Chapter 4 (Inflicting More Pain)

Aurora POV

It was the next morning, and I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop remembering what happened in the living room. Is he going to divorce me? Is he going to inform Mr. King I almost killed him? I kept thinking of the worst scenario, screaming into the pillow anytime I remember. I also thought about how I will break the awful news to my boss. He won’t want to let me go and he has been my backbone for 5 years. I was conflicted about killing Dexter or apologizing for what I did. I flinched hearing the knock on my door. I breathe out, standing up and walking to the door. I opened it and Mary stood in front of me.

“Good morning Mrs. King, Mr. King wants you in his bedroom,” she said and I bit my lips. I’m so fucked.

“Um, how is he? How is his head?” I asked.

“He had a horrible night, the push gave him severe headache, he couldn’t sleep, and we called the doctors this morning. They just left after prescribing some medications,” she said and I gasped. Was it that bad? I’m so dead.

“Oh my God,” I mumbled, covering my open mouth.

“He asks you now,” she said, walking away. I breathe out, chewing my finger. How do I face him now? 

“Lord help me,” I mumbled, closing my door. I took very slow steps to his room. When I got to the room, I stood in front of the door, contemplating if I should pack my loads and run or knock. After a lot of contemplating, I knocked slowly.

“Come in,” his voice boomed, and I felt even more terrible at how tired his voice sounded. Mary wasn’t joking. I opened the door slowly, taking slow steps inside his room. I got a whiff of his scent as I entered, and I was so mesmerised at how good his room smelt. I looked around the spacious room; the walls were a dark colour, and there was a king-sized bed in the middle of the room. On the right side of the room is a huge window leading to a balcony, but the white curtains covered it, and on the left side of the room is a glass door leading to the bathroom. 

      The glass is tainted, so I can’t see anything and at the other edge is an opened closet, a really huge closet. There is also a wine bar and a huge frame of him; his room is so cool. However, all the blood drained out of my face as our eyes connected and he looked at me in sheer anger. I walked towards him, trying to ignore the bandage on his forehead. He looked really sick, and I felt even more pity.

“Good morning, Mr. King,” I mumbled, playing with my fingers.

“Who sent you?” he asked, and I looked up, confused. Sent me? Send me for what?

“Who sent you to kill me?” He snapped, and I flinched. I quickly went down on my knees.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. King, I didn’t mean to push you; it was in the heat of the moment. You were so close, and our lips were almost touching, and I panicked. Please forgive me,” I cried out, and he sat up, looking at me like I was an alien. 

“Why are you so stupid and clumsy?” he asked, and I looked down. I deserve all the insults thrown at me.

“Were you trying to kill me because I told you to quit your job?” he asked, and I shook my head repeatedly.

“Of course not, I would never,” I said. 

“How can the daughter of the Brown family work in such a little Italian restaurant?” he asked, and I kept quiet. No one knew I was even related to them; my boss was shocked when he saw me on the news, getting married to him. I was happy he didn’t judge me; instead, he asked if I was okay, and that made me cry. He sighed.

“What are you going to do about this?” he asked, pointing at his head. I stood up, running to him.

“I am very good at giving head massages; my grandmother used to enjoy my massages. Just...” he cut me off, pushing me away.

“Stay away from me!” He screamed and groaned as he held the back of his head. I stood there in panic, wondering what was wrong with him.

“Get me water, damn it!” he screamed, and I flinched, looking around the room. I spotted a bottle of water on the wine bar, and I ran to it, grabbing it. I quickly opened it, handling it, and he gulped it down in a go, closing his eyes as he slumped on the bed, breathing out. I bite my lips; he is going to forever hate me and try to make my life miserable. Why do I keep inflicting pain on him? He opened his eyes, and it was red, and I whimpered, looking at my toes.

“Who sent you to kill me?” he asked, and I shook my head.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled.

“Sorry? You tried to kill me twice,” he growled, and I worried for him. He was screaming, and that will only add to his condition.

“Please try to relax, Mr. King; you will only add to your headache,” I said before my mouth could stop me. The room went silent, and I slowly looked up, and he was looking at me, shocked. 

“Get out,” he said, and I opened my mouth to talk, but he cut me off.

“Get out!” he screamed, and I ran out like my pants were on fire, not stopping until I got to my room. I slammed my door shut, locking it, and I went to my bed, slumping on it as I screamed out. How can I make more mistakes while trying to apologise for the damages I caused before? I really didn’t mean to push him, and I had no idea he was this sensitive.

“Unless he had hit his head hard,” I mumbled, remembering how I pushed him. I pushed him very hard; I had no idea where I got the strength from. I sighed, standing up and just deciding to deliver the resignation letter I wrote in the night. I just hope my boss lets go of me easily. I went to the bathroom, feeling my headache approaching.

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

I walked inside the house, exhausted. It definitely didn’t go how I hoped it would; my boss didn’t want to let go of me and even offered to talk to Dexter, and I told him plainly that is something he shouldn’t even think about. But I promised to come to the restaurant once in a while to help them out; they don’t need to pay me or anything. 

      I am just worried now how I am going to find another job that will suit Mr. Dexter King’s taste because I can’t be jobless. After this marriage ends, there is no home for me with my family, and I don’t want to go back there and continue to suffer the abuse they put me through, and I know there was no way Mr. King would want to keep me after everything I did. I sighed, entering the kitchen, and Mary was with the other maids, ordering them around.

“Quick, his dinner time is coming soon,” she instructed. I looked at the tray on the kitchen island; there were some drugs on it, and I looked at them. They must be for his leg. If he is taking them, why is his leg not healing? I actually don’t know how damaged his legs are, but if the doctors prescribed this, it means there is hope for his legs, yet I don’t see any healing. I was about to take one of the drugs, and Mary stopped me.

“You’re back, Mrs. King,” she said, and I looked at her, forgetting the drugs. I smiled, nodding my head.

“How is he?” I asked. 

“He is doing better. Do you want us to fix something for you to eat?” she asked. I normally would love to cook something for myself, but today I was exhausted, so I nodded my head.

“I will freshen up,” I said, about to leave the kitchen.

“Mr. King wants you in his bedroom by 8 pm on the dot,” she said, and I stopped in my tracks, all colour draining from my face, and all I could think was what he wanted. This is so messed up.