HIS SWEET REVENGE

Celine’s POV

I thought I was dreaming when I heard Bryan’s voice and it made me flicker my eyes open in shock. I was shocked by the fact that he has my number and he is also calling me.

I sit upright with a pounding heart, realizing that my sleep has vanished into thin air.

Jason spends more time with Lizzy these days, giving me more time to rest and sleep all I want.

I hadn’t had a good sleep since I woke up this morning to help Bryan get his dress ready when I realized I was late. I found out he was already gone so I went back to my room, hoping he won’t fight me for that. I haven’t slept since morning and I was sleeping before he called me.

With haste, I climb down from the bed, wear my shoes and walk out of the room.

Bryan barely comes into my room these days to check up on Jason, I guess it’s because he is very busy and he sees Jason outside with Lizzy most of the time, thereby giving me enough freedom and assurance that I can’t be caught sleeping on Jason’s bed.

I wonder why he is calling me to come up.

Have I done something wrong again?

Does he need something and feels I am the right person to do it for him instead of Camilla? Is it because of what I wrote or because of the dress I didn’t get ready for him?

I can’t give these questionable thoughts in my head any answers so I increase my pace and find myself on the last staircase, darting my eyes around to see if Camilla has come out of her room since morning.

There is no sight of anyone so I let out a sigh and continue my walk to Bryan’s room. I get to the door and push it open.

His living room is also empty and I walk further to go into his bedroom. When I am close by, I knock faintly and his voice echoes in the room, granting me the permission to enter.

My heartbeat increased. I have no idea if this agitation is out of fear or out of guilt for what I have done. I have meddled in his private affairs and he must be mad at me. Maybe he doesn’t appreciate my effort again.

I shouldn’t have done it, now I feel stupid. Bryan is not the one to appreciate the effort of someone like me.

Bryan can not be healed in just a day, it is going to be a gradual process but I doubt if I can be patient enough to watch and help him heal from the past gradually while I am at the receiving end.

He will transfer all his anger, aggressions, and frustrations on me and I can’t take more than I can. I am human and I am bound to get hurt.

His harsh words do somethings to me that I can’t place, it reduces my self-esteem and makes me look like a fool.

Even though I have made several resolutions never to be hurt by his statements and insults because I now understand his pains and silence, sometimes I can’t help it. I can’t help getting hurt.

I can’t help expecting a change from him. I can’t help but adore him, wishing he can do the same for me and forgive me for my mistakes. I can’t help but wish for the impossible. But Bryan himself is impossible.

The first sight that catches my eyes the moment I enter the room is that of a shirtless Bryan. He is in nothing but his office trousers and I wonder where his shirt has gone.

His muscular body stretches back and forth as he bends as if to straighten his back, ignoring my presence. I closed the door loudly so he can know I am already in the room, but why is he ignoring me?

Why am I here?

Is he exercising? Isn’t there a gym in the house? Why is he exercising in his office wear? Why did he call me here by this time of the day?

I clear my voice to signify my presence and he snaps his head back as though he is just noticing my presence. I am expecting to see that sad gloomy look still present on his face but I see nothing but amusement.

What is amusing him? I look down at my dress wondering if I am the amusing piece here? I just woke up and practically ran here after he demanded for me without being conscious of my look and dress.

Well, I have never been conscious of how I look in the presence of Bryan because no matter how beautiful I see myself, Bryan never sees it.

But now I wish I had looked into the mirror to check my sleepy face since my dress is ok.

“Good day… sir”, I bow my head as I greet him politely.

Without answering me, he walks back to the bed and sits on it. My gaze shifts to the bandaged fist but it doesn’t even look like he is hurting. He is sweating from the little exercise he has just done.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Were you here while I was away?” He asks sharply, jerking me out of my reverie.

What? I almost voice out my thoughts.

He didn’t know I was the one who wrote the letter to him? What should I say? Should I lie? I know how much he hates people that lie.

“Celine”, he calls. I blink.

“Yes, I did.” I reply with all honesty.

“Why?”

“I’m sorry”, I apologize as he pierces at me intensely. It is obvious my effort isn’t appreciated again.

“Why?” He repeats.

“I just came to check up on you”, I say again with honesty. “I slept off so I forgot to come before you woke up. I’m sorry once again.”

He nods intermittently and looks out of the window. I watch him, wishing I can see through him and know what he is thinking about.

Why isn’t he asking me about the letter and the bandaged fist and everything? I forgot the bowl here, the mug, and my nightcap, why isn’t he saying anything about it?

Did it work? Did my mission for him to heal quickly and let go of everything work already?

His face is creased in a brow and I keep watching him get a flash of anger or hurt crossing his face but I see nothing. His face is devoid of emotions and I want to know what he is thinking.

When he snaps his head towards me again, a shudder runs down my spine.

“I have told you times without numbers not to come in here without my permission, haven’t I?” His voice sounds deadly and his eyes are piercing.

“I… I was just worried, I’m sorry, sir.”

He nods without any more questions. “I called you to help me with something”, he lays on the bed on his stomach, increasing my curiosity.

Why is he acting weird? His behavior is in between; acting nice and harsh at the same time and it doesn’t fit his personality at all.

He lays on his stomach without a word and I furrow my brows in confusion.

What help does he want?

“I have an ache and I need a massage”, he announces to my astonishment.

“Wha… at?!” I exclaim loudly in disbelief.

A massage? Is that why he called me? Is Bryan for real?

“I said I want a massage”, he barks at me, making me jerk up and rush to his side.

My hands are trembling as I remember what happened the last time I touched him and the torture I went through. Why is Bryan doing this to me?

As soon as he lifts his head, probably to scold me, I place my hand on his back and squeeze my eyes shut. He relaxes and silence falls.

Summoning enough confidence, I lean on the bed and begin to let my hand trail his back slowly to massage him, even though my body is on fire.

My legs are wobbling weakly underneath me and the frame of the bed I am leaning on is stopping me from falling to the floor.

My insides are in a mess, my hands are sweaty and my breathing becomes heavy all of a sudden.

I am trying so hard not to let my gaze on his back linger too much for me to even think of the impossible but I can’t help it. My hands slide down his hot masculine body slowly and I almost gasp when I touch his revealing waist.

Excitement pumps into me for no reason and I close my eyes again. I take my hands off his body in a hurry, slapping myself mentally for behaving stupid and thinking of rubbish.

Bryan is silent, even though my hands aren’t on his body anymore. I quickly touch his back again, massaging his shoulder slowly and warning myself to take my eyes off his buttocks. I continue massaging him, now more quickly so I can just get the hell out of here before I humiliate myself in front of him.

The silence lingers for a while till I feel I have done enough and I have had enough of his bodily show too. I clear my throat nervously and peer down at his closed eyes.

“Erhhmm, I’m done. Are you relieved?”

There is no answer. His eyes are not open either. I squint to know if he is not answering on purpose or if something has happened.

“Boss?” I call. I don’t want to tap him because he might find it offensive. After calling his name for the second time with no reply, I bend down to his height on the bed and watch his face with a scared thought in my mind.

His chest heaves up and down as he lay his head on the pillow, breathing softly. I breathe out a sigh of relief and I am immediately assured that it is not what I am thinking and he is fine.

I realize Bryan has fallen asleep. Without wasting more time and with the single thought of how to escape this room that has suddenly become stuffy for me, I run out to go to my room directly to calm my nerves down.

As soon as I am out of the room, I heave a deep sigh of relief.

I just hope Bryan won’t be the death of me.