Chapter 2 Encounter with the Devil

I was dimly aware of the silence in the hall, the fragrance of incense and the all-pervading sense of tranquillity as I walked toward the dimly lit waiting room. The entire atmosphere had such a calming effect on anyone who came in, I thought. Long windows, a carved ceiling, walls adorned with paintings that retold the story of the Buddha.

When I had first come here, broken-hearted and almost hopeless, this monastery had offered me shelter, unconditionally. There were times when I used to sit here in this room, weeping, praying to a Power I wasn't sure was listening to anymore.

Gradually, the love and concern of the people around me had made me a more confident person. The birth of my children had only added to the purpose of my life.

Smiling softly to myself, I entered the hall.

*

But my words of greeting died away when I saw the powerfully built man standing before the impressive statue of Lord Buddha. Dressed in a dark suit with a long overcoat, his salt and pepper head gleaming, he looked like a medieval incarnation of the Devil as his eyes burning into me, searing like hot coals.

My former lover, the one who had shattered my heart.

The father of my children.

Gaston.

It took every ounce of willpower I had, not to run to him and throw my arms around him, fervently kiss that well-shaped mouth that I was so familiar with.

He stood, the light behind him, throwing his face in shadow. But from the stillness, I knew he was alert, watching me like a hawk.

"Gaston?" I breathed trembling as joy and surprise warred within me.

He didn't respond; continued to stand there, his hands buried in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels, watching me. Then the silence broke.

"Leave us!" His familiar raspy voice barked at two men who had been standing silently at the doorway; I had not noticed them before.

My heart sank.

His ever-present bodyguards.

Being one of the men who controlled a well-networked arms trading gang and many other such illegal businesses which I had discovered slowly but steadfastly ignored, he was always accompanied by the trusted men who shadowed him, alert and watchful. Once in my innocence, I had asked him why they were always around. His hard face had grown cold, withdrawn; the silence that followed had me quickly make some inane remark to change the subject.

But the memory of that incident lingered on.

Gaston was danger.

Now like well-trained dogs, his bodyguards glided away discreetly. But I knew from experience that they were never very far away.

Suddenly we were alone in the large hall. The man who had controlled my body and soul for a year.

I had adored him, blind to any fault in him. Loved him with the complete abandon of an eighteen-year-old.

And he was clever. Almost twenty years older than me, he must have found it was child's play to play with the heart of an adoring teenager who was devoted to him. Maybe it had amused him for a while too?

But the passion between us had been real.

Sizzling.

He had only had to look my way and I would feel the familiar ache in my belly, the longing, the wanting...A chill went down my spine. As for him, he couldn't seem to keep his hands off me; he hated to take me outside and I felt the anger in his powerfully built body if he thought anyone was paying undue attention to me. It had scared me but dazzled by his power and the love I had for him, I never thought too deeply about it.

Until it was too late.

"Come here!" He growled at me now, commanding me. I shivered at the menace in his voice and stood where I was, leaning against the closed door for support.

Not one to take insubordination, I saw his big body tense.

He barked, the threat in his voice obvious now," I said, come here!"

I raised my chin and continued to stand where I was. It wasn't defiance. It was simply that my legs would not carry me if I tried to move.

I was incapable of speaking. His anger radiated towards me in waves and I made a supreme effort not to turn and run. I willed myself to remain where I was.

In three strides he was in front of me. He stopped, breathing heavily, not touching me but close enough to make me aware of the strong odour of whiskey on his breath.

My heart sank, Gaston was even more dangerous when he had been drinking heavily and up close I saw his bloodshot eyes and unshaven, cold face. Tipping my head up, I stared at him, trying to appear calm, digging my fingers into my palms.

His eyes seemed to strip me as he asked crudely, in a low snarl,

"Whose are they?"

I had imagined this moment in many ways when I was in the mountains but never in such a harsh, cruel encounter.

Raising my head proudly, I looked him in the eye and said,

"They are MINE."

In a flash he grabbed my upper arms, squeezing them painfully as he jerked me to his hard body. He rasped

"I want to know who their father is, woman!"

"Who do you think? I was never unfaithful to you!" I answered tremulously, my eyes filling up with tears at the underlying accusation.

He made a sound that was a mockery of a laugh.

"You expect me to believe you, you little slut?"

I closed my eyes momentarily, to hide the pain his words had inflicted.

'Gaston, you're hurting me, "I whispered as the pressure on my arms increased.

"I'll show you hurt." He said brusquely, squeezing even harder, moving so that his lower body was pressing into mine. The door behind me pressed into my back but I was only aware of his muscled body, the hardness of his thighs; and then, I felt his arousal and I looked up at him, startled, my brown eyes widening.

He jeered his voice thick with desire, "Yes, you fu*****b**ch, even after all this, I want you, so help me!'