His Virgin Captive

“Don’t worry, Moirse,” my mother tells me with a tight smile on her face, “Sara’s probably on her way there.”

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel as I tear my eyes away from my phone screen. Sara’s not picking up my calls, I just hope she remembers to come to the bakery for the wedding cake tasting appointment.

“I’m not worried,” I lie through gritted teeth. Although Sara can be forgetful at times, she’s reliable enough to not forget something as important as this.

I whip past cars and pedestrians, the reading on the speedometer tells me that I am driving almost over the speed limit in a bid to make it on time.

“Slow down, Moirse!” Mum reproaches. “You’re going to get us killed.”

I ignore the urge to roll my eyes, Mum can be a little dramatic sometimes. “We are driving at the speed limit, Mum. Don’t worry.”

Her frown lines don’t disappear and from the corner of my eye, I see her double-check that her seat belt is strapped on.

“It’s just a cake tasting appointment,” she tells me, “not a matter of life and death.”

She’s wrong; it’s not just a cake tasting appointment, it’s my wedding cake tasting appointment and everything has to be perfect to the very last detail. I’m getting married to Ben who’s the love of my life since high school and this wedding has literally been my dream for years. My dress, the decorations and the cake must be exactly how I love it.

I close my eyes and picture my ivory-colored dress, hanging on a mannequin in my bedroom and it brings a smile to my face. I’ve been painstakingly working on it for months and Ben is not allowed to see it until I’m walking down the aisle.

“Mum, please dial Sara again,” I say, breaking out of my reverie.

The call rings and stops, the icy fingers of dread clutch me.

I flinch at a loud bang that sounds from the bonnet of my sedan car as it rolls to a halt.

“Oh my God!” Mum exclaims. “Did we hit something?” She unbuckles her seat belt and hurries out of the car.

I feel hot tears sting the back of my eyes. Why today of all days? I wonder as I prop up the bonnet to assess the problem.

Mum peers at it from my side. “What happened?”

“I think the engine knocked,” I reply with a sad sigh.

A long line of impatient drivers are honking at us from behind. I wave my hand, telling them to drive around my sick car. They finally get the message, sparing us looks of pity as they drive off.

“What are we going to do now?” Mum asks.

“I’ll call a taxi.” I lean in from the window at the driver’s seat to reach my smartphone.

“You’re having car trouble?” A deep voice asks from behind me.

I whirl around so fast that I bump my head on the frame of the window. I massage the sore spot as I crane my neck to take in the man in front of me.

He’s well over six feet tall because even in the heels I’m wearing, he towers over me. His muscular build is evident in the way his grey t-shirt clings to his shoulders and hugs his biceps; his long legs are clad in beige chinos which are tucked into his heavy-duty leather boots and his piercing blue gaze makes me momentarily forget how to speak.

“Y-Yes...” I finally stutter out. “I think it’s the engine,” I add, my intention of calling a taxi is forgotten.

“Can I take a look?” He asks me but it’s Mum who answers.

“Sure,” she pipes up.

I watch him scrutinize the bonnet, checking the oil and water levels, shaking his head and making a low tsk sound. “You’re right,” he says, “the problem is from your engine.”

My heart sank for the second time, somehow I thought he could wave his hand over the bonnet and make it all better.

“I can call my mechanic for you,” he says as he pulls out an expensive smartphone from his pocket and starts dialing a number.

I blink in an attempt to hold back the tears. “I’m already late so there’s no need for that, I’ll just call a taxi.”

He raises his hand in a gesture that’s asking me to wait, he rapidly explains the situation to the person on the other end of the line and tells them our location. “I’ll drop you off,” he offers as he drops the call.

I’m extremely flattered by his generosity and kindness, not only stopping to see if he could be of help but calling his mechanic and also offering us a ride. His mother raised a gentleman.

“Thanks so much, Mr...”

“I’m Rilan,” he says and he stretches his hand towards me. His hand envelopes mine as he gives it a firm shake. His fingers are long, his grip is strong and his nails are clean.

“Nice to meet you, Rilan. I’m Moirse and please don’t worry about giving us a ride, you’ve already done enough.”

“Moirse.” My name effortlessly rolls off his tongue. “Please, it’s no trouble at all.” He gestures to a midnight black Jeep parked behind my sky-blue sedan.

I shoot Mum a questioning look and she gives me an imperceptible nod, we follow him to his Jeep. We either get kidnapped or make it to the appointment.

The interior of his Jeep smells of freshly squeezed lemons and polished leather. It’s so much nicer than my cheap secondhand sedan.

When he leaned over to buckle my seatbelt, I held my breath because breathing in his scent would make a sinful trifecta; it was bad enough that I ogled at him and accepted his offer of a ride.

“So where are we going?” He asks.

Suddenly, my throat closes up.

“To Number Five Sweetling Avenue,” Mum replies. “We are going for Moirse’s wedding cake tasting.”

I’m grateful Mum came to my rescue.

Rilan glances at me through the rearview mirror with a smile on his lips. “Congratulations.”

Sara’s not waiting for me outside the bakery like I hoped. Mum notices my disappointment and gives me a small pat on my shoulder.

I thank Rilan for the ride and hurry out of his Jeep. He calls me back and hands me his complimentary card.

“Oh, thanks,” I say.

“It’s so you can reach me,” he replies. "If you need a ride back home,” he adds to soothe my confusion.

“I can’t possibly bother you like that, Rilan,” I object. “You’ve been so helpful already.”

“But how else will you get back home?” he asks with a small chuckle. His phone buzzes and he glances at it. “That’s the mechanic, I better go keep an eye on him while he’s fixing your car.” And with that, he zooms away. His car roared down the street.

I stare at his departing car in shock with my mouth agape and his card pinched between my fingers. “What if he steals the car?”

Mum shoots a death squint at me. “That man is your guardian angel, Moirse.”

I try to push away the sadness I feel that my best friend isn’t hear to give me her opinion. Mum and I decide on vanilla, red velvet and chocolate for the bottom, middle and top tiers of the cake and royal cream frosting. We pick a simple white and gold vintage design, I give the payment and in no time, I’m standing outside the bakery and dialing Rilan’s number from his card.

I chew on my lower lip as I listen to the phone ring. I wanted to call a taxi but Mum insisted I call him. He picks up on the last ring. “Moirse.”

I smile at the sound of my name in his voice. He informs us of the status of my car repair and tells us he’ll be down by the bakery in a few minutes.

“How did it go?” he asks me but Mum’s the one to reply.

While she’s talking, I can feel his eyes on me, watching me in the rearview mirror. I wonder if he spends his time driving in his Jeep and looking for a damsel in distress to save. Why’s he so helpful to me when I’m a complete stranger to him?

“Do you want to go straight home and I let you know when the mechanic is done?” He asks.

Against my better judgment, I tell him I need to go straight home, something inside me is screaming that I need to go home.

I meet Mum’s worried gaze. “I just need to freshen up then I’ll check up on the car,” I tell her reassuringly.

Rilan drops us off with a dazzling grin as he shrugs off our offer to come inside for refreshments then he speeds off after giving me the mechanic’s number. Mum immediately goes to the garden to check on her Silphium.

“Ben?” I call out as I step inside and I’m met with no reply.

The house is silent. The kind of silence that is heavy with anticipation, every movement I make is so loud; the floorboards creak with every step, the fabric of my trousers whisper as they rub against each other and my breathing is too loud.

I find myself hesitating as my fingers curl around the doorknob of my bedroom. My eyes settle on the figures in my canopy bed when I fling the door open.

Sara’s slender long legs are wrapped around Ben’s waist like a ribbon. When her brown doe eyes meet mine, she stops abruptly and goes still like a deer caught in headlights and lets out a shrill scream.

Ben is frantic, he leaps off the bed and comes rushing to my side. I’ve never seen him this scared; trembling and wide-eyed. He has always been confident, the kind of person to lit up a room and carry a conversation but now, he’s whimpering like a hurt puppy with his genitals on full display.

I don’t feel anything: I feel numb. I am not even sure why I am not surprised, it’s like I knew something devastating was going to happen. Today’s the worst day of my life.

Bile rises up my throat as I take in their unclad bodies. They look pathetic as they grovel and beg while nude. My boyfriend and my best friend, both of whom I’ve known since high school, sleeping together days before my wedding. Who would have thought?

“Moirse, please—” Sara cries out and my eyes dart to her. She presses her palms together and laces her fingers in an attempt to seem remorseful, tears course down her face.

The numbness is replaced with bitter, overpowering hate. “How dare you?!”

“Baby, listen. I’m sorry.” Ben reaches for me but I push him away. He tries again, rapping endearment and pleas. I evade his hold, wrestling my way out of the same hands I thought would hold me forever.

“Why?” I ask him because I deserve to know.

“It just happened—”

My scream cuts him off. I deserve a concrete, non-cliché response.

I hear Mum rush in, she stands frozen at the doorway with her mouth forming a perfect O. “What the hell is going on here?” This is the first time I’ve heard my mother swear in all twenty-three years of my life.

Sara quickly wraps the duvet around her naked body. She keeps apologising over and over.

“Get out!” Mum screams, pointing to the door.

Sara collects her clothes off the floor and dashes out. I pray to never lay eyes on her again.

“And you.” Mum turns to Ben.

He crumples to the floor, his arms stretched out. “Baby, please we fix this. Let’s not throw away everything we’ve built over the years.”

“We?” Ire boils inside me. “You’re the one who’s throwing away everything we built not me!”

“Ben...” Mum starts then trails off. Her red eyes are brimming with tears.

“It’s over,” I choke out, my voice shaking and threatening to break. “Please leave.”

I turn to leave, his grip like a vice clamps around my wrist. “Baby,” he pleads, pulling me into a hug. “Moirse, I’m sorry. She seduced me and it was hard for me to resist, you know? I know we agreed to be celibate till marriage but I fell and I’m sorry. I promise to make this right.”

He’s pressing me against his clammy birthday suit. With a sigh, I relax in his arms, letting him think I’m reconsidering and when he least expects it, I raise my knee and slam it into his dangling scrotum.

He shrieks like a shot animal and falls to the ground, clutching it. With a glance over my shoulder, I run out of my bedroom.

My vision is blurred from my tears, my pulse is racing and all I’m hearing is the sound of my heartstrings snapping.

“I’m calling off the wedding.” I’m standing next to Mum, watching her hand weed the Silphium beds. Their slender, lavender petals spread as they bloom.

“Let’s not be hasty now—” A weed snaps as Mum uproots it from the earth.

“I’m not being hasty!” I snap. “There’s no way I’m forgiving him let alone marrying him!” My fingernails press into my palms as I curl my hand into a fist.

“I’m sorry, Moirse.” Mum pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back like she used to do when I was a child.

By the time we were done picking fresh Silphium for tea, Ben was gone.

I’m gulping down sweet-sour Silphium tea and chomping down on a chicken sandwich, trying to fill the void in me when my phone rings. My hand shakes as I receive the call.

“Rilan...”

“Moirse,” his voice sounds distant like he’s driving and yelling at his phone which is in the passenger seat. “Your car’s fixed. Are you home so I can bring it?”

It just downed on me that this stranger took me to and fro my cake-tasting appointment, dropped me off at home and is now offering to deliver my fixed car to me. What a day!

“Er...” I wipe my fingers on a napkin and leap to my feet. Mum takes off her glasses and gives me a pointed look, she mouths something I can’t make out. “Let me come and get it. I’ll be there in a jiffy, I have to pay—”

“No worries,” he says, interrupting me, “I have already paid and sent the mechanic on his way. I can get your car to you, Moirse.”

“Rilan,” I say with a sigh, a bit overwhelmed—scratch that, I’m beyond overwhelmed. “You’ve already done too much. I’ll pick it up and reimburse you. Are you always this generous?”

“I mean, what kind of man would I be to ignore a damsel in distress?” His question is punctuated by the blasting of car horns.

“So, you’re a Knight in shining armour now?”

“Just for you.”

And for the first time today, I let out a small laugh that’s more like a chuckle but it was short-lived, the image of Ben and Sara entangled in my bed broke through.

Just as I open my mouth to form a snappy response and shoot down Rilan’s flirting, a familiar car horn blares from outside.

Mum goes to the window and peers out. “He brought your car, Moirse.” She goes outside to invite him in while I tidy up and shove a whole muffin in my mouth.

“Nice place,” he says as he crosses the doorway. He dangles my car keys from his fingers, I collect them from him.

“I’m so, so grateful, Rilan.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a careless shrug.

Mum offers him a seat and some Silphium tea. He perks up at the offer and accepts it.

“You never told me what cake flavours you settled for.”

I ignore his statement, the last thing I want to talk about is my wedding. Mum reappears from the kitchen holding a tray of muffins and places it in front of Rilan.

“You’re such a gentleman, Rilan. An actual guardian angel! The type of man a mother wishes for her daughter.”

She gives me a glance. I ignore that too.

“Thanks so much, Mrs...”

“Oh, just call me Tess, Rilan,” she replies with a giggle.

“Where did you get this Silphium tea?” he asks and his countenance seems more animated. “It’s almost extinct. In fact, I haven’t seen the herb since I was a child and it was a favourite in my family.”

“Oh, it’s actually a favourite amongst us too. My parents cultivated it and I do so too in my garden, I can give you some to go, if you want.”

“I’d love that so much!” he chuckles. “My brother will be so happy and that’s saying a lot, he’s almost never happy.”

Mum blushes and gets busy with assembling some Silphium tea bags for Rilan.

He downs the tea in one large gulp, wipes his mouth then stuffs it with a muffin. He gives Mum a quick kiss on the cheek as she hands him the tea bags and steps out.

“You won’t walk him off?” She asks me.

Wordlessly, I step out after him.

“I should give you a ride at least,” I say, unlocking the door.

“So, am I invited to the wedding?” He asks minutes later, breaking our silence streak.

I turn a curve according to his directions and place my focus ahead, the last thing I want to add to today’s list of misfortunes is a car accident. “He cheated with my best friend.”

“Oh.” He falls silent for a moment. “That’s a plot twist,” he finally says.

I let out a hiss of annoyance and ire.

“I’m so sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood.”

“Bad timing,” I reply flatly.

“Let me make it up to you; does lunch sound OK?”

I scoff. “Rilan, who are you and what are you trying to do?”

He doesn’t reply and we spend the remaining drive in silence. I stop in front of a duplex; well-trimmed hedges, a fountain and a large driveway. He seems to be well-off, which explains the fleet of cars in his open garage and how he could afford to pay car repair bills for a total stranger.

I don’t comment on his massive house or his serene compound. “Alright, Rilan. Thanks for everything,” I say as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens my car door. I can’t wait to go home and sleep for a month.

He steps out and gives me a pointed look. “Take me up on that offer, Moirse. Let’s make it dinner.”

I force myself to smile. “I’ll let you know, Rilan.”

“You won’t come inside?” He has magically contoured his confident countenance into a pleading one.

On one hand, it won’t hurt to have a drink with him but on the other, he’s still a stranger that I met hours ago. Things have changed since then, I think to myself, I was engaged to Ben and Sara was going to be my bridesmaid.

“I’m coming,” I blurt. My brain is screaming for me to turn back and leave but my hurt, broken heart is not listening. I’m too distracted by my thoughts to take in the splendor of his huge house and the labyrinth of rooms we pass before we arrive at a small room that doubles as a bar.

I let him pour me glass after glass of sparkling wine, and I’m only half listening when he indulges me in his personal tales.

“... Moirse.” His voice flinched me back to the present.

“Sorry, I got distracted,” I admit. I feel the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks and the tips of my ears.

His gaze lands on my mouth, I can only guess that he’s thinking what I’m thinking. I take the bait, lean in and press my mouth to his. Maybe the only way to get over Ben is to get under Rilan.

Rilan kisses me back with an increasing urgency. “Moirse,” he whispers my name when our lips pry apart, “are you sure? Your wedding—”

“Shut up and kiss me, Rilan!” I say in a growl. I just want to feel loved and desired, and it won’t hurt getting that from a man like Rilan.

My fingers are weaved into his thick, blond tresses and his hands are caressing my curves. His kisses are sweet, tainted with sparkling wine. With a small groan, he pulls me on top of him.

My hands are shaking as I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it off. His body is exactly what I expected; taut, lean and featured by sinewy muscles. I take my time admiring him.

“You look so good,” I say.

“No, you do.” He kisses a line down the side of my neck, over my collarbone and heading down to my breasts—

“Rilan! How could you?” The shrill feminine voice grinds the carousel of arousal in my head to a halt.