and by now I wanted to kill whoever was on the other side. If it's another drunk who has confused his house number again, I will lose it. I grabbed the baseball bat that I had loaned from Mr Crawmey down stairs since it was either that or a gun that had a body count on it, and that was not an option. I reach the living room tripping over a can of coke and before I can regain my balance the door flies open. Silhouettes of men stand at the door, their clothes covered in dirt and blood. Two of them hold an injured man, dripping blood on the rug my mother hand-sewn for me. One flicks