Page 61 of Influence

Frustration gnawed at me.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, exasperated.

What roadblock had she turned into today?

I muttered to myself, “Fuck this,” and got up to pursue her.

I spotted her on the terrace outside our bedroom, a slender figure silhouetted against the night sky as she stared out at the lush gardens below.

“Laya!” I demanded, approaching her from behind.

She slowly turned, her gaze locking onto me with a fierce glare before she looked away dismissively.

“Leave me alone,” she ordered, unable to hide the hurt and upset.

A wave of disbelief washed over me, stirring an intense annoyance that was difficult to suppress. How could I possibly bring any sense of calm to this chaotic situation? She behaved like a spoiled child, and I was bewildered by her actions, left without understanding the underlying cause.

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” I declared, gripping her shoulders firmly and compelling her to face me. “Talk to me!”

“Why?” she retorted, her sarcasm on full display. “Because you’re in charge?”

Her mocking only added to my annoyance. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions. One moment, she’d expressed her love for me, and the next, I discovered her life might be in danger. Now, inexplicably, she couldn’t stand being near me.

“I am in charge here, Laya,” I stated, steady and firm, carrying a sense of determination. “I refuse to apologize for that. I am a man. This is my territory, my realm, my household. I will always take the lead.”

“And what does that make me?” she shot back bitterly. “Just decoration for your bed?”

Her accusation struck me like a physical punch to the gut. Had I truly diminished my admiration for her to something superficial?

“Is that really how you think I see you?” I demanded, anger growing inside me. “I have always tried to respect you, yet now you say I only see you as a pretty accessory.”

“Don’t you?” she countered, her eyes blazing with defiant fury.

“No!” I insisted, struggling to regain control of the conversation.

I stared at her, baffled by her blunt defiance.

“And why should I believe you?” she questioned, shaking with emotion.

I paused, my mind scrambling for the right thing to say.

“Why wouldn’t you believe me?” I asked, desperately hoping for some understanding.

“Trust is earned, Niko.” She spoke with heavy finality and wounded pride.

I gazed into her green eyes, almost desperately trying to decipher the unspoken questions swirling there.

What was she saying? She’d told me she trusted me. Was that a lie?

Did she think I would hurt her? I could never, not in a million lifetimes, betray her or even lay a finger on her. Wasn’t it obvious that every part of me existed solely to protect her from life’s hardships? And yet, here she was, challenging the fierce devotion that burned within me.

“I don’t know what you think,” she said, shaking her head and breaking the charged silence.

Then, she stepped aside and moved toward the bedroom. Somehow, the air felt colder.

I thought, “Fair enough,” as her graceful figure entered the room. I had always struggled to express my feelings. Words were tangled like threads in a dream, especially now, with each day since she arrived feeling like a jumble of overwhelming emotions.

I had hesitated to share the raw truth with her, not because of anything she had done, but due to the demons of my past.

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