Be Quiet and Drive

*15) Sharp Intelligence

༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻

Michael kisses me.

My boss.

He pulls away slowly, our faces still close, noses almost touching.

I meet his eyes, he's staring, eyelashes thick and lengthy, eyes dark brown and focused. I turn my head slightly to glance at the men outside, Charlie crouching, hands over his mouth, Rem looking as if he was going to explode.

I enlace my fingers in Michael's hair and pull him in again. He returns the favour, hands grasping to pull me towards him however he can, simultaneously lowering himself over the sofa to sit next to me.

I shouldn't be doing this. Everything about this is wrong. I try to get lost in the feeling of closeness of intimacy, but there's a nagging in the back of my head telling me to get out.

He slips his tongue into my mouth, and I invite it, my body moving despite my brain. His hands caress across my thighs up to my hips, taking the waist of my joggers and pulling me towards him, my ass sliding across the leather of the sofa towards him. I'm practically sat on him.

My heart rate increases as he continues to pull me in, his hands touching me, gliding across me, sending tingles up my spine.

Michael moves in closer, pushing me back onto the sofa. His fingertips run down my stomach before palming my sensitive area firmly.

I grab his wrist. There's something about his desperation that's scaring me. I push at his shoulder with my other hand, but he continues to kiss me. I open my eyes and turn my head away from him, Charlie and Rem are trying to open the door again, the sounds of banging clearing through the fog as soon as I see them.

I yelp as the tall man bites at my neck, sucking and kissing down from my jawbone. "Agh! Stop." I grit my teeth and push him harder. He doesn't budge, triceps engaging as he holds my waist.

He seemingly relents, sitting up onto his knees, but he instead reaches for the knife I left on the coffee table.

"Fuck, Michael!" I shout, throat tearing with my panic. I take his wrist, but the knife is already resting across the gullet, the cool edge of the blade steering my flushed skin.

He shushes me, eerily calm for a mam threatening his assistant with a butchers knife. "Just relax, Y/n."

I squeeze my eyes shut, colourful dots buzzing behind my eyelids. The banging, the touch, the thin edge, the firm sofa, the pillow pressing into my back uncomfortably, hot breath, fabric tight and loose on skin, that heat and numbness spreading to the back of my head, so my nape, across my skull into my forehead.

What is the escape from this?

When will I snap out of it?

How do I fix this?

Then nothingness, weightlessness... Well, the pillow is still pressing against my spine, and where I'm led on my top, it's cutting off some blood circulation to my arm.

I brush my fingers along my throat, feeling where the knife used to be, pulling my hand away to review the possibility of blood. Thankfully, not.

I breathe deep breaths, the ceiling so spotless. I sat. Michael had dropped the knife and stood in front of the window, his phone to his ear.

With the back of my hand, I wipe the sweat from my forehead. Charlie stops kicking the door, reaching into his pocket and putting his own phone to his ear.

Unfortunately, I can only hear one side of the conversation.

"I'd like to make a deal with you both."

I see Charlie's mouth moving, Rem grabs the phone and puts it on speaker.

"I know." Michael still sounds so calm. "Yes, I know. This is why I want to make a deal.... Please calm down, or we'll get nowhere."

Michael huffs, pulling the phone from his ear, running a hand through his hair, the men outside clearly shouting, going as far as to bang on the glass again.

"Fine, yeah, yeah. Okay. If you're going to be like this, I'll have to take more drastic measures."

They continue to shout and hit the glass, Michael however hangs up and approaches me, picking up the knife on his way.

He puts his hands up as he gets closer, "I apologise, Y/n. I am sorry for my behavior, I got carried away, and I slipped up. I'm not asking for your forgiveness, but I'm hoping that everyone can come to an agreement, including you." He squats next to me, getting to my level.

I'm terrified. I keep thinking about my mother.

"My plan is to hold you hostage in front of them for a bit, get them to come in, get them to sit down so that we can all talk things through."

I can feel the world falling apart around me, anxiety bubbling up in my chest. "What's in this for me?"

A rare sight, Mr Aston flashes a small smile, "That's part of what will be discussed, we'll all voice our wants, needs and opinions. This is the best way to do this. The most civilised."

I take a deep breath, looking at the men outside yelling at eachother.

Maybe this is the best way, the most grown up way of dealing with whatever is going on. I can find out truths, figure out how much has been lies. Tell them what I want and hope that they will respect it.

Here's the first test. "I want to go outside to them, rather than be inside."

Michael pauses, I can see the cogs turning in his brain, "How come?"

"I feel trapped in here and I could do with some fresh air." I speak with conviction, if he denies me this then I know for sure that my best interest is not in mind. I mean, the man just assaulted me on many levels, he's dangerous, my best bet is to be outside where I can potentially run and hide in the woods surrounding his small mansion.

"Of course." He stands and pets my hair. "Okay, in that case..." He hands me the knife, the wooden handle warm. "You go first out the door. I've got your back. Tell them to sit and to behave."

I laugh one "Ha." The silence following encapsulating the room.