Page 4 of Aching for His Discretion

“Diavolo, p-please. P-please, I’ll have the money soon!” the man on the floor begged, cutting my thoughts as I was no longer focused on the woman who had my pants tightening by just the mere thought of her.

“‘Soon’… I’m not quite a fan of that word, you know. I have a fucking business to run,” I muttered, annoyed, and he shook his head.

“I know. Believe me, I-I know. I-I just need more time—” he began, but he didn’t get much further as my fist found his jaw, sending him across the room into his wall.

“And I need my fucking money, Mitchel… I gave you enough time,” I practically growled, storming over to him as I gripped his collar in my hands. Hitting his body against the wall, he whined in pain as I glared into his eyes. He was lucky I hadn’t kicked his ribs in and let him bleed out on his shitty apartment floor.

“I don’t think you were worried about needing more time when you snorted ten kilograms of cocaine like a fucking addict, huh? Were you fucking worried about it then?!”

He cowered away from me as tears spilled from his eyes and blood leaked from his head. Throwing him to the ground, I pulled out my brass knuckle rings as he held his hands up in fear.

“Please, Diavolo, please—” he began, and I paused as I heard the faint sound of a door opening down the hall. The low murmur of a voice sounded like it was coming from next door.

I knew there were tenants in this building, but oddly, I had never encountered anyone on Mitchel’s floor.

Glaring down at him, I muttered, “Got a friendly neighbor next door, huh?”

His eyes seemed to widen as I stared at him expectantly. After a moment, he shook his head, fear clearly in his eyes as he spoke.

“She—she doesn’t know anything. She lives by herself, and she barely says anything to me. I-I promise. Sh-she probably didn’t hear anything,” he reasoned, and as if on cue, small sounds began to emit from his front door.

It sounded more like scratches than knocks, but it was distracting nonetheless. Putting away my brass rings, I made my way through his shitty apartment toward the front door.

“You sure about that?”

Upon getting closer, my eyebrows furrowed slightly as I could hear… purring?

Opening the door, I expected to see the so-called neighbor who kept to herself. However, I was met with an odd sight as something ran past my shoes over to its home down the hall.

Given we were on the edge of upstate New York, part of me assumed it was a mouse or rat running by. The last thing I would have expected it to be, however, was… acat.

Chapter three

Teegan

Placing my kettle on the stove as I listened to my recorded lecture for the day, I rubbed my eyes and yawned softly. I was growing tired, but boards were coming up soon, and I had to teach myself something if Dr. Wyatt was going to leave me on my own.

“Grayson, dinner is ready, baby!” I yelled as I placed his bowl on the floor, and like magic, he appeared by my feet and began eating. He was a mix of a Russian Blue cat with a British Shorthair. Or at least that’s what the shelter thought when they brought the little guy in as an abandoned kitten.

With his gray fur, beautiful round eyes, enormous appetite, and feistiness of a cat twice his size, I knew I had to have him. Since day one, he’s been my little kitten fur baby, and I have never thought of him as anything else. When my papa calls him a cat, I have to correct him at times.

I glanced at the clock to see it was eight PM, and I still had about 200 flashcards and four chapters due by the morning. I pouted as I listened to the next few words of the lecture.

“No one said this was going to be easy, but it’s not rocket science,”the lecturer said, pointing to the board, and I closed the laptop as I sighed.

“No... but it sure feels like it is.”

Turning off the stovetop that had finished cooking my alfredo, I set the kitchen island with my plate, a side of garlic bread, and my chamomile tea. As I read my textbook, I indulged in my comfort food happily as Grayson ate alongside me. He ended up in my lap after he’d finished, and I rubbed his head softly as I finished reviewing chapter two.

Through my apartment walls, I heard a few muffled voices and the sound of thumping. It was my neighbor Mitchel. He was around thirty-five years old, lived alone, and was in the process of moving out. He told me some days ago, so I could only assume that was what all the commotion was about.

A few minutes later, the noise had stopped, and there was a knock at my door. I stood up with Grayson in my arms and peeked through the door as I opened it to see my package had come. I squealed softly as I stepped out and noticed the back of the doorman as he went downstairs.

“Thank you, Mr. John!” I said happily, and he gave me a slight wave as he continued down the steps. I let Grayson down to go inside, and he began to fidget. I gasped as he ran over to Mitchel’s door, meowing.

Picking up my package, I called him over. “Grayson, stop! Let’s go inside.”

He ignored me as he stood by the door, purring as he scratched at the base. Suddenly, the door opened, and a blush came to my face as a familiar man stepped out, looking slightly worn out and angry. Grayson rushed back to me and jumped into my arms, causing the man to look at me in confusion.

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