You Drive Me Insane

Leni

The office had slowly become my refuge and a sweet distraction. A place where i wasn’t tormented by the silence at home or the unnerving secrets. Here, everything was normal. I needed the workload, t he conversations from my colleagues and the fresh cup of coffee.

I went through the case file on my desk, it was easy. My client was asking for custody of her child and a divorce from her abusive husband but somehow, I stared blankly at the paper in my hand. My mind wandering back to the man who came over yesterday.

Dusan had shut the conversation down before i was able to ask any vital questions.

His reaction to the man’s arrival made me wary, he’d quickly shielded me from the man, gripping my wrist tightly and hiding me from his eyes. I’d never seen Dusan so scared and if someone made my husband shake in his boots that way I deserved to know who.

But he only told me what he wanted me to know, and I let him. And I take the blame, maybe I’m still scared of involving myself completely in his business but shit, it is slowly becoming mine.

"Leni?"

I blinked, turning to see Dana leaning against my desk, a cup of coffee in hand.

"You're zoning out again," she said, dropping a sugar cube into her cup. "Is it the case?"

I forced a smile. “Definitely, I’m thinking of how to put the man behind bars too.”

"Liar," she teased, taking a sip. "You only get that look when it’s personal."

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped. Dana had always been observant.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked, raising a brow.

I hesitated. "It's nothing."

It wasn’t a lie, not really. How could I explain that my husband—a man most feared—was keeping things from me? That I was starting to question everything?

Dana shrugged, unfazed. "Suit yourself. But whatever it is, don’t let it eat you up."

She left before I could respond.

I sighed, glancing at my phone. There was a message from Dusan.

Dusan: I will pick you up at the close of work

I stared at the screen, my jaw tightening.

Of course, he wouldn’t ask. He never asked.

I locked my phone and went back to my file, grinding my teeth in anger.

Dusan was already waiting when I stepped outside. His car sat idly by the curb.

He leaned against it, cigarette between his fingers, watching me like I was his favorite show. I wasn’t aware he smoked, one thing learnt.

I hated that my pulse quickened.

"You should learn how to text politely instead of commanding me through texts.” I said as I got to him

He smirked. "And you would’ve ignored me."

I stared incredulously at him. “It is a text I would have still ignored this one. Pretend I didn’t see it.”

He let out a low chuckle, flickering his cigarette away and opened the door. I slid in without another word.

The ride was silent, an awkward silence settled between us. I could feel him watching me, but I refused to look his way.

"Say it," he finally said.

"Say what?"

"Whatever’s been eating at you all day."

I exhaled slowly, staring out the window. "Who was he?"

Dusan didn’t answer right away.

I turned to face him. "The man from last night."

His grip tightened on the wheel.

"You don’t need to know," he said eventually.

I scoffed. "That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one you’re getting."

I crossed my arms. "Right. Because you get to decide what I know and what I don’t."

His jaw ticked. "Drop it, Leni."

"Why?"

Silence.

I let out a bitter laugh. "You really don’t see it, do you?"

He glanced at me, expression unreadable.

“I’m new here, I know no one. I’m not sure who to trust and who not to trust. A man walks in and you, you of all people is visibly scared.”I said quietly. "Then you go on, hiding important information from me.Keeping me in the dark. Controlling what I knew, what I didn’t. I though it was an Italian men thing."

His hands flexed on the wheel.

"You think gifting me flowers makes you different?" I continued. “That it will make me forget any underlying danger? How many flowers will you bring to my grave?” That did it

Dusan cursed under his breath, pulling the car over abruptly.

Before I could react, he was on me. Not rough, not gentle—just there. His fingers slid into my hair, forcing me to look at him.

"I am not your father," he said, voice low, dangerous. "And I’m sure as hell not letting you get into any danger.”

My breath hitched.

"You hate how I handle things? Fine. But don’t compare me to him and don’t fucking talk about death, I’d burn this world to ashes before you lose a hair from your head."

I searched his face, my heart pounding. "Then stop keeping me away from things that affect me."

His eyes darkened. And then, suddenly, his lips were on mine, it was hot, too hot it made my skin visibly burn.

I gasped against him, my fingers digging into his shirt.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine.

"You drive me insane," he muttered.

"Good."

Dusan took me to a restaurant I had never heard of before. It was small, intimate—one of those places that didn’t need advertisements because the right people already knew about it. It made me realize I’d never actually gone out to see the world, I lost Franz and lost interest in the outside world.

The hostess led us to a secluded table in the back, and I was surprised when the waiter didn’t hand us menus.

Dusan ordered for me like it was second nature, his voice smooth and firm as he spoke in Russian. I liked when he spoke Russian, it made my stomach do backflips, made me want to have his whisper absolute nonsense in my ears.

I studied him as he did, the way he leaned back slightly, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass. He looked at ease, he looked so sexy relaxed. His beautiful eyes dimmed as he stared at my lips again.

When the waiter left, I crossed my arms. "Will you always do that?"

His brow lifted. "Do what?"

"Decide for me."

He smirked. "You don’t like making decisions anyway, most especially about food."

I rolled my eyes. "That’s not the point."

"Then what is?"

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I didn’t know. Not really.

The food arrived before I could argue, and I was grateful for the diversion. The dishes were rich and aromatic, the taste made me let out a moan. Fucking good.

I expected him to fill the silence with conversation, but Dusan simply watched me eat. The weight of his gaze was unnerving.

"What?" I asked, setting my fork down.

"You’re beautiful," he said, matter of factly.

I swallowed hard. "Flattery won’t make me drop the subject, you know."

He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Worth a try."

I shook my head, pushing my plate aside. "Dusan—"

"Eat, Leni."

The finality in his tone made it clear, he wasn’t going to give me answers tonight or anytime in the future. Meaning I had to find out myself.

I sighed but picked up my fork again.

After dinner, Dusan drove us home.

The ride was quieter this time, not entirely free of tension, but something was different, more calmer.

When we arrived, I expected him to leave me to my thoughts, but instead, he followed me upstairs.

I stopped at the bedroom door, glancing at him. "You’re not going back to work?"

"No."

He didn’t elaborate.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. He was right behind me.

I turned. "Dusan—"

He was already reaching for my jacket, sliding it off my shoulders before I could protest. His touch was careful. Slow.

My breath caught.

"I’m not going to let anyone hurt you," he said again, softer this time. "And I’m not going to let you go."

I swallowed.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead before stepping back. "Get some rest."

Then, without another word, he left.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door.

I wanted to beg him to spend a night in my room tonight, i’d never been reassured that way before and it made me feel so good in a way.