This Cruel Love

“Where are we then?” He looked at me with a puzzled, pissed off expression. He’d obviously saved the sass for the wrong person.

“Death dungeons in hell, obviously. You deal with the devil and his demons on a daily basis, Justin. Now I’ve gotta go to hell to get you back out.”

We trudged our way up that staircase, with each step getting heavier and harder to make than the last. I thought how ironic it was that we were heading upwards, as opposed to descending to the bowels of hell. This devil, or demon, whatever he was, obviously liked to think he was above the rest of us.

When we came to the top of the stairs we were ushered along the corridor to a solid wooden door at the end of the building. Everywhere was dark and mysterious. Eerie almost, as if smoke could mist over the floor at any moment and it wouldn’t look out of place. It felt other-worldly. I didn’t let the aura of the place mess with my mind, though. I held my head high and took a deep breath, as the suit with us knocked on the door and stood back.

“What?” The gruff, deep voice behind the door sounded pissed and irritable. Too bad his day was about to get a hell of a lot worse when I stomped through his door and put him in his rightful place.

The suit opened the door and announced drily, “It’s your favourite junkie come to visit, and he’s brought you a little something to look at, while he worms his way out of another payment this month.”

He smirked down at me, but I huffed my annoyance and pushed past him, entering the warm, dark office space.

There was an open fire, gently billowing out smoke into the darkened room. The subtle smell of leather, whiskey and expensive men’s cologne hit me, lulling me into a false sense of security. It looked and felt like an old-school gentleman’s club. Somewhere my father and grandfather might’ve frequented back in the day. A place where deals were done and honest lifelong friendships were cemented. However, the man sat behind the desk in front of us now was anything but an honest gentleman.

We both walked across the room, our hands entwined to give us courage and support, and stood on the opposite side of the desk from the man who held Justin’s future, our future, in his evil grasp. His grey eyes were cold, lifeless and disinterested, as he dragged his gaze from whatever was on his laptop to Justin. Then his eyes met mine, and his icy glare sent prickles down my spine. I saw a flicker of something behind his stare, but what it was I couldn’t tell; recognition maybe? But it was gone as quickly as it came. He was stunning to look at, there was no denying that. He had that ‘just walked off an Armani photoshoot’ look about him, but his aloof, detached air of superiority made him appear empty. A hollow man, devoid of feelings of compassion or warmth. The way he pierced me with his cold stare made me feel like he was primed and ready to attack, and I was his prey.

He picked up a glass tumbler filled with amber liquid and threw it back. His muscular throat rippling as he swallowed, making me feel uneasy. Then he grunted out in a bored gravelly voice, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He was addressing Justin, I knew that, but his eyes never left mine. His gaze put me on edge and made me feel exposed and vulnerable before we’d even started. I needed to keep my wits about me, because this man sat in front of us was no pushover.

“We’ve come to make arrangements to settle our debt.”

I tried to sound as confident as I could, even though every nerve in my body was on red alert, and I was quivering like a jelly.

“Oh, it’s your debt now, is it?”

His face remained stoic and harsh, but his eyes softened, sparkling slightly, almost as if he were mocking me. I didn’t like it.

“Seeing as how we’ll be married soon, then yes, it is.”

I straightened my back, hoping that by standing taller I’d feel more in control. I squeezed Justin’s hand, willing him to step in for me. I felt under attack already, and we hadn’t even started negotiations. So much for being the one to manipulate this meeting. Why wasn’t Justin speaking up for me?

As if he could read my inner thoughts, the devil in the designer suit spoke out with contempt.

“Letting your woman speak for you now, rat?”

“Don’t call him that!” I snapped back, before Justin could even open his mouth. I felt so irritated by the way these men were judging us, as if we were dirt they needed to scrape from their shoes. The lowest of the low. That wasn’t us. It wasn’t the Justin I was in love with. This guy just smirked and sat back in his chair, looking irritatingly self-satisfied and smug.

“Why? What else should I call him? He’s a gutter rat, belongs in the gutter.”

His unwavering air of scorn and derision for us instantly got my back up. I took a step towards him, pulling my hand free of Justin’s, and placing them both flat on Mr Asshole’s desk as I leaned forward.

“His name is Justin. It’s not a hard name to re

member. Unless you have problems with remembering simple things like that, Mr…” I suddenly realised I had no idea who this was, and knowing that I didn’t know was obviously an issue for him too.

He leaned forward, clenching his jaw. I could see an angry tick pulsing in his neck, like he was about to burst or explode in anger.

“Caine. My name is Jackson Caine. You need to put your woman on a shorter leash, Justin.” He said the name like he was spitting out venom.

Justin moved to stand next to me and pulled my arm from the desk. He wrapped his hand in mine and looked at me reassuringly, before he turned to Mr Caine to get a hold on this shit show that was our meeting. How had it gone downhill so fast? Well, because Mr Jackson Caine was an asshole with no manners and way too much self-importance, that’s how. He needed bringing down a peg or two.

“I don’t have your money, and I don’t have any way to pay you this month.” Justin spoke in total and utter defeat. Internally, I was rolling my eyes. Willing him to man up and show some initiative. Maybe offer to work for the guy to pay off his debt, or try some kind of negotiation. A man like Jackson Caine would eat someone like Justin alive if he kept acting like such a doormat. I cleared my throat and proceeded to put my case forward.

“I’ll be getting a job soon. We’ll be able to start making some payments then. It won’t be much to start with, but it’s better than nothing-”

He raised his hand up like he was some kind of God to stop me talking. I don’t know why I responded to him and stopped, but I did. I guessed most people did as they were commanded in Jackson Caine’s presence, but it angered me that I was one of them.