At His Mercy Book ii !
The drive from the airstrip to Ioannis’s villa was mostly quiet. Ioannis had only asked if she was tired, hungry, or sleepy before they settled into silence. The kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, yet charged.
Ioannis had taken her suitcase himself and kept it in the trunk. He'd looked like he had wanted to hug her but thought against it, he probably wanted to give her some space, or some time to get used to being around him again. Or perhaps it was the other way around, perhaps he was getting used to being around her again.
Loki hadn't needed that much time though, he'd ran circles around his legs excitedly, and Yalda was a bit relieved to see him that happy; he hadn't been the same since Alexander passed and she knew it.
“Did you have a smooth flight?” he asked once they were in the car.
Yalda nodded.
“Yes.” Her voice came out smaller than she had intended. “It was… quiet.”
He glanced at her, his eyes flicking briefly over her face before returning to the road, she still had her sunshades on. “Are you exhausted?”
She blew out a breath as she nodded. “A little.”
"You’ll rest when we get home,” he said.
Home....
The word stung in her chest. He'd so easily welcomed her into his home and she had almost become a part of it, but she had left him without thinking twice. And here they were again, heading back to his home like nothing had changed.
And when the villa came into view, something in her stomach tightened. It was exactly the same. It had been about five months but it was still the same. She couldn't help but remember her time here; the healing, the warmth, the....love.
Ioannis opened the door and stepped aside, motioning for her to enter first when they got to the entrance. She made her way in but slowed her steps because she wanted ioannis to lead the way, she may have lived here for sometime but it didn't change the fact that she'd been away for a while now.
The villa was just as she remembered; strong and tall on the outside but cozy on the inside.
Ioannis’s footsteps echoed behind her as he caught up, he took her hand and began leading her upstairs. “You look like you need a lot of rest,” he said.
She shook her head.
“I’m fine,” she murmured.
“You’re not.” he said, and the fact that he was right had her throat tightening. She said nothing else.
He led her up the stairs and down the familiar hallway. And when he opened the door to his room, the scent hit her immediately; crisp sheets, polished wood, and his distinct cologne that always kept her longer in bed.
“It’s late. You should have dinner and get some sleep.” he said as he guided her to the bed.
It was a little past 11pm. The flight had taken 10 hours, it would be 4pm back in New York but Yalda was still very much exhausted but barely hungry at all.
"I'm not hungry." She told him as she took a seat on the edge of the bed, he sat beside her.
"Yalda, you need to eat."
But she only shook her head, she truly couldn't even think of eating at the moment, the thought made her nauseous.
"I'll rather go to sleep." She said. "Please?"
She was glad he didn't push her, she was glad he didn't insist on feeding her right now.
He reached out and gently and slid her sunglasses off her face. Her eyes stung from the florescent light and she had to blink a couple of times to get them accustomed to the light. And then her first instinct was to turn away, to hide the red puffiness, the dark circles, and the heavy eyebags on her face from him.
But his fingers caught her chin before she could.
“Don’t,” he said quietly.
Her lips parted, but no words came, she wasn't even sure what she had wanted to say. His gaze held hers and he stared down at her face, took in everything she considered a flaw without judgement.
And for a moment, neither of them spoke or moved. Then Ioannis let out a breath before his hand dropped from her face, and he reached for her coat instead, slipping it gently off her shoulders.
“You’re trembling.” He said, his warm breath fanned her shoulder.
She was. After all, she had been overwhelmed for three months now and trying her possible best to lose her mind.
“I’m just tired,” she replied her throat was so tight, too tight at the moment.
“I know.”
He moved closer, and when his arms came around her at last, Yalda’s restraint broke. It was steady, grounding hug, the kind of hug that said he wouldn’t let her fall apart any more than she already had.
“You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her temple. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Her fingers clutched at his shirt tightly, her forehead pressed against his chest. The tears broke and it saturated his shirt, it became heavier until her shoulders shook against him. Ioannis said nothing, he only tightened his hold on her.
He rubbed her back comfortingly to soothe her, and she was grateful for it though she felt like she was drowning at the moment. When her sobs quieted into uneven breaths, he drew back slightly.
“It's alright.” he said. "Time to get some rest."
He guided lie back onto the pillows, and when she sank into the softness behind her, she let out a long, trembling breath.
Ioannis crouched down and removed her shoes, setting them neatly aside. Then, without asking, he brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over her face.
It felt so familiar, so painful.
“Sleep,” he said.
He drew the blanket up over her shoulders, smoothing it with one hand before stepping back slightly.
“You'll have breakfast early tomorrow,” he said. “I need to know you're not starving yourself."
Her eyes blurred again. “You shouldn’t be this kind to me.”
Not after she'd left him like he didn't matter, not when she was only here because Alexander was gone.
"How can I not be kind to you, Yalda?" He asked her.
That made her breath falter. Everything about Ioannis was something she didn't deserve, something that should be given to someone deserving of it, not to someone who had left him without looking back.
He seemed to see the look in her eyes because he shook her head, stopping her thoughts.
"Close your eyes, try to sleep." He said.
And she did. Her eyes fluttered closed, they were too heavy to keep open. The last thing she felt was his hand brushing gently through her hair soothingly.
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