Devil's Lair

Chapter 4

Freya sat stiffly, clutching her purse, as the rain gently tapped against the tinted windows. She looked outside and watched the city's hazy lights pass by. Everything seemed strange. Isabelle had gone to great efforts to set this up, and Freya couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her chest.

The aim was clear: spoil the date. It sounded simple enough, but the nerves wouldn't calm. The driver looked at her through the rearview mirror.

"We should be there in about ten minutes, miss," he said with a professional tone.

Freya nodded mutely, but the words had just left his mouth when the car rocked. A sputtering sound filled the air, and the car slowed down. The driver sighed as he pulled over to the side of the road.

"What's going on?" Freya inquired, leaning forward.

"I apologize, miss. There appears to be a problem with our engine. Allow me to check." The driver stepped out, grabbing an umbrella as the rain continued to fall.

Freya tapped her fingers on her knee, impatiently. Minutes later, the driver returned, his look somber.

"It isn't looking good. I will call for help, but it may take some time.”

Freya’s heart sank. She checked the time on her phone. The eatery wasn’t far, just a few blocks away. “How far exactly?”

“About a five-minute walk, but it’s pouring out there,” the driver warned.

Freya hesitated. Her coat wasn’t thick enough to handle the rain, and her shoes weren’t made for puddles. But waiting here risked being late, and Isabelle had stressed the importance of punctuality so as not to make it obvious she's trying to ruin the date.

“I’ll walk,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt.

The driver raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I can try to call a cab…..”

“No need. It’s close enough,” Freya insisted, opening the door before she could second-guess herself. The cold rain hit her immediately, soaking through her clothes as she stepped onto the wet pavement. She pulled her coat tighter and started walking.

The neon lights from nearby signs reflected off the puddles on the slippery streets. Freya avoided streams of water and the occasional gust of wind that sent icy droplets stinging her cheeks, but she kept her head down.

She noticed a red umbrella as she rounded a corner. The man who held it walked quickly, his stride assured and weatherproof. Freya ignored him until muddy water sprayed onto her legs from his polished shoe, which splattered straight into a puddle next to her.

"Hey!" she shouted, her voice piercing through the rain.

The man came to a halt and turned slightly, revealing his sharp, pale features through the tilted red umbrella. He was tall, with his fitted coat taking on his wide shoulders. Without saying anything, he plunged into his pocket, drew out a crisp stack of bills, and shoved them into Freya's palm.

"Here," he said abruptly, his voice suave but dismissive. Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned and resumed walking at a quicker speed. Freya glanced at the money in her fingers, shocked and angry.

"What the hell?!" she yelled at him, but he didn't stop.

Her fingers tightened around the damp bills as she watched him disappear into the rain, the red umbrella fading into the distance. Who even did that? She wanted to throw the money away, but the chill in her wet clothes reminded her of how utterly ridiculous this night already was. If anything, the mud-stained outfit would help her ruin the date.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, she stopped to observe it. It was a location that shouted exclusivity. Towering glass windows and a subtle gold sign that read "The Vantage Room" adorned the clean, trendy outdoors. Inside, she could see spotless tables with crystal glasses and excellent china, and pleasant lighting.

It was a far cry from where she was now, dirty, soaked, and clutching a handful of crumpled money.

Freya let out a sigh and entered.

A host in a crisply ironed suit walked toward her, his eyes opening slightly at her look before he immediately covered them up. "Miss, do you have a booking?”

“Yes. Under Isabelle Viktor,” she replied, forcing confidence into her voice.

“Of course. Right this way.”

As she followed him, Freya tried to brush off the dried mud on her coat, but it was hopeless. She spotted her date before the host even pointed him out.

Sitting at a corner table was the man with the red umbrella.

Her breath caught as she took him in. He was gorgeous in an unnatural sense, with chiseled features, piercing eyes, and an easy grace that made everyone else in the room appear average. His pale complexion was brilliant in the mild lighting, and his dark hair fell precisely into place, as if he'd walked out of a magazine.

Freya felt a sting of frustration. How could she ruin this date if he looked like that?.

As she approached, the man looked up with an unreadable face. His eyes sparked with recognition, but he made no comment about their previous encounter.

“Miss Isabelle,” he greeted, standing up and extending a hand.

Freya hesitated, then shook it briefly before sitting down.

“You’re… not what I expected,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her mud-streaked clothes.

“Neither are you,” she shot back, refusing to let him intimidate her.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic. “Fair enough.”

Freya squared her shoulders. She wasn’t here to be charmed. This was a mission, and she intended to complete it.

She took a deep breath and decided to start with the most basic tactic, bad manners.

She picked up the menu and scanned it quickly, looking for the most outlandish items. “I’ll have the lobster bisque, the truffle pasta, and the foie gras,” she said, not even glancing at the prices.

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Hungry, are we?”

Freya smiled sweetly, feeling a bit of satisfaction at his reaction. “Starving,” she replied.

Liam nodded and ordered a simpler meal for himself, then leaned back in his chair, studying her. “So, Isabelle, tell me about yourself. Your father’s business is quite impressive.”

Freya feigned disinterest, twirling a lock of her damp hair around her finger. “Oh, you know, it’s just business. Nothing exciting.” She yawned, making it as obvious as possible.

Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Really? I would’ve thought you’d be more involved, given your reputation.”

Freya blinked, caught off guard. “My… reputation?”

“Yes, your reputation. Your father speaks highly of you. Says you’re sharp, driven, and always up for a challenge.”

Freya swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. “Well, maybe he exaggerates,” she said, forcing a laugh.

The waiter arrived with their appetizers, and Freya immediately dug into the lobster bisque, making sure to slurp loudly. Liam watched her, amusement flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t comment. She was beginning to feel like nothing she did would rattle him.

“So, what do you do for fun?” Liam asked, taking a delicate bite of his own food.

Freya chewed slowly, thinking. “I like to, uh, read. And shop. You know, typical stuff.” She shrugged.

Liam tilted his head. “Any favorite authors?”

Freya inwardly groaned. Isabelle was an avid reader; she should’ve prepared for this. “Oh, you know, the classics. Cephano Bliss, that sort of thing.”

Liam nodded. “Interesting. What about contemporary authors?”

Freya’s mind went blank. “Um, well, I haven’t had much time to read lately, with all the… shopping.”

Liam’s lips twitched as if holding back a laugh. “Of course. Shopping can be quite time consuming.”

Freya focused on her food, determined to ignore the way his eyes seemed to see right through her. She had to up her game. When the main course arrived, she made a point of eating as messily as possible, dropping bits of truffle pasta on the pristine tablecloth and licking her fingers.

Liam watched her with a bemused expression. “You’re quite… unique, aren’t you?”

Freya grinned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I try.”

Freya’s attempts at sabotage clash with Liam’s calm demeanor. Every time she thought she’d finally gotten under his skin, he would counter with a question or a remark that threw her off balance.

As dessert was being served, Liam leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious. “Isabelle, I have to admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect tonight. But you’ve surprised me.”

Freya arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And how’s that?”

Liam’s eyes locked onto hers, intense and unreadable. “You’re not what I expected. And that’s a good thing.”

Freya’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly masked it with a laugh. “Well, I aim to please.”

Liam smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, I can see that.”

The dessert, a delicate chocolate soufflé, sat untouched as tension thickened between them. Freya realized that despite her best efforts, she wasn’t making much progress in driving him away. He seemed… intrigued by her antics, rather than repulsed.

As they finished their meal, Liam checked his watch. “It’s still early. How about we do a little shopping? There’s a boutique just next door.”

Freya’s eyes widened. “Shopping? Now?”

“Yes. I think it would be fun,” Liam said, standing up and offering her his hand.

Freya hesitated. This wasn’t part of the plan. But then she remembered Isabelle’s insistence on keeping up appearances. Sighing inwardly, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her outside.

The rain had stopped, leaving the air crisp and cool. They walked the short distance to the boutique, its elegant display windows showcasing the latest high fashion. Liam held the door open for her, and she stepped inside, the warmth and opulence of the store enveloping her.

Freya wandered through the racks of designer clothes, trying to appear as uninterested as possible. Liam followed her, his presence a reminder of her mission.

“See anything you like?” he asked.

Freya picked up a gaudy sequined dress, holding it up with a mocking smile. “This is hideous. Perfect for a night out.”

Liam chuckled. “Not your style?”

“Not even close,” Freya said, dropping the dress back onto the rack.

They continued browsing, with Liam occasionally suggesting outfits and Freya dismissing them with exaggerated disdain. She was about to suggest they leave when Liam’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it and his expression shifted to one of concern.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said abruptly, his tone urgent.

Freya blinked, surprised. “What? Why?”

“Family emergency,” Liam said, already reaching for his wallet. He pulled it out and pressed the wallet into her hand. “Here, for the trouble, I'll take back the wallet on our next date.”

Freya stared at the money inside the wallet, feeling a mix of confusion and irritation. “I don’t need your money.”

Liam’s eyes softened briefly. “Consider it an apology for tonight. We’ll reschedule.” And with that, he turned and left the store, disappearing into the night.

Freya stood there, holding the wallet, feeling more confused than ever. She had come here to ruin the date, but instead, it felt like she was the one who had been played. Shaking her head, she walked out of the boutique, her thoughts swirling.