Low command

Corleone pov

I couldn't sleep.

I kept tossing and turning on the large bed that smelled too clean and unfamiliar. I hissed, hating the picture that kept reoccurring in my head.

Every time I closed my eyes, it was the same eyes that looked unreadable and dangerous. My stepbrother. The new head of my department.

Life clearly hated me.

I rolled out of the bed, slipping into cotton shorts that barely covered my ass and the same tank top I wore to dinner except that it was braless.

There would be no one around. It was almost 2am. Everyone would be sleeping. I walked downstairs with light steps. The lights were out, leaving just the dim lamps around on.

I headed into the kitchen, straight for the refrigerator. I opened it gently. I took out a cold bottle of water, tore the cap away, having a little drink. It was soothing enough.

Until I heard a sound. A low hum — it sounded like a cleared throat.

There he was. Martil.

Leaning against the counter shirtless. Loose sweatpants hung low on his upper hips. Tattoos ran wild across his arms and torso, crawling up to his neck.

I could only see black inks under the dim lights, not the drawing itself.

He watched me. He has been there the whole time, watching how I tiptoed, trying not to make a sound — staying there in the shadow like a predator.

My breath hitched. I froze like a statue. "What are you doing?" I asked, hating how his stares made my skin tingle.

His gaze swept over me lazily as if I was an inconvenience — something he didn't want but was forced to. No smirk. No hello.

Since he wouldn't say a word, I turned to leave, holding the bottle in my hands tightly.

"Do you normally walk butt naked?" His deep voice rang out. It sounded raw and careless.

My stomach twisted in embarrassment. How could I have forgotten I was wearing cotton shorts? My ass was directly at his face and he threw it at me like it was nothing.

"And you like walking around half naked in a house you don't own?" I fired back, not willing to go down alone.

Martil raised a brow, rolling something I couldn't see clearly in his other hand. "You mean the same house you and your mother moved into after a five month relationship?"

Ouch.

I didn't expect the comeback.

I hated that he was right. My mom dated Mr Sutton for five months and I was unaware. I knew about their relationship a month ago when she broke the news of moving and changing my school.

What else was expected? Of course, I was mad, accompanied with the breakup with my ex. But I wanted to be happy for her.

My heart skipped a beat. Not from the insult but from the weight and sound of his voice. It was intoxicating and confident.

"You have a problem with that? Take it up with your father!" I straightened my back defiantly.

He rose from the counter, grabbing the grey shirt that laid free at his side and he slipped it on from his head.

I watched the way his arm muscles flexed. The way his triceps reacted when he lifted his arms up. How did he build those? They looked tempting.

"I guess you don't talk much." I muttered, walking past him to the living room, heading for the stairs.

I had no business here with him. I should go back to my room. He was responsible for my suspension too. God, I detested him for that too.

"Only if the conversation is worth it." He replied, walking straight to the front entrance.

I turned back, shooting him a glare that he caught head on. Those eyes again. "You are right. I am sure you wouldn't want to waste your high wisdom on a dumb college girl."

Martil smirked — barely but it was there. "Don't be dramatic. You are not dumb. Just naive."

I hated his nerves. "Excuse me?"

"What? You think people just fall in love, get married and live happily ever after?" He asked, looking at me a little too much that made me shift uncomfortably on my feet.

"Is that why you think love doesn't happen? Because you teach Philosophy and wear sweatpants like a moody teenage boy without a love life?"

Something flickered in his gaze. Anger?

But he chuckled instead, "Have a good night." He opened the door and slammed it shut.

I blinked in shock. We were discussing and he just left me here hanging? We were getting on together. At least, a little, I thought.

I was about to climb the stairs when I heard a low hum outside.

I couldn't ignore it. Curiously, I opened the front door and hurried out.

A motorcycle. It gave a soft turn with low sounds. If you aren't closer, you wouldn't hear the sound.

My lips parted in surprise. Not because of the motorcycle but the god standing beside it.

Martil was no longer in sweatpants. He was fully suited in sleek strong black leather that looked hot.

He threw his head backwards, ruffling his damn hair. Every inch of him screamed forbidden. As much as it smelt like foreign danger, I preferred this look.

Black Zero SF/R? No damn way.

That bike was a dream. Sleek and expensive.

'He is a biker' My brain echoed.

"I want to go with you." I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Martil glanced at me, holding a helmet that shimmered under the porch lights,

"You have no idea where I am going." He looked away, putting on the helmet.

I had always wanted to ride. But between mom’s rules and my empty pockets, it never happened. Obviously.

"I don't care. I want to go with you." I insisted, my tone was firmer this time. It seemed I was the one with the bluntness now.

He didn't respond. He mounted the motorcycle.

"Go back inside, Corley." A low command.

It is Corleone, you asshole.

But the bike whirled quietly out of my sight and he disappeared into the night.