Cindy and Roger had been married a little over four months now. They met in Vegas, woke up the next morning married and decided to try and make it work. In my opinion, that was the wrong way to go.
Every other week they seemed to be having troubles. They would fight and Cindy would disappear for a few days.
I didn’t know how Roger put up with it. Obviously, I didn’t see all sides of him but I knew he deserved better than to be treated like a part-time roommate, by his wife.
As always, I kept my trap shut. In a few days’ time, they’d be back together and everything would be forgotten. “I’m sure it’ll all work out Roger.”
He made a noise I mistake as a murmur of agreement. Two seconds later and I regret standing so close to the drink riddled man. The cab pulls up to the curb just as Roger curls over and chucks up right next to my feet.
A shiver of disgust rolls down my spine, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened.
“Oh god, Nik. I’m so sorry man.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I gave him a soft clap on the shoulder as he slid into the back seat of the cab. I shut the door behind him and rattled off the address to the driver. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
Ugh. It had been a long night. I couldn’t wait to get home...and have a nice hot shower. Not long to go now.
I hated these late nights, I felt like I was missing out on time with Anastasia. Especially when work was boring at the minute. Tonight, for instance. Running security for the casino can usually be fun, no doubt we get some colorful characters in there. But, all night, the only patron I had to deal with was a drunk regular.
I didn’t know if it was me or the crowd, but things just seemed different tonight. The whole night I couldn’t keep my eyes off the clock. I counted my blessings that I was only filling in temporarily, next week Ryan would be back from holiday and things would resume as normal. I would go back on standby, ready to run to the rescue at a moment's notice.
That was me. Mr. Fix-It. That had been my unofficial job title for the past decade, or longer.
When I was younger, I liked the danger that came with being the King family muscle. I was stupid to think that the adrenaline rush wouldn’t wear off.
Of course, the next time I saw Ryan I would definitely be asking how the fuck he was on his feet for so long every night. The guy was in his fifties, twenty years my senior, and he hadn’t ever complained about stiff muscles. I was tired and my whole body ached, definitely not a good combination.
The house was dark, which I had anticipated. Anastasia would be long gone to dreamland by now.
As I made my way through the house, I tried moving from memory as to not wake Ana by turning on the lights. I made a stop by the living room to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep on the sofa again. I’d noticed that she liked to try and wait up for me, but mostly that just ended in her falling asleep with the TV on and waking up with a stiff neck.
Finding no sign of her, I climbed the stairs heading to my room. I couldn’t help but hesitate as I glanced towards Anastasia’s door. Knowing that she was so close, every single night, it was torture. After everything, it frustrated me beyond belief that she still insisted on keeping her own ‘room’.
I wanted her with me.
She’d be sleeping with me soon enough. I didn’t want to use force but if this continued on for much longer I wouldn’t have a choice. She wasn’t leaving me with a choice, so I’d take away hers.
I was at damn near breaking point.
I huffed out in frustration as I shuffled into the bedroom. Low light shone in the room. The bedside lamp had been left on...but I didn’t remember doing that.
Someone had been in here.
I scanned the room in search of an intruder. What I found was not what I’d expected.
Hidden beneath my bed sheets lay a figure. I’d guessed who it was. I edged forward to take a closer look. There she was, clutching a pillow with her hair sprawled across the sheets. My Ana was fast asleep, in my bed.
I tiptoed past the bed, watching her every step of the way to the en suite. She didn’t stir, her breaths were soft and even. Her hair had fallen over her face, veiling her from the world around us. From me. I yearned to move her hair but didn’t want to risk waking her up. Lord knows she needed the sleep.
I wondered what brought her in here. Was she waiting up for me? Was she lonely? Had she planned to seduce me?
Not that I needed any seducing.
She knew that I desired her. She knew, or at least I hoped she knew, that I thought she was beautiful and fierce. Maybe I should tell her that…
Suddenly, Anastasia stirred. Her arm slid from below the pillow, and she turned over with a sleepy sigh. She wasn’t awake, but the movement broke me from my reverie. I blinked. A small stupid smile that I couldn’t fight spread across my face as I turned to the door of the en suite. The door opened soundlessly with a gentle push and the ceiling light came on as I stepped inside.
The cream tiles beneath my feet were harshly cold - a sharp contrast to the inferno of lust and need raging within me. I softly nudged the door closed behind me, trying hard not to make a sound but with each second that ticked by another reason to close the door became more apparent.
