WHILE I BURN FOR YOU

CHAPTER ONE: MEETING MR DASHIELL

My eyes flickered open like the blurry Christmas lights at the far end of a NewYork street. I tried to move but my head felt like it had been nailed to the hard, black tiles, and I could only manage to lift a finger or two.

My mouth quivered as I felt liquid surrounding my cold body, I began to wonder whether I had taken a piss on the floor while unconcious.

Using the strength I had left, I raised my fingers up to meet my eyes. My vision was blurry but I could still decipher that the liquid on the floor wasn't piss but in fact blood.

I was surrounded by my own blood.

I shut my eyes as I recalled how this came to be. It wasn't the first time he had beaten me, but this was the first time that his fists led me to draw blood.

I have endured it for eight years and running. All the beatings, the scars, and the pains. With no one to run to but the good memories of my distant past. Spent running around with a boy that lived close to me.

People talk about how envious they are about my wealth and status in society, but how taken aback would they be when they find out how I truly feel.

I honestly detest my wealth and status, because it hadn't allowed me to finally be free.

Ever since I had been born into a wealthy Eres household, my life and dreams were put on standstill.

The fifth child and only daughter of Danyal Eres, born into wealth and married off to wealth and pain.

I had been groomed to marry Malek since I was 6. My mother often said that our marriage would be the talk of the season and that it would bring our family wealth among many others.

But, what good is wealth when you are not allowed to be happy?

I remember when I told my father that I wanted to join his company, His mocking snicker drove a hard slap to my face and I was driven back to my cocoon, my place of solitude, my writings.

I have attempted suicide times without number, being the mother of a four year old son wasn't easy, but how would I care for a child who was taken away from me at birth?

The second he came out of my vagina, my husband called his mother and she took him away and hadn't allowed me to see him.

I was only ever allowed out of the house when my husband hosted a party with his friends, or when he was invited to one.

I let out a loud grunt as I struggled to get up, my hands harshly gripping the edge of my bed frame, while using the other to support my stomach. I grabbed the leather coat on the edge of my bed and left for the pharmacy.

*************

Using the coat's hood to cover my face, I stepped out of the pharmacy, clutching the drugs to my stomach as I limped like an injured antelope.

"Ma'am! It's starting to get windy. You should stay here until the sun starts to shine!" The front desk lady who ran after me, called, allowing me to face her and shake my head to refuse.

In my heart, I felt like everyone knew about my husband's mistreatment towards me, but what could they do other than offer unprofound sympathy?

"I'm fine. My car is just around the corner," I lied, my mind screaming for me to just get inside and sit there until my ass starts to peel. I wanted nothing more than to avoid Malek, but I knew how furious he was going to be if he didn't see me home early.

The wind soon started to pick up, blowing all the empty wrappers on the street out of place, while almost getting sand into my eyes. I started to run to try and find shelter somewhere, while mentally cursing myself for not following that front desk lady back inside.

Just then, I heard a car horn behind me, but I chose to ignore them, just In Case that was my husband's PA or driver.

I watched with my side vision as the silver Rolls Royce drove forth to be ahead of me, the tinted windscreen rolling down to reveal the face of a pudgy guy with a receding hairline, "Get in, my boss wants to speak with you," the man said, but I held my coat tighter around my body and shook my head to say no.

"It wasn't a request. Get in," the fat man commanded, opening the door and getting out to let me in.

The black interior of the car exuded extreme aura, power and wealth. The fresh smell of alcohol and cigarettes filled my nose as the fat man shut the door and walked away. And my shy gaze moved to take in the appearance of the man who sat next to me.

Compared to the fat man, this one was quite...body built. His chiseled jawline was complemented by piercing black eyes that seem to dig pools into those he gazes at.

His dark hair was styled, framing his high cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips. He was clad in a tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and chest, and his whole appearance spelled one hundred percent aura.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked in a shaky voice. His dark eyes scanned me thoroughly, and he moved to examine the silver bracelet on my wrists that had 'OTTO' engraved on it.

"That bracelet..." he drawled, his baritone voice creeping me out. "Who gave it to you?"

"A friend from my teenage years," I replied, covering my hands around the bracelet.

He looked away and leaned back in the seat, "Why were you taking lone strides in the storm?"

I shifted in my seat nervously and answered, "I... wanted to take a trip to the pharmacy. It isn't far to where I live,"

"Where do you live?" He asked, his dark eyes back on me, scanning my whole body and boring into my soul.

"Malek Kashim Estate,"

He eyed me suspiciously, "What are you? His maid?"

I shook my head to say no, almost chuckling out of his lack of information, "I'm Malek's wife,"

I scanned his expression for some kind of reaction, and I didn't know why I felt disappointed that he had none.

"Did he do this to you?" He asked, his voice manly but empty. "You do realize that you reek of blood, don't you?" He asked but I didn't answer.

He tapped on the barricade that separated the driver's seat from where we both sat, "Stop. She will go on her own from here," he said, and like a flick of a finger, the fat man appeared and opened the door for me.

His dark eyes bore into me again and I swear that I could hear the last words that came out of his mouth before the car zoomed off, over again. "I'll see you soon, Zahra,"

CHAPTER 2: MAN OF THE HOUR

I stepped into my bedroom to meet the floor clean, the space smelling like antiseptic, and my husband leaning on the wall, tapping his feet furiously. I could feel the rage burn into his eyes as he came forth and dealt a harsh slap to my face.

My right cheek burned like a spinning wheel in a hot furnace, and it looked like so. I bow my head, my eyes gazing at the floor trying to count the black tiles to keep me from bursting out tears. Malek loved to see me cry, but I vowed to never shed any tears, not for him.

"Where were you?" He seethed.

"I went to the pharmacy to get some medicine,"

He scoffed, "For what? The little punches I dealt you? You felt like you could talk out of place now because I let you to! I would never let any woman that I bought with billions of Kuwaiti dinars, not dollars, dinars, disrespect me in the way you did," He spat lousily.

I said nothing and so he started to walk around me.

"So, what took you so long? The maids said they saw you leaving more than an hour ago. Have you been seeing someone?" He raged, grabbing my arm and flinging me to the other side of the room.

"No, Malek," I gulped, trying to suppress the pain of being thrown around like a rag doll. "It was windy and I didn't take the driver because you told me never to do that unless I am going out with you,"

He let out a cold, disbelieving hum, and stood in front of me before pointing at the bed, "Take the black dress I laid out for you on the bed. You will be attending my new hotel's opening party with me, only because my new business rival wanted to meet with you. You are not in any way permitted to interact with him. Do I make myself clear?" He bellowed.

I nodded in affirmation, "Yes,"

"I give you thirty minutes to get dressed and clean up. I would have Barney come get you,"

*****************

I settled in the back seat of my husband's black Bugatti Divo, with my hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and my fair, ample breasts almost popping out of the tight knee-length dress that Malek selected for me.

This wasn't the first time that he took me with him to an event, but it was the first time he'd made an effort to show me off at one. I began to have mixed feelings about who this 'business rival' was and what kind of power he held to make my husband shake in his boots.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by the sound of the car door opening. It was my husband's bodyguard, Barney, who opened it and sat next to me, staring ahead, before the chauffeur started to speed off.

"Is Malek not coming with us?" I asked, looking away from him, as he and I formerly had a thing of the past, and it wasn't a good one. But, I suspected him to be a good person since he apologized for what he did afterward.

"No. He's riding alone," he replied stiffly, allowing me to nod silently and look away.

Malek's riding alone only meant that he was shagging one of his mistresses in the car, but I didn't care. It's just that, I hoped his recklessness wouldn't lead him to have another child outside, because that would really suck.

The rest of the ride was silent as usual, but the silence broke when we arrived at the party hall.

Barney opened the door for me and I started to see nothing but white flashes and people yelling for me to pose or wave, but Barney grabbed me by my waist, covering my eyes with his large hands while leading me toward the entrance.

I slapped his hands off of me when the paparazzi were no longer in sight, and he bowed to apologize but I only walked away to the side of the room, where there was no one except the waiters holding glasses of champagne.

The party hall was packed with many people that I didn't know, I could only pinpoint a selected few that I recognized, most of them being the wives of my husband's alcoholic friends who, like me, were in abusive marriages. But, unlike me, those women came from poverty and they swore to withstand the bullying as long as their husbands were buying them designers and expensive cars. How pitiful.

Just then, I felt a hand on my skin, jilting me out of my deep reverie. I turned to look at who it was and was met with the handsome man who invited me to his car earlier.

"Good evening," he greeted, eyeing me down to my breasts, and then looking away when he saw that I caught him staring. "I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. I am Dashiell Blackwood. I'm sure you must have heard about me from your husband," he added, looking at me with so much emptiness in his eyes.

"No," I said rudely, almost barfing at his cockiness.

He furrowed his eyebrows and came closer to me, "You didn't have an attitude when we met three hours ago,"

"That was because I thought you wanted to kidnap me," I replied saucily, folding my arms across my chest.

A smirk played on his lips, "Have you ever seen anyone getting kidnapped in a new edition Rolls Royce?" He asked, but I ignored him, and he continued, my legs wobbling as I felt his gaze burn through my side profile, "I only wanted to help you because you looked less privileged," he added.

Anger burned within me as I turned to face him, "What did you just say to me? Or you just said it to get a reaction out of me?" I scowled, and he ignored me, leading me to pull him by his suit.

Just then, I saw Malek walking towards us, smiling like he had just won a trillion dollar lottery. I immediately let go of Dashiell's suit to prevent him from beating me in front of everyone.

"The man of the hour!" Malek gushed, moving to shake his hand, before turning to face me. "He's the one I was telling you about, dear wife. The associate of mine who wanted to meet with you. Dashiell Otto Blackwood!"

CHAPTER 3: TWO HEARTS, ONE DANCE

As my husband and Dashiell continued to talk about business and crazily boring stuff, I felt the urge to run away from the party. The larger it got, the more I felt like I wanted to vomit.

I haven't known Dashiell for more than a day but I could tell that he was a man of few words and works. His aura was enough for him to voice out a five thousand worded essay in two minutes. I kind of admired him, plus, he was hotter than Malek. Malek looked like the effect of a failed chemistry practical. Curly hair, big head, large stomach, and thin legs.

And he called me ugly?

Me?

I am the epitome of beauty and perfection. Every time I walked past my husband's friends, their eyelashes fluttered like they wanted to make them fly out of their shorts. They studied me like I was their business textbook, and when they saw me, it was like the light had been restored to darkness.

I am the air that those men breathe. My beauty rises and kills. They could chew my long hair that cascades down my shoulder to my thin waist for a living and would still crave for more. When my pair of green eyes meet theirs, they salivate and lose the ability to breathe. When my plum, red lips start to move, they stop whatever they are saying and wait for me to finish. When I walk, they wait until I pass for them to shut their eyes and take in the aroma of my fresh rose fragrance.

In my opinion, Malek was just jealous that his sisters looked like him. What could a family of failed practicals know about grace and beauty?

"Mrs Kashem?" I felt a tap on my skin, and I turned to see Dashiell's cold gaze on mine. He was so close that I could perceive the scent of his wood spice musk.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked with that unwavering facade. I looked behind him to make eye contact with my husband, and he looked like he was being forced to agree, but he did. Anything to get in Mr Blackwood's favor, I suppose.

"Sure," I replied, faking a smile, as I placed my small hands in his rough ones.

****************

I closed my eyes as the soft jazz music began to play overhead, enjoying the music before Mr Blackwood's baritone voice ruined it, "You seem to be enjoying the music," he said, allowing me to roll my eyes.

"Your husband wouldn't be pleased to know that you take pleasure in disrespecting people. However, I choose not to tell him because I don't want him to land you in the hospital. Everyone knows that he beats you, it's not a secret," he added, prompting me to look at him, wide-eyed.

I gulped, embarrassed by what he had just said, "I didn't know-"

"It's fine," he answered, cutting me off and then twirling me around.

As if on cue, my eyes landed on my husband who was watching us, keen with interest, but he looked like he was about to set the place on fire. And then he crossed his finger over his neck to symbolize that he was going to kill me.

"He won't do anything," Dashiell assured, bringing my head to look at him. "I will protect you," he added.

"Why?" I asked, almost croaking.

That creepy smirk played on his lips as he replied, "Because I want to ruin him. He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as me and you, don't you agree?" He inquired, his hands around my waist getting tighter by the second. He pushed my body towards him, my breasts, pressing his hard abs, cause he was rather tall.

My breath hitched as I felt the hotness between us grow from zero to a hundred, minus the fact that I could feel everyone's eyes on us.

"What do you know?" I asked, my eyes watery because the tension burned me.

"Enough. I know you have a son. He's four years old. But, Malek doesn't want to make him the inheritor of his empire when he dies, because he has a disability,"

My eyes grew, "He does?" My voice quaked with fear. I didn't even know that my boy... he was disabled.

"He must be so scared without his mother to guide him," I added, a tear rolling down my cheek.

I snapped out of my little tearful moment when Dashiell pressed me closer again, this time, I could feel his hot breath on my skin, "Stop drifting away," he warned, and moved to his normal position.

"I have a proposition for you, Zahra, and I would state it here because I am a man of honesty. Malek's empire is built on the blood and sweat of innocent people, he steals and doesn't return, and he has stolen something from me, and I want it back. And you will help me,"

I scoffed, "Me? I don't know how to do anything,"

He twirled me around again and drew me closer, "I'll teach you,"

I gulped, pushing to be a little greedy, "What's in it for me?"

I felt his taps against my skin, and I moved to look him in the eye, "I will help you get your son back, and also help you reinstate him back into Malek's will. That little boy is the key to your freedom, Zahra. There is no corner of this world that you can hide that Malek wouldn't find you. And we have to be fast, "he implored.

"Why?" I asked again.

"I have intel and ears on every wall in the world, and one of them tells me that one of Malek's mistresses just confirmed that she was pregnant. If it is a girl, we can buy ourselves more time to take what's ours, but if it's a boy, you will get kicked out of the Kashem household, disgracefully, or because he follows Sharia law, will keep you as his first wife, while he transfers all his inheritance to the boy and his mother, and you wouldn't want that now, would you?" He asked, his words burning my ear bit by bit.

How could Malek be so cruel?

How could he destin me to such fate, where there's no hope for survival?

I knew that no matter how many boys I gave birth to for that loser, he would still keep me out of his will, and I was done being thrown wall to wall by him because I didn't want to unintentionally harm my son.

"How can I trust you?" I asked naively, leading him to give me that cold smirk, before spinning me and bending my back to lean over me before flipping my head to the side.

"Look at the lady in the ripped blue gown," he commanded, and I turned to look at her. "She's the mistress, and if you want, I have ten of my men outside with guns, ready to shoot her on the spot, if you would just ask me to,"

However, tempting his offer was, I would never want him to kill an innocent baby for me, "No. Let's play the long game," I replied, returning his smug smile.