Page 131 of Embriagado

You love violence. You live for it, while I am violence.

He had a point. I was drawn to violence and had been since I first learned how to throw a punch. There was something addictive about the feeling of my fist colliding with flesh. The sound, the impact, the force. It was a rush like no other that nothing ever compared to, or so I thought, until I met him.

Speak of the devil, my current obsession had just appeared in front of me. Standing next to a flower truck, with a clipboard in hand, Ariyan instructed a few guys from the maintenance team on where to place the flowers they carried. Passing on the suit jacket, he was down to a white dress shirt, while on top, he wore a green apron that was just too fucking hot. I wondered if he liked cosplaying in his free time, because right now, he looked like the sexiest florist to ever live.

After sending the employees on their way, he climbed back into the back of the truck, and that was when I decided to follow him in. It was one of those refrigerated mini trucks, so inside, the temperature immediately dropped.

“You really do like the color white, don’t you?” I said, rubbing my palms together while looking at all the white roses around us.

Ariyan turned around, his brows creasing and his jaw setting tight upon seeing me.

Well… I didn’t expect he’d welcome me with a kiss, but he looked straight-up pissed.

“Look at that. All I need is to breathe, and it annoys you,” I tried joking, but seeing the irritation growing on his face, I quickly shut up.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nothing, really.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I just thought that you might need some help?”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?” I smiled. “I am the assistant manager, after all.”

“Only by title.”

His eyes dropped back to the clipboard in his hands.

Disappointment settled deep in my gut. Again, it wasn’t that I assumed he’d be happy to see me, but his reaction was even colder than this cooler truck.

“What are all these flowers for?” I tried again.

“You’re still here?” he snarled, eyes not looking away from that damn clipboard.

Ouch.

“Sorry for being such a bother.”

With a sigh, he looked up, his mouth set in a hard line. It was then that I noticed something that made my heart stop and my blood boil.

“What happened to you?” I stepped closer, my full attention on the bruise he had on his bottom lip.

“What’s your problem?” he hissed and tried to step back when I caged him against one of the shelves of the truck.

The clipboard fell from his hand, making a thud when it met the floor.

“How did you get this bruise?”

“I have no clue what you’re⁠—”

“Your lip.” I grabbed his arms and held him tight. “Who did this to you? Who did you kiss?”

The question was out of my mouth before I could think it through, but this bruise… It was a bite mark. Someone had given him that, marked him. It sure as fuck wasn’t me, so who the hell did it? Who the fuck was he seeing? The mere thought drove me nuts, and I was eaten up with jealousy when pure fury crossed his face.

“Get your hands off of me, you rabid dog.”

My breath hitched, and I froze, eyes locked with his.

“Ariyan—”