Leashed

Chapter 5

“Are you that in love with me?” Her eyes were intent on him, but these were mocking him. And for that, he hated her; he hated how right she was.

Beyond this point, I’m telling you, everything will feel unsettling just like how a certain man who serves as a key character in this story felt while waiting for Neoma at Brasserie, a fancy—if not the fanciest—restaurant in Manila that not only serves exquisite international cuisine, but also provides an astonishing view of the famed sunset in Manila Bay.

It’s more than an hour past six— the time they agreed to have this dinner date. The sun has long set; its vermillion glow has dissolved but not the busy chatter of the other customers around him, not the sound of their cutlery and definitely not his growing agitation.

Ohm combed his livid fingers through his hair and tried to call her again; still, she’s out of coverage. He picked the glass of brandy on the table his Ninong had reserved and drank it in one go. He doesn’t know if she’s doing this on purpose to toy with his thoughts for she knows him too well. She knows how he detests waiting—especially in bed.

Two days after his father’s 57th birthday, he went to visit—court rather—Neoma. He brought for her a bouquet of red roses along with a handful of assertiveness. He didn’t usually visit women for they usually came crawling to him. Women, for him, must be subservient; they are what fill in the pleasures of men, and their main role is to give birth for the propagation of the human species. She is not an exception.

Soaking wet and bathed in seductiveness, she came out of the water. He gulped. She was in a two-piece beige swimsuit when the maid led him to their pool. Her legs are slender, not scrawny. Her hips are wide but not grotesque, and her breasts are big but not saggy—perfect to rear a child. His eyes were feasting on the delectable sight, and he became unaware about how long it took him to stare at her body until she greeted him.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey.”

The temporary silence between them was awkward at first. They both remembered what they have shared last time they met, yet neither of them was ashamed. He stared at her lips, and she stared at his. They were testing each other. They were weighing how they should act as not to cower to the domination of the other. Somehow, they are similar; they hate losing especially to the allure of anyone. The kiss last time was the commencement. Each has long made an analysis of the other. A sadist like me. They both concluded.

She was alone—helpless and defenseless.

“Flowers for you.”

She smiled endearingly. “These are beautiful. Thank you very much.”

“Of course, they are. Just like you.”

They both yearn for superiority. Neoma thinks that men are fools who are easily blinded by beauty and sensual self-indulgence just like this man in front of her. He easily surrendered to her charm, easily hauled to her magnetism. She wants to play with him—to tug him to the depths of her manipulation. She couldn’t count how many men she has discarded. No matter who they are, they just can’t resist her. And she’s certain that even Ohm Consunji who’s infamous when it comes to making several women miserable is just the same.

“I guess you giving me flowers may have some meaning behind it. What brings you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I came as a suitor.”

“Suit—”

It was a thorn, one unremoved, that pricked her index finger. If this was something he did on purpose, I don’t really know.

There was a trickle of blood as she placed the bouquet on the wooden table behind him.

“I’m really sorry about that. The florist must have been careless,” he stated.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a scratch. It’s not like it’s going to kill me.”

“Oh, I insist.” And he took her finger and put it in his mouth.

The act slightly startled her, but she knew what he was up to.

He did suck off the blood from her bleeding finger, but he didn’t halt. He continued to lick it, his saliva now coating her finger and even dripping down her palm.

“Hmm,” he moaned like he was having pleasure in terrorizing a single finger--as if making love to her.

“Stop it already. You’re sucking my finger dry.” She tried to make him stop.

“You taste really good.”

He was enjoying every bit of it—every bit of how he thought he was making her fazed—for he hated this woman right when he first saw her. He sensed that she’s a woman who can control other people. She’s a combination of glamor and brilliance. He knew it since he looked over her background. She is still young, but she is already dangerous. That’s why he hates her. He hates how a mere woman can be superior. She should just be like his late mother—never one to assert herself even until her last breath. And with that, he shall tame her.

He stopped and then looked at her eyes. He was still holding her hand; he didn’t want to let this chance slip away.

“Say, Neoma, why don’t we continue what we started days ago?” His voice was husky, and he was sure he’s near victory.

He raised her chin and inched his lips closer to hers.

“I think we should think things over. After all, we barely know each other,” she protested and looked away.

“Does that even matter? As I see it, we’re eager for each other.”

What happened to them previously was to be repeated if only not for the intervention of a familiar voice.

“If you don’t want me to break your arms, you better let her go now.”

Sol’s face was a blank canvas. He was calm, and his face didn’t show any emotion, and he held a glass of orange juice.

Ohm scoffed. How could a mere servant talk to him with insolence? “And who are you to tell me how I should handle her? Oh, I remember! She told me that you’re her dog, so your name must be ‘Doberman’.”

He was obviously belittling him, yet he only gave him that brand of smile again—the one he showed before—that seemingly innocent yet clandestinely fatal smile.

“Well, yes I am, and I bite really hard,” Sol said and decided to lung at him.

He was unpredictable and quick. He appeared like a rabid dog that was about to gnaw his head off. Before he knew it, his free hand was close to smashing his face.

Neoma immediately mediated. “Sol! Don’t you dare spill my juice.”

His rage instantly disappeared, and he turned to her. “Here it is. I prepared it myself.”

She then decided to end this drama. “Mr. Ohm Consunji, I apologize, but I must bid you goodbye.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ll be seeing you around then.”

“See you around.”

Ohm took her hand and kissed it. “Have a nice day.”

As soon as he left, Neoma washed her hand—the one he salivated earlier—with the orange juice Sol gave her. She was as if rinsing the impurity that Ohm left her.

“Gross,” she muttered.

“Neoma” She heard Sol say as he picked the folded towel on the table and placed it over her shoulders. “Won’t you punish me for interrupting you earlier?”

She was pissed. She had everything under control by acting overpowered by his domination, but Sol just had to intervene.

“Kneel.” To which he complied.

Then, slowly, slowly yet antagonizing, she gripped his chin. “Sol, my dog, you just have the most perfect of timings.”

He didn’t reply and didn’t bother to entertain the sting her nails were doing on his skin; he was too delighted by her touch.

She brought her face closer, and he was sure she’d kiss him. Yet her lips went past his, and she abruptly bit his left ear. He felt electrocuted and for a moment, he couldn’t hear anything else over the sound of how loud his heart beat was. He wanted to touch her, to run his hand over her entire body. But she still didn’t give him permission, so he won’t.

“Let me handle him, Sol,” she whispered to his bleeding ear and gave it a quick lick.

More than four years later, Neoma graduated as a c*m laude with a degree in Business Administration with a major in Marketing Management, and by this time, she was also Ohm’s girlfriend. For the past years, she had to decline his advances; it’s not because she was still studying, but because she wanted to see him painfully pursue her. Every time she denied him, he used other women to vent out his frustration. You may wonder why he’s still after her even if he hates her. It’s all to fulfil his ego. A man like him doesn’t want to feel sorry for himself for having been refused by a single woman. To him, she belongs to a species that is inferior to his. He must catch her to show her whom she’s dealing with. At this point, she caught her by using her dog.

Neoma found Sol bound in chains, beaten and bloody, in the basement of the Consunji residence. There was a gunshot wound on each of his legs. His right arm was dislocated, and his pretty face was beyond recognition.

She didn’t feel anything when she saw him. She didn’t pity him. She wasn’t angry nor was she happy. She just looked at him, and simply said, “Get up, Sol.”

The Consunjis’ men also earned themselves injuries. Neoma Belmonte’s acclaimed dog was surely not one easy to mess with. He has amazing might, and it took 13 of them to subdue him before they could bring him here and torture him. They heard that he enjoyed being hurt, but when they bound him and rained him kicks and punches and even with the supplement of metal rods and wooden paddles, he certainly wasn’t enjoying any of it, yet he also didn’t cry. He was silent in enduring everything. Now, they were watching something interesting. The Belmonte heiress, as they have heard, certainly has unparalleled beauty, but she was cruel, and she will now belong to their young master.

“I said stand! Damn it!” She yelled and her voice reverberated.

Sol found it difficult—no, impossible—to stand. His legs were swollen, and his feet felt like jellies. Yet they saw him, painstakingly and staggering, stand.

“Neoma, I’m…I’m s-sorry a-about this,” he managed to say.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Ohm joined them inside the room.

“This is remarkable! I haven’t seen anyone who’ll still be alive after being this badly beaten. Your dog, Neoma, is certainly a rare breed. Strong and resilient, ain’t he? Where can I buy someone like him?”

She still had her back to him. She was not enraged about what he did to Sol. Knowing her nature, that’s impossible. She was enraged at how he used him to make her agree to be his.

“Like I told you before: you can only take him home if you become my girl,” he told her.

Sol glared at him. He couldn’t recall how many times he replayed stabbing him and shooting him in the head. He couldn’t do it before, only because Neoma never ordered him to. If she ever does, he won’t able to live another minute.

She turned around to face Ohm, and she smiled as bright as the sunshine in that dark room. “Ohm, I’m already your girlfriend, am I not? So, let him go.”

“Come on, babe, he’s better off dying. What’s good in keeping him?”

“He’s my dog, and he’s loyal to me.”

Her eyes were cold and unwavering, a contrast to the smile on her lips, and this was what compelled him to order his men to free Sol and send him to a hospital.

Moments later, she found herself inside Ohm’s bedchamber while he was gingerly undressing her. He said that he needed reassurance for their relationship.

I don’t know if you believe that firmly principled people can have a change of heart, but the misogynist heir to the Consunji business empire is a testament. It's not about his prejudice against women however, but his perspective about his girlfriend. In the four months they’ve been together, she was ever accommodating. Neoma gave him everything he asked of her. If he wanted her in his bed, she gave him her body. If he wanted company, she’d go out on a date with him. If he was stressed over something at work, she’d be there to comfort him. He saw her in a new light, and he thought that maybe—just maybe—she’s the one for him. That’s why he decided that he’ll propose to her.

Something felt wrong nonetheless on the day he planned his proposal. Neoma didn’t show up in the bistro where they decided to meet. He had already dialed her number a couple of times, but she didn’t trouble herself to answer her phone.

He didn’t really like waiting, for waiting makes him feel less important. He was the one who was supposed to be waited for. She was not always that late—rather she was never that late. He had a bad feeling about this, for just as he stood to leave, he received something. It was a video—to be specific, a CCTV footage—of Neoma who was smooching a guy whose face couldn’t be recognized because of the green cap he wore.

He was beyond mad, and he was extremely jealous when he stormed inside the Belmonte mansion to look for his cheating girlfriend. One of the maids directed him to the greenhouse where Neoma was serenely chatting and having coffee with a man who had the same build as the man in the footage.

“Neoma!” he shouted which caught their attention.

He had an explicit look at the man with her, and he knew him very well. His name is Joule Gozon, a model and TV actor, who rose to fame when he got the lead role in a critically-acclaimed action film, and he was also the only celebrity endorser of their banking industry.

“Neoma,” he said again while trying his earnest to control his rage, “What is the meaning of this? And have you forgotten about our date today?”

Her face was calm and she looked as fresh as the plants in the greenhouse. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot what’s today for.”

He glared at her. “Like I’d believe that, you b***h! You made me wait for nothing! And what is this guy doing here?!”

“Oh. I think you already know him. You see, Joule here,” she reached for his hand across the rectangular glass table, “is my ‘other’ boyfriend.”

His eye widened, and his mouth gaped while he watched how the actor around the same age as Neoma blushed at her.

“DON’T give me that crap!” Ohm balled his hands into fists.

But she only gave him an expressionless face. “Oh, babe, this isn’t crap I’m giving you. This is MY reality.”

He clicked something on his phone, and showed it to them. “Is this him? Is this him who you’re with in this footage?!”

She pressed her fingers on her lips as if in a gesture to cover her mouth. “My, oh, my! Where did you get that?”

“Answer the damn question!”

She paused then said, “Hmm. I’m sure that’s him with me; I was the one who sent you that to begin with. Can you guess where we were in that video?”

Ohm was speechless. He couldn’t believe how she was winning against him.

“I’m sorry, Ohm. I just really love her,” Joule said, and his apology was written all over his face.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He was at his limit. “f**k you both!” And he threw his phone at Neoma’s face, but she effortlessly evaded it, but not Joule. His gun was already pointed at his head.

She then muttered someone’s name.

A trigger was pulled and two loud gunshots were heard, yet these were not from Ohm’s gun. The first bullet struck his gun that it flew away from him and down the ground. The second bullet barely grazed his nose bridge. Sol had almost wrecked his face.

“If he tries anything funny again, I permit you to plant a hole on his head,” she commanded.

Sol has recovered by this point, and he could only watch how his mistress was playing her cards. Ohm, just like him, became obsessed with her. She gave him what always wanted from her—her body. But he’s still not satisfied. He had her body, but he could never have her soul.

Joule had to compose his breath; he felt cornered. He only watched how tense the atmosphere was. Neoma was sitting with her legs crossed while her driver-bodyguard was pointing a gun at Ohm whose nose was slightly bleeding.

“Why?” Ohm asked. “Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Why are you cheating on me?”

She wanted to laugh—the nerve of him to ask her that. “Ohm, babe, let’s face it. I was never serious with you.”

It was like a bucket of ice was poured over to his entire body, as he thought of how near perfect she was as a girlfriend. All of that was pretense? He thought.

“But Ohm, don’t worry. I’m not breaking up with you though. You’re still my boyfriend along with Joule.”

He wanted to slap her, to punish her until she begged him to stop. “Don’t f**k with me!”

“I’ve done that a lot of times with you already.”

“You b***h!”

There then was silence before she asked, “Are you that in love with me?” Her eyes were intent on him, but these were mocking him. And for that, he hated her; he hated how right she is.

Ohm went along with her desired setup. She had him and Joule as his lovers. He didn’t want to at first, but he had a goal to make her succumb to him finally. It was that until she chose to abandon him.

“I’m tired of you, Ohm. You bore me to death.” That was what she told him when she discarded him like trash.

He couldn’t forget that juncture. He will never be able to, for it still left a bitter taste. Now, he was impatiently waiting for her again. He realized that she’s formidable and deplorable, but he couldn’t bring himself to detach from his feelings for her.

So this is what obsession is like. He deduced. He now understood how Meryl felt that she would do anything to have him back. Everything felt karmic, and he didn’t feel good about it. It was now him who’d do anything to have his lover back.

He was close to leaving the restaurant and driving to her house, but he restrained himself, for he had an indomitable ally for tonight. He told his Ninong Wile about his planned marriage proposal to his daughter, and he implored his help. Neoma may be indestructible, but her father is even more so. She didn’t have it in her yet to oppose her father. His Ninong may already be a wealthy man, but he is greedy, and his family just happened to have too much to offer him. It was a cinch to make him agree.

Ohm brought two bodyguards with him that evening, and he let them stay outside. They sighed in relief for not having to be around the fury of their young master. At times that he’s not in a good mood, they’d usually get unreasonable beating. They were also worried that the young miss still didn’t show up.

Hart glanced at his watch. 7:54 P.M. “It looks like we’ll have to prepare ourselves. Master Ohm’s gonna be breaking things and faces.”

Hart Escudero only managed until his second year in college, and he comes from a family of farmers. He has worked for the Consunjis for more than five years. To him, they are generous people, but they have a knack to be obsessed with beautiful women.

“This is bad, Manong Hart,” his rookie, Benjie, said. “He might shoot us. I hope the young miss arrives.”

He laughed. “Yeah, he might.”

Benjie is a newbie, and he’s only 20—eight years younger than him. He is his cousin in his father’s side. He was reluctant, at first, to recruit him, but he begged him since he had no money to raise his seven siblings. Add to that is that he’s a scaredy-cat. Alarmingly whatsoever, he admires their young master a lot to the point that he wants to be like him.

"You sure love Master Ohm, don't you?" Hart teased which made his cousin frown.

"Don't make it sound like I'm gay, Manong! I just..." Benjie defended himself.

"Just what?"

"I admire him a lot because he's strong unlike me. He's commanding unlike me. And..."

"And?"

"He gets to bed a lot of hot women. Unlike me."

Hart didn't want to laugh, especially when he realized that Benjie mostly pertained that he was envious. He has a small stature, and his face is like a girl's. It was no wonder that that the woman he likes whom he can only watch from afar being with his young master couldn't even notice him.

And then, there it was: a very familiar black car--the one they saw a lot of times before. The infamous dog came out, then proceeded to open the door for someone they've been anxious to see.