Chapter 14

Abigail sucked in a breath for her deprived lungs and swallowed. When she didn't move, he approached her himself and set the headphones over her ears. He got behind her, held her shoulders, and pressed his front against her back. He attempted to push her up towards the divider but she anchored her feet.

"I can be rough if you want me to."

He was successful in putting her in front of the gun and placing it in her hands by clamping his large hand over hers.

She resisted but she was now trapped in front of him as he wrapped his strong arms around her. He quickly force her finger into the trigger and pulled her arms straight in front. Lowering his head to her level, he breathed in her hair just to make her flinch.

"Keep your eyes on the target and your elbows locked. If you play your cards right, you may have your shot at me."

Abigail could never take his words seriously. There was no way he wouldn't know how afraid she was of guns and what he did. He must enjoy toying with her fears. She refused to look in front and instead turned her face as far back as she could.

"Eyes up, Abigail. You'll never win against your enemies like this."

The loudest bang she had ever heard exploded. A tiny part of her was thankful for the headphones protecting her eardrums. The vibrations rippled through her arms and she let out a cry. She wanted to let go of the gun, and she tried, pulling her elbows down and bowing her back against his chest, but he held her hand tight and kept her enclosed in his imprisonment.

Finally, one of her sweaty hands was able to slip off and she had leverage to push him away. As she turned to escape his barricade, she tripped on her own feet, twisting her ankle in a sharp pain, and landed on her palms. The headphones skidded away to one end of the room.

Once she realized she was on the cold hard floor, Abigail reached over to touch her ankle. She pressed her lips together and winced.

Lucas immediately came around and swept her off the ground as if she was a doll. He gently placed her on the counter next to the tray. She wailed her arms, smacking him now with fruitless punches.

"Sit," he said sternly before she could open her mouth to resist.

She froze and glowered.

He knelt down and took off the shoe from the injured ankle. He gently pressed his fingers on it a few times before concluding that it wasn't sprained, just a little twisted and she should be fine after a few hours with ice.

After the experience she just went through, his caring personality came off as unusual of him. Abigail had never seen this tender side for a long time. It was many years ago when she caught a slight glimpse of this other him, but she never imagined she would see it again. What could cause this new person to emerge after so many years?

She didn't realize she was staring at him until he stood up and caught her in the act. He instantly used this as an invitation and stepped forward, pressing himself against her. His hands had opened her legs before she could know it and her short skirt rode up a little too high.

She gasped as the tip of his nose approached her's. At this level, their heads are the same height. She leaned away but quickly learned that there was no back support and grabbed onto his arm for leverage. Too embarrassed in the moment and to avoid his intimacy, she turned her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

She felt, as one of his hands wrapped around her waist, slowly moving to the small of her back, scooting her closer to him. He placed his other hand on her knee that playfully climbed up her bare thigh before slipping out and squeezing.

By now, her breathing was shaky and her heart pounding. She swore he could hear it too.

"Do you honestly think I would hurt you?" He said in the softest whisper. He traveled to the side of her face and brushed his cheek against hers. His breath blew on her ear. "I never wanted you to be afraid of me, Abigail. I never wanted this but the moment had me all caught up."

She didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything. Her throat was so dry she kept swallowing and wetting her lips.

"Look at me," he added as he placed a hand on her cheek and turned her to face him.

The heat between them did not make the situation better for Abigail. And now that she was forced to look into his sky-blue irises, her cheeks were rising in color.

He brought his lips merely an inch from hers, slowly teasing the tingling feelings of his breath bouncing off her lips. The sensation was mischievous, as if he knew a tiny part of her wanted to kiss him too. She was too afraid to look down at his mouth for fear that that might stimulate any implications for him to kiss her.

She pushed all her feelings away. She didn't want him to kiss her. It was only the build-up of the situation that he created, not her.

"Little Abby, please stop running away from me," Lucas begged.

She stood stunned when she heard this. Stop running? She was running away because he's terrifying. His personality would scare anyone, frighten anyone, and she wasn't an exception. They grew up together and he was always the oppressor. He was older than John and much older than her. The age difference made it difficult for her to approach him.

Strangely yet, although he wasn't necessarily the nicest person, he had never bullied her the way he bullied John. He was only distant and cold but he had never bullied her. Ever.

But the man. The man he killed.

She could never get it out of her head. His bloody face and brain bits all over her flowers still haunted her. Lucas was barbaric. He was evil. He was a killer. He was a cold-hearted monster.

He continued to playfully rub their noses together.

"I've loved you for so long, you have no idea."

This time, she was beyond shocked and felt butterflies in her stomach, but not the good kind.

What!?

It was as if he couldn't believe her reaction and pulled away to see the change in her expression. His hand was still on her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek.

"You have no idea of the effect you have on me, do you? The yearning to see you, the desire to touch you. The things I've done for you--"

"What are you doing?" She finally asked the crucial question. His eyes squinted the slightest at her question. "Why are you doing this?"

He saw the emptiness in her eyes and, unable to face her, he looked down at her lips.

"I want you," he said out of breath. "Your mind, body, and soul. I want you, more than anything."

Lucas had no clue how terrifying the idea of his desire for her was. She wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted to escape from him.

He leaned in to kiss her.

"I don't want it," she quickly pulled away. "Stop this. I don't want it. I don't want you!"

"Do you have any idea how many women throw themselves at me?" He snapped. "I'm Lucas Barrington. Everyone is looking to see who the new Lady of Penrose Manor is. Can you honestly turn down the Lucas Barrington?"

After he said this, he realized he may have been a little harsh. She looked more frightened and so he retracted to a softer tone.

"Is it because of the murder?"

Abigail gasped and shook her head fearfully. "I swear, I didn't tell anyone. I swear--"

"I don't care about that, Abby. I'm confessing to you and I want to make things right. I want you to marry me."

That's it. She's had enough of his delusions. She was dismissive of all his absurd comments but he had crossed a line and he could never see it himself. Murder? Confession? Marriage? He only wanted to make sure she'll never escape his grasp. She never expected him to be this cruel.

"You cannot expect me to say yes after what you did. Don't bring up the past so casually. You don't know how many nightmares I had all these years. And-- and what you did to me--"

She was finally resilient. She pushed back like never before, gripping his shirt with courage and pushing him off of her. She realized she could use her feet as support. She forced herself forward as hard as she could, even shoving herself into his solid chest if she could.

Without warning, he took one step back and she lurched forward with the force. He captured her in his arms safely and she landed with support, not daring to take a risk on her ankle. The next thing Abigail felt was the gun being jammed into her palm and he made sure to lock it tight. He pulled her arm straight at him.

She was now aiming the gun at his heart. When she realized this, she sized him up abruptly.

He's serious.

She tried to pull away, but he held her hand firmly. He's got to stop.

"This is your chance to get back at me, then," Lucas was adamant. "For the three-year trauma, for my cold personality, for everything. But don't even think for a second that I don't hate myself for what I did. If my life can take away all your pain, then shoot me. Go ahead. Do it!"

She grabbed her wrist and pulled as hard as she could.

"Stop! This is not something to aim carelessly at. You're going hurt yourself. You know I could never shoot you. I'm not--"

"A murder like me?" he finished.

Tears swelled up in her eyes and streamed down her face. The intensity of the situation was shaking her up. The idea that Lucas Barrington's life was in her hands and with just one simple trigger, he would really be dead, was too much for her to handle.

She begged him to stop again. She was crying now and didn't want to do it in front of him. It's embarrassing and pitiful and she hated herself for it.

"Isn't this what you want? Revenge?"

She shook her head. "This isn't what I want. I don't want to marry you and I don't want to kill you. I just want to go home."

The emptiness in Lucas's heart expanded. He knew he had done some damage between them, but he never expected it to be this severe.

She took his distraction and the tiny slack in his grip to her advantage. She unleashed her hand and bolted out of the room. Her nails dug into her palm to get rid of the gun impression. The pain in her ankle was still there but it was trivial now.

The direction back to the front desk was easily accessible and she made it there in only a few seconds. The lobby space was filled with more people than before and unfortunately, they were all men. She was actually quite a sight to behold.

Her eyes were red with tears. She was hiccuping in breathy inhales and sniffing. Her eyes scanned the room as if she was recalculating her options.

The men around the room wanted to approach the peculiar young girl and ask her what happened. She looked almost as if she didn't belong here so that meant whoever brought her must've caused her distress.

Just then, they saw a dark shadow appearing behind her. He was extremely tall compared to the girl, wearing a black suit with a dark mood that exuded power and dominance.

When the girl sensed that he was behind her, she turned around.

"I want to go home," she simply stated.