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“Listen, maybe you think you did a good deed last night by bringing the nerdy drunk girl home, but I can take care of myself. Besides, you have no business telling me what I can and can’t do. Most of the kids at school believe you are a God or some form of royalty just because...” my words trailed off as I suddenly realized what I was about to say.
Ason’s eyes flared red with rage. “Just because what?” he asked, daring me to finish my sentence.
“Just because you think you are powerful,” I corrected, though we both knew that wasn’t what I had intended to say at all. “You believe the whole world wants to bow down to you.”
No, I wanted to tell him that just because he came from mafia royalty, didn’t mean that I was one of his peasants. I wasn’t one of the girls who fawned over him, hoping to get a glimpse into his dangerous world. I had higher standards for myself.
Ason nodded and his eyes flashed with hurt. It almost caught me off guard. I felt like I may be sick again and I wasn’t sure if it was from the hangover I was now experiencing or the thought of insulting and hurting Ason.
Ason stood, his tall frame towering over me as I shrunk against my bedframe. He moved to the edge of the bed, leaning over so that his face was close to mine. “Let me tell you something, you have no idea just how powerful I truly am. If I wanted to hurt you last night or even right now,” he said, a faint of a smile creeping over his angered face, “you would be long gone by now. A nice, thank you, would have sufficed,” he finished, shooting daggers at me with his heated glare.
I gulped as I stared back at him. We both knew that Ason could destroy my life in one second if he wanted to. But, he hadn’t. Instead, he had brought me home. Put me in my bed. Watched me all night...but why?
I knew I should have kept my mouth shut, but the stubborn side of me was out-winning the logical and rational side. “Why did you help me?” I asked.
Something flashed across his face that I couldn’t comprehend. It was sudden and fierce and yet, I didn’t understand it at all.
Releasing what could only be described as a growl, Ason pushed himself away from my bed and began moving toward my bedroom door. As he opened the door, he turned one last time and looked at me.
“You should be more careful who you let into your house,” he warned, and then slammed my door closed.
I winced at the loud bang and my head instantly began hurting again. Tears formed in my eyes and I couldn’t hold them back. My body was in pain and my heart was aching. I had no idea what had just happened, but I knew that I would never be the same again.
My phone buzzed on the bedside table and I could barely make out the texts from my parents. Tears blurred my vision, but I was still able to read their apologizes for coming home late last night and leaving early this morning. They hadn’t even realized that I had come home drunk. Or, that Ason Antoni—the son of a killer and mafia boss—had spent the night in my bedroom.
Ason’s warning or advice-- not sure which it was truly intended to be, rang through my mind. Little did he know that in my world, I was always alone so worrying about who came into my home wasn’t on my radar.
My phone buzzed again and this time, I couldn’t ignore the sound. Sighing, I grabbed the phone and expected to see another one of the rapid texts, but what I saw shocked the hell out of me.
Ason: Take the Tylenol I left on your dresser. There is a bottle of water, too.
I had to read the text three more times before I actually believed the words were real and not a figment of my imagination. Staring blankly at my phone, so many emotions and questions swirled in my head. How did Ason get my number? Why would he even text me? He was a perplexing creature that I doubted I would ever understand.
Me: Thanks. How did you get my number?
I watched as the tiny bubbles danced across my screen. I knew that I should probably block his number or turn my phone off completely. But instead, I gave in to my own intrigue and waited for his response.
Ason: I added my number to your phone, and yours to mine while you were passed out. You know, you need to be more careful who you trust.
His words of advice were much more like a warning. I didn’t trust Ason, that much I knew for sure.
Me: Don’t worry, I have never trusted anyone before, so I won’t start now.
Ason never wrote back and even though I felt a tiny pang of hurt at this lack of a response, I knew that it was for the best.
