HOOKED

CHAPTER FIVE

My mind was a mess, taken aback by the many bombs that dropped on me. However, I would not call them bad bombs like ones that cause damage. Maybe I could refer to them as bath bombs instead. That sounds nicer. Cringe. But they were still 'bombs' that all dropped on me at once, catching me off guard.

I was on my way home after Jeremy and I both had a good sarcastic laugh at figuring how tricksily fate had worked its course and, by the whimsical plays of destiny, we happened to be the very blind dates our parents had chosen for us beforehand. I was unsure if this was a good thing or perhaps not. But my mind was not yet prepared to settle and ready to figure that out. It was currently still spinning with all the random scenarios and theories of various kinds beyond imaginations that were overwhelming me.

Leaving my motorcycle behind for one of our peons to pick it up from the restaurant later, I was in a rented cab that was taking me home. I could not risk driving when my mind was occupied with all the thoughts that could fog my vision on the road.

Truth be told, I was not disappointed. In fact, what rather flustered me was that my mother's taste did not seem to turn out that bad afterall; perhaps, I overreacted with her.

I did not want to allow myself to be fazed at all nor let my guards rest low at any cost. I happen to be immensely cautious at all times. Yet, this man somehow would manage to touch me bare despite all the layers of protection I had put up for the outer world. Taking into account how nervous Jeremy made me every time he was close enough, in a manner as if I was paper and he was both fire and water itself, setting me ablaze while drenching me at the same time, leaving me defenseless, maybe he was not that bad of a choice. Considerable.

The only thing that held me back was that, despite all his fancy exterior that attracted me, I doubted if his interior was the very same. It was as if he was a cake in my favorite colored frosting of choice, but a strawberry cake. And what if what I wanted was chocolate instead. I had the maturity in me to realize that marriage was something not to be taken lightly and that was a huge decision to be made. I could not hastily take the decision of settling for a strawberry cake for the sake of the fancy frosting. So I chose to hold onto my horses and not let them take their run yet.

At that moment, I recalled how my mother mentioned that there was a contract that would interest me or she would not be tempting me so much. I don't happen to remember Jeremy having a contract or anything to present to me when he figured I was the date he was supposed to meet tonight. He was rather occupied with being intrigued by our situation, as if it was a satisfaction. Part of me was skeptical if he himself was the one to set this coincidence up, but the look of surprised pleasure that was visible on his face was proof he had not seen the shot coming at him either. But to him it was not the shot of an arrow but one of tequila for an alcoholic instead. He was pleased, as if luck had favored him. And I must admit that the relief on his face alone had me wanting to consider him even if he was different from the flavor I probably had been fond of so far.

Paying the driver, shortly thanking them for their effort and casually wishing them a good day out of genuine courtesy, I exited the car and stomped towards my home. The big fancy gates of steel that screamed it was the residence of the Dallarosas, were closed and it burdened me to see that our irresponsible guard was not on spot for duty.

Our home was a triplex house built on my great grandfather's grounds, originally designed and built under the choice of my grandmother who happened to be an architect in her days. She also happened to prove that her genes were not passed down to me by the slightest bit. This house did not suit my taste at all because this house was designed in more of a colonial style and sort of resembled an ancient Greek temple and, despite the aesthetics of it, I liked more of a modern kind with lots and lots of glass over cement. But perhaps this is what was classier in her generation. The residence alongside the little yard by it was passed down to their only child, my mother, upon her marriage as per my grandmother's Will and so, after the demise of my father, we happened to move in here.

Neither did I inherit the gene of being studious, as I was more of a physically hard-working kind than a mental one, nor was I white like all her children and so on. I was the first child out of her descendants who was born with skin that was more of a caramel tone than vanilla, which my old woman happened to find a tragedy; the disappointment being evident on her face every time she met me.

Shrugging off, I slipped my hand in through the bars of the metal gates, trying to manage a way to open the gate for myself. And to my success, it worked.

"We will be robbed out of this fortune, someday." I muttered, clearly pissed. A sigh escaped my lips afterwards.

I was not someone who becomes a victim of rage very easily. But as a matter of fact, I do get annoyed pretty easily because everything knows how to pick at my sensitivity. I have managed to learn how to control it so I do not burst out and get mad at everything that ticks off my rage. I consider that a good quality, but it only often advantages others instead of me.

I walked past the garden, steaming off and cooling myself down on the way as I entered the house. I figured the house was empty from hearing no voice as I entered. Usually, my mother is often on the phone speaking with a relative who lives abroad or a neighbourhood lady who she has made her recent friend. And so her voice is always ringing around the house. I do not blame her though. After losing my father, she found distraction in engaging with other people to be busy and getting through her day.

I walked around the ground floor of the house, taking a casual walk to the kitchen first to pour myself some apple juice from the fridge before taking a stroll around the hallways to the living room until I was confirmed that she really was not home. Sighing out, liking the feeling of having the house to myself, I took a walk to the second floor up the main staircase of the house because that is where my bedroom was situated.

I randomly took off my leather jacket that I had styled my outfit with and my boots were already taken off when I entered the house. I began to unbutton the top part of the bodycon I was dressed in before I casually pulled up the dress and off of me while climbing the stairs and reaching the second floor; no concern working in me as I was home alone. The clothes were loosely hanging on my forearm, I was now in just a matching set of nylon spandex bikini that was in the color burgundy.

My lips hummed along to the lyrics of a random t****k audio which was stuck inside my head as I headed to my bedroom and it was at that moment when I was taken aback by the biggest surprise of the day, like Jeremy Peterson showing up as my date was not enough. The very man was present in my bedroom with his shirt off.

Jeremy was standing tall, his back facing towards me. He was wearing the same pants he was a few hours ago but the jeans were hanging loose at his hips because of his belt being undone. His shirt was off, only the lord knew where it went.

Being startled at seeing his form in my bedroom, a loud gasp escaped me as I tripped back but only to fall on my ass on the ground. Of course, my loud scream reached him like a call to turn around as I tried picking myself up quickly but failed to do so in such haste. I quickly pulled the clothes that were in my arms to cover myself as much as I could.

He turned around, a chuckle softly escaping his lips because he sealed them inwards to wet them with his tongue. His front was exposed to me as he turned to face me and, to my misfortune, this man had to have 6-pack abs which could have me down on my knees because f**k. However, I was already on my ass on the floor before he could even face me.

His body was built, his arms looking even more muscular with them exposed than when they were clothed and his abs were so fine as if he was moulded by the one used for chocolate bars. But f**k chocolate, he was a strawberry cake like I tried figuring earlier... and it was having me grow victim with all the interest in the world to step out of my box and taste the flavor.

"What a pleasure, Ms. Siena Dallarosa. We meet again." There was so much mockery and evil satisfaction in that tone of his. But with this man looking like that and speaking with a voice as melodiously raspy as his, nothing could be sexier.

"What a surprise..heh." His eyes examined me with contentment. What a f*****g surprise indeed.