Do You Want Him?

“Leonardo Hayes,” I repeated, looking at this stranger, before I looked at Alexander, expecting an explanation. When none was given, and he just stared at me with a bored look, I looked back at the stranger. “But you’re supposed to be–”

“Out of the country?” he completed, straightening to his full height, and he was almost as tall as Alexander. “That’s what I told Alexander to tell your father.”

I looked at this man, at his silver hair that fell just on top of his shoulders, tied on the top, at his black eyes that looked soft, at the crow’s feet beside his eyes that told me he smiled a lot. I looked at his lips, and there was a small smile there. He stood tall, with wide shoulders and a broad chest. 

He looked… young, like he was just approaching fifty. How can a man like this birth a grumpy, non-smiling Alexander?

“He took after his mother,” Leonardo said softly, as if reading my mind. He scoffed. “Well, in looks only. His mother smiled, laughed, and cried a lot. Alexander is just his own person.”

I nodded, fighting the urge to look over at him, but then I remembered who I was standing in front of. 

Leonardo Hayes, the man sought by billionaires and the government. The man everyone wanted to shake hands with and partner with, yet the world didn’t know what he looked like. This was one of the most powerful men alive. 

I cleared my throat and straightened my back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

He stared at me, the smile still on, then his eyes trailed off my face and went down, passing through my features one by one. Then he looked at his son, his smile growing. 

I looked at Alexander to see that he just stood still, his jaw clenched. 

“None of that ‘sir’ nonsense, Isabella.” I looked back at his father. “We’re family, aren’t we? No need to be formal.”

I nodded, and he stared at me with a look in his eyes. 

“You should get some rest,” he said, and something told me that’s not what he wanted to say. “It’s going to be a long night for you.”

He turned to leave just as suddenly as he had come, and I stared at where he stood, wondering what that look in his eyes was or if I was seeing things. 

“I’ll take you to your room.” I turned to Alexander, and we stared at each other, the silence heavy and thick. 

“What was that?” I asked finally.

He raised an eyebrow. “What was what?”

“That.” I pointed to where his father had disappeared. “With your father.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask him?”

“Right.” I nodded slowly. “I’ll ask him.”

He stared at him and then took slow steps towards me. I stood still, not moving an inch. He stopped in front of me, barely any space between us, and I wondered if this man knew the meaning of personal space. 

“Do you think he’s handsome?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes fixed on mine. 

“He is,” I answered honestly. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

Something flashed in his eyes, and he leaned in closer. “Do you want him, Isabella?”

I stared at him with my eyebrows furrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s a simple question that requires a simple answer.”

“Why would I want someone I don't know?”

“You didn’t know me that night, but you spread your legs for me. You came on my cock.”

My face burned so hot, I feared it might melt off. I hit his chest with all my might, but he barely moved. “I was drunk!”

He still stared at me with that empty look on his face, that dark look in his eyes. “Then if I pump you full of alcohol, will you want him too? Will you spread your legs and let him do whatever he wants? Will you–”

My hand moved before I could even decide, and the sharp ring of a slap echoed in the room. His head whipped to the side, the corner of his bottom lip tearing, and a drop of blood came out. 

“I am not a whore!” I screamed, my eyes wide, my chest heaving heavily. 

Rage. It was hot in my chest. 

He grabbed my hand, and I prepared myself, thinking he was going to hit me back, but instead, he grabbed my waist and walked me back until my back hit the wall. He pressed himself on me, his chest heaving, his breathing heavy, and my eyes grew wide when I felt his bulge pressing against my stomach. 

He was hard. 

He buried his face into my neck, inhaling deeply and groaning. He grabbed my jaw, tilted my head, and slammed his lips on mine. I tasted the blood on his lips, and I moaned softly. I grabbed his hair, pressing myself against him, and he groaned into my mouth, grinding himself on me. 

He broke the kiss, pulling his head back and looking into my eyes as he growled, “The next time you do that, I’ll fuck you so hard, your scream will shake these walls.”

He let go of my waist, pulled away, turned, and left. 

I stood there alone, trying to catch my breath, and I kept asking myself, “What is wrong with me? What was it about him that just made me lose my cool? That made all the reasoning fly from my head?”

While I was questioning myself, I felt eyes on me. I raised my head to the stairs, and there he was. 

Leonardo Hayes. 

He stared down at me with a peculiar look in his eyes, his smile nowhere to be seen. He looked totally different, and I could swear it looked like there was a shadow around him. Not behind, but around. 

But no, it wasn't a shadow. It was more like an aura. An aura that sent a shiver down my spine. 

Then all of a sudden, he smiled. A wide smile that looked like it belonged on his face, and it suited him so well that it was alarming. 

He tilted an imaginary hat at me and pulled back into the shadow. And just like that, he was gone. 

I stood there, at the verge of panicking, asking myself over and over again, “What kind of house have I come to?”