Six.

ISHTAR.

"Oh, fuck!" Mr. Beast yelled and shoved Reiss off him. The scrawny lad staggered backwards and fell into the chair while I stood in awe, just a step away from the door.

I'd been glancing at it to see how easy it'd be for me to open and spin out, never to look back, never to return. My backpack was where I wanted it to be, by my feet, and I could easily pick it up, but first, we needed to solve the problem at hand.

The patch of green on Mr. Beast's white T-shirt was spreading rapidly, and he let out a strained, disgusted gasp as he tore it off without any hesitation. I'd never seen a person look so physically disturbed over something like that, and from what I'd noticed from their relationship, these two weren't close at all.

Saying I was appalled wasn't nearly enough to describe the fear I was feeling. I had stupidly fallen asleep after the stranger named Reiss walked in and indulged me in this random discussion about his love life.

The comfort was to die for, and because he wept like a fool, I stayed and listened to his rants to make him feel better even though he'd addressed as Mrs. Kincaid all through the discussion, not that I didn't benefit from it too, it was nice having someone to listen to.

I had been a fool to think taking a sip of the small bottle of gin in his pocket wouldn't cause me any disturbance. I was a lousy drinker and always had been. Abby always rang it in my ears. My poor alcohol tolerance had gotten us into several dangerous situations, so I could also say that I was grateful this one only made me sleep.

And I apparently ate a lot. I widened my eyes and snapped from my thoughts, reading the perplexed expression of Mr. Beast, and my eyes dropped to his bare-toned chest. There were several marks on his body, whip marks, claw marks, and they called my attention.

This person had begun to pique my interest in a way I wasn't sure was healthy. His body was well built and sculpted, his fair skin so inviting while his long hair fell on his shoulders and framed his frowning face. He was simply beautiful, in an archaic kind of way.

My eyes fell to his toned forearms, and the images of his hand tightly wrapped around my neck sneaked into my head again, jolting me out of whatever trance he had me in. I gulped hard, and my chest tightened with fear.

"I'm so sorry…big brother," Reiss spoke, cutting through the hair of silence and utter confusion that lingered. "I thought I could handle it. Stacey was so beautiful!"

I shook my head. Reiss was even drunker in his sober state, and Mr. Beast didn't seem to appreciate it at all. His presence terrified me, and his imposing figure almost had me crumbling to his feet. Something about him compelled authority.

I'd never, ever felt this way about a man.

Ever. Mr Beast— sorry— Kincaid dropped the stained shirt and huffed quietly. There were so many signs of anger in his movement, that he didn't even need to say it. Chills skittered down my spine as his eyes met mine, and once again, I was hauled into the abyss he hid behind those two orbs.

"You…" his voice was slow, soft, and somehow, it still had me rooted to the ground, unable to fight listening to him. He was scarier in the day than he was at night. He cocked his head and squinted, "What even are you?"

I delved into every detail of his face. His rather long eyelashes and how they scattered around his eyes. Those full eyebrows and how he pinched them together. The way his eyes narrowed as he stared at me questioningly.

All these details, why was it pleasing so? I swallowed hard again, feeling a sudden swell in my throat and how it tried to block out my response. "I a-already told you last night! I'm Caroline!"

He closed his eyes for a brief second and opened it again, a broken sign slipping past his bloody red lips. "I'd ask you again, Minerva, and I have no time for your games. Where have you come from? Are there others like you? Where are the others!?"

His voice got more urgent with each question. Reiss sat up, wiping his face. "So she really isn't your wife!?"

"Shut up, Reiss!" We barked at him at the same time.

Kincaid still stood a bit far away from me, but it was a distance he could kill in a few seconds. I had no idea if the door was open, and it was a risky idea to lie and reach for a most likely locked door. That man could snap my name in one go. I had his wallet, which was also a survival option if I successfully got out of there.

I had one option, to tell him the truth or make up a pathetic story and have him let me go. Maybe he would, although he looked like he murdered people for a living.

My shoulders slumped, and I wore my best sad face, "Fine," I sighed dejectedly. "You caught me, okay? My name is Ishtar, but that's the only thing I lied about. I told you the wrong name because I was terrified yesterday."

He looked at me like he was confused and searching for something inside of me. His gaze was intense, and it almost burned me from the inside. I wanted to squirm in discomfort.

I continued, "I'm twenty-one, and like I said, I was on my own when Reiss asked to offer me a place to stay yesterday night. I lost my home and was wandering the streets when—" I didn't know if Reiss drove in or not. "When he found me. And that's all that happened. That's how I ended up here."

"You're twenty-one," Kincaid repeatedly. "You expect me to believe you?" His voice rang again.

"Maybe I look older," I shrugged. "Poverty does that to people. Also, would you believe him instead," I motioned to Reiss, who was not shamelessly crying into a pillow?

Kincaid said nothing. His jaw tightened as he contemplated silently. I couldn't tell what was going on in his mind, but I was terrified by the way he looked at me. Like he wouldn't hesitate to tear me apart.

"Look at me, Ishtar. Look into my eyes and tell me," He ordered, "Do you recognize me? What do you feel when you look at me?"

Upon his request, which for no reason I couldn't seem to decline, I bored my eyes into his. I felt a strange energy form in my lower abdomen, and I got goosebumps again. Something about looking at him sent electrical sparks flying around in my insides, and it pricked my skin.

I didn't know how to describe the emotion. "Uhm," I scratched my head. There wasn't a way I was telling him the truth about what I felt. "I think you could really use a trip for the edges of your mustache before you start to look like a toilet brush."

Why the fuck did I- When Abby told me my mouth might be what eventually kills me, I don't think she was lying. I placed my hand over my mouth, shocked. "I'm sorry I didn't—"

"Leave." He ordered. "That face you carry would bring you more woe than you think. Leave now!"

Ouch. He was pettier than I thought. All because I mentioned his facial hair, now the bit of confidence I had already faded into the unknown. I glared at him.

"That's the worst way I'd ever been called ugly," I grunted, pouting. "Well, see ya, Kincaid. You, too, Reiss. Get a girl in your league next time!"

"Kincaid? " Kincaid repeated again and scoffed. "You're really something."

I'd seen that line in a few movies, and I knew nothing good came from it. I picked up my backpack immediately and rushed out of the mansion with my heart in my mouth. I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

That man was scary. I hated how I now had his face etched in my mind, and now, till the end of the day, the entirety of my thoughts would revolve around him.

I didn't hate what it felt like.

#

I just had the third job rejection for today, and it had me punching the air in the middle of the street. It had been three days since I left Kincaid's mansion, and I'd managed to lodge in a small hotel with the money from his wallet, of course.

The downside was, tonight was the last night, and after that, I'd be back on the street with nothing. How unfortunate would that be? I had very little money left, and none of the stores around would hire me. They're too busy asking for documents I couldn't be bothered to find.

I had to brainstorm and find something. I returned to the hotel and began to ransack my bag for any clue that could aid my survival. Kincaid's wallet fell out along with the clothes I'd stolen from him and a few others of mine, nothing more.

The clothes made me remember what it felt like to be in that warm, cozy home again. It was funny how he wasn't even aware of my presence till I announced it. It was so comforting. I sat at the edge of the bed and sighed tiredly.

Nothing was working out, and that was pretty much how my entire life had always been. I didn't know what to do. Abby wasn't here to brainstorm with me either. She was the smarter and more innocent one.

Most times, the ideas I got were the ones that could potentially lead to my being locked up. If I got locked up in this situation, I might as well die in prison because there would be no one to pay for my bail.

"What to do…what to do," I brainstormed as I pranced around the room, biting on my fingers. My gaze shifted to the bed— Kincaid's wallet.

I reached for it and began to check it again. I pulled out two IDs that I'd earlier ignored. One was personal, while the other was for work. Maybe I could find something.

"Damian Kincaid," I muttered as I checked the identity card. "Thirty? He acted like he was fifty or something. He was just so well-defined and put together." I sighed again.

Then and there, another maddening idea was born in my mind. I ruffled my hair, "No, Ishtar! You're not doing that!" I argued with myself. There wasn't a way in hell I was going to have anything else to do with Kincaid, whatever his name was.

But what if—

What if he was exactly my way out of this mess? This could be the perfect opportunity I need to make things better for myself. Maybe, maybe, I could even afford a stable home if I played my cards right. I packed up my things and swung my backpack on my shoulders.

I needed to get to work.

#

The path was aligned, and I'd already gotten everything I needed. I stood before the imposing structure of the biggest business building in the USA, trying to find my way in without alerting the guards.

Luckily, a car was coming in at the same time, so it made it easier for me to sneak past. It wasn't easy per se— I was just the one used to sneaking in and out of places.

The interior was way cooler than I thought, and I gasped as I walked down the huge hallway. It was all White, the floor and walls, and it reeked of nothing less than professionalism. I knew I shouldn't be there, but I had a good reason.

No, I had the best reason. I sauntered further, unwilling to waste more time, till I finally approached the receptionist who looked at me with so much confusion. I could tell she wanted to ask how I got in.

I was still in the dirty sweatpants, and my hair looked no better than a bird's nest, but I couldn't care less. I smiled politely, "I'm here to see Mr Damian Kincaid."

"What's the occasion? Do you have an appointment?" She politely asked, but I could already see the judgment on her face.

All I felt was crippling fear and anxiety. I needed to snap out of it. This had to be done.

"No, I don't," I placed my hand on the counter and leaned in closer. "Why don't you inform him? Tell him it's a blackmail."