Page 102 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

Did I take the excuse as soon as one had been offered to me? I’d rejected becoming his property, but its more than that. I never want to be dependent on another man again, and Niran’s insistence that he wanted to be with me, even to the extent that he’d move with me and start a life somewhere new, had terrified me. How could I, Saffie, with all her problems, hold any attraction for a man like him?

It’s been forty-eight hours since I last saw the man, and he still haunts my thoughts.

A fresh start would do me good.My apartment’s still crap. The arguments still go on around me as if I’d never been away. My neighbours still have noisy sex, feet continue to stomp past my door all hours of the day or night and loud music constantly blares. It’s not too much different from the clubhouse, except no one wears leather, and dealers and druggies tend to be the ones skulking about.

If I leave, I’ll never see Niran again.But I won’t anyway. I’ve no way of contacting him, and he’s not bothered to follow up with me. Of course not. He’s got an old lady waiting in the wings. But the more I try to tell myself that, the more I think that note was a sham. But what does it matter now?

As I knew I’d be leaving in a matter of days, I quit my job the first day I was back, in reality not wanting the bother of going anymore. Without any reason to go out, time hangs heavy on my hands and I’m left with far too much time to think and far too many of my thoughts involve Niran.

If I sit on the couch, I remember him sitting next to me. When I go to the kitchen, I recall him making coffee or pulling some food together and encouraging me to eat. His presence is somehow constant, making me wonder whether I’ve made a mistake. But I know I haven’t. A man like him wouldn’t be good for me, he’d want more than I’m prepared to give. Even if the note writer lied and he hasn’t already, he’ll soon find someone more appropriate for him.

I go through the motions, doing laundry out of habit, washing up the few plates I’ve used, putting things away to keep the place tidy, basically just ticking along.

Having finished my tasks, I stand in the middle of the living room. I’ve got to start packing as I’ll be leaving soon. But what to take and what to leave? Will I have transport to take furniture with me, or just take what I can fit in my car? Of course, if it’s New York I’m going to, my car will never get me there. In that case, I’ll more likely be limited what I can carry in a suitcase on the plane.

Telling myself I need to know before I can begin, I leave everything where it is. I’ve just sat on the couch, my head leaned back and my eyes closed when the doorbell rings and startles me.

Who would come calling?

Pulling myself to my feet, I go to the door and stare out of the peephole.

It’s Niran.

I don’t know whether to be pleased or dismayed. My initial instinct is to pretend I’m not in. I don’t want to see him; don’t want to hear what he’s got to say. I don’t want to give him the chance to persuade me to stay. All my reasons for not seeing him remain valid.

But he’s persistent, ringing again, and this time also knocking loudly. When I hear my neighbour start to complain, I get angry he’s got the nerve to come here, and for bringing attention to me. Before I can have second thoughts, I fling open the door ready to give him a piece of my mind, words on my lips ready to tell him to go away and stop bothering me, but he strides straight in without giving me a chance to say anything.

I stand, my hands on my hips, my mouth open.

“We need to talk, Saffie.” He eyes my apartment with a twist to his mouth, then grinds down on his heel.

Another cockroach?I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I hear the giveaway crack. Although I can keep my place clean, they flood in from other not so kempt apartments.

While I’m stifling the need to apologise for the unsanitary conditions, he turns his eyes to me. The depth of his penetrating stare makes me feel uneasy. I look away and address the wall instead of the man himself.

Even though my heart gives a leap at seeing him again, I know how wrong he and I would be whether or not he’s already tied. I could never give him what he wants from me. I decide to give my case straight from the start. “The only thing you’ve got to say that I’ll listen to is if you’re here to tell me the plans for me leaving are sorted.”

“I’m not. I’m here to talk to you about us.”

“There’s no us,” I mutter.

“Saffie, look at me.” Stubbornly, I stay turned to the wall.

I hear him sigh. “Saffie, why did you leave that night? Why didn’t you stay and talk to me?”

Because it’s been all I can think about, I blurt out, “Because you’ve already got an old lady. I know, Niran. I know you’ve been lying to me.”

“I got a what?” I hear confusion in his voice, then he growls, “What did you just say?”

There’s a tremor in my voice as I tell him, “I said I know you have an old lady. And if she can’t meet your needs, I certainly wouldn’t be able to fulfil them. You’re better off with the club whores.”

“Old lady? Club whores?” He sounds perplexed. “Saffie, I certainly haven’t got, nor ever had, an old lady and I’ve no clue why you’d think I have. As for the club whores, all they could complain about is that I never use their services. Once or twice, maybe, when I first joined the club. But never on the regular, and not once since I met you. I’ve not got my dick wet elsewhere either.” A touch of anger taints his tone.

“I got a note,” I spit at him. “It told me to ask you about your old lady.”

“A fuckin’ note? When? That night?” When I nod, he rakes his hands over his head. “Christ, Saffie.” His eyes pierce me. “So why didn’t you talk to me? Fuck, I thought we had something between us, and you go and believe that?” His face goes blank. “You just believed it,” he repeats with resignation. Then his expression starts to change as his already dark colouring deepens, and his eyes fill with rage. His hands clench, his body vibrates.

Though I should be scared, I sense I’ve got nothing to fear from him. In fact, I roll back my head, defiantly staring up at him, daring him to contradict what I’ve been told.

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