Six

Mark Rexona was a schedule oriented man. He had a fixed time for a particular activity and made sure not to exceed the time. Many people saw him as weird, others said he had a weird strand of autism but Mark didn't care. He has his own set of rules which he swore to follow to the core.

He woke strictly at 5:00 AM. No alarm and no hesitation. Just a mental resolve and his ever punctual biological clock.

By 5:05, he was in the gym. Stretching then off to the weights. After that is a treadmill run then a series of push-ups. Every rep counted was , every drop of sweat calculated. He did hid workout without a single bit of distraction, no phone, no calls, no nothing. Just him alone in his underground basement gym.

By 5:55 Mark was done for the morning. Then he hit the cold shower. Scalding water was for weak men trying to feel something. Mark didn’t need to feel. He needed control, and to get control he believed he needed to train his body to withstand anything and everything possible.

At exactly 6:15 am he was in the kitchen. A protein shake was what he had first. No sugar, no dairy, no flavor. He sliced an apple with surgical precision, wiped the counter twice, and sat in silence at the bar. His house was lonely and cold. He hated other people being in his space. He had managed to tolerate his employees at the office but he was not going to irritate himself by bringing more people into his house. He cooked and cleaned all by himself. He had a nanny that would come once in a while to do a professional deep cleansing of the entire house and that was it.

His penthouse was high, sleek, immaculate and off high maintenance. The city could crumble beneath him and not a speck of dust would touch his floor. He liked it that way. The feeling of being above everyone and having to answer to no one but himself. He found people loud, annoying and untruthful. And so to protect his sanity and personal life he decided to stay far away from them.

Routines made the world predictable. Patterns made people manageable. Schedules kept chaos on a leash. Life was a machine, and he was the man who could take it apart, piece by piece, and rebuild it better every time.

People said that kind of life was sterile. Cold and empty. But for Mark, it was power. Power was knowing what came next. Power was no surprises, and not being caught off guard.

And then, there was her.

Teresa.

His new secretary with a soft voice, eyes too wide, and hands that trembled slightly when she passed him a document. There was nothing predictable about her. Her steps were too light to track. Her eyes darted like a startled animal's. Her scent lingered like a challenge to his soul and everything he stood upon.

She didn't fit into his equation.

His phone buzzed on the table. With an emotionless face, he picked up the phone. It was a message from Lukas, his best friend and the only person who seemed to tolerate his weird attitude.

"There is a show at the club tonight. You probably won’t come, but I’ll ask anyway. Starts by 8:45."

Mark stared at the message. Lukas had been his friend since highschool, the only man who managed to keep pace with him. Lukas was chaos in leather gloves, but he had his uses, especially when it came to understanding things Mark had no interest in. People, family, women and mostly sex.

He hadn’t had sex since he was 17. It was Lukas that egged him on and found a girl for him.

"It's just a hook up," he had said,"no feelings and no strings attached." And so he agreed, he was hooked up with a clumsy classmate, who underwhelmed him by moaning too loudly and left him utterly baffled and unimpressed. He remembered thinking,That’s it? This is what everyone obsesses over? Sex was then tagged as not interesting, overreacted and an activity that he would not be undergoing again.

But that mindset had changed ever since Teresa walked into his office. Her scent for one was what drew her to him. It wasn't like other women's perfumes. It was a sweet subtle scent that reminded him of roses and cake. It smelt so natural like she was secreting it from her skin. She lingered in his thoughts a little too much than she should.

He was confused about what was going on and he needed help. He needed clarity.

“I’ll be there.” He typed and sent it.

He stood up and washed the dishes that he used. Once he was done, he headed up to his room to get ready for the day. Once he stepped into his walk in wardrobe his gaze lingered on a particular he wore when Teresa had mumbled about how handsome he looked. He knew about his physical features, it was nothing new to him but her words affected him in ways it shouldn't have. He had the urge to wear the suit again, which was baffling because he never wore the same suit within three weeks of when he last wore it.

She was changing something in him and he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. He didn't understand what was the strange attraction he had for her.

Her voice trembled when she spoke to him. Her scent clung to the office like forbidden sugar. He didn’t understand why she stirred something. Something unnamed and unpleasantly alive.

He had reread her reports three times that morning. They were flawless. Still, he considered calling her in. For what, he wasn’t sure. He just wanted to see her, and watch her squirm in his presence. He noticed how affected she was when he was near and he had a sick satisfaction of some sort.

He hated questions. And Teresa? She was becoming one. And now, for the first time in years, he had said yes to a club invitation.

He didn't know what bothered him more, his growing curiosity, or the fact that he wanted to see her blush again.