Bad Blood Books 1-3

Chapter V

Chapter V

FOR MANY DAYS after Anthony had left, I would linger in the steamy afterglow of that afternoon. His seemingly complete control over me, his knowing touches that left no room for protests or second thoughts, his warm lips and his inquisitive tongue, his fingers and his perfect body moving over me in the light of the sunset. While the pleasure of it all and the powerful orgasm that made it into one of my personal tops were what made the memories so intoxicating, the underlying feelings—or rather lack of certain feelings—and thoughts were what pushed me to revisit that afternoon so often. Openly or not, depending on the moment of my life, I had always been quite passionate and s****l. Any experience, good, great or just average, had been liberating. There had been nothing liberating about that first s****l encounter with Anthony, satisfying and exhilarating as it was. Although his own pleasure and satisfaction in having s*x with me had been undeniable, I knew it hadn’t been raw desire that had powered his actions. When we were still lingering in my bed afterward, eyes half-closed, his words and touches seemed warm, but his entire being felt cold.

I told myself I was trying to find ways to sabotage whatever had happened. The past year had taught me nothing good could come of such an encounter, no man would be truly interested in me, I wasn’t really worth that much effort. So I focused on working out and fervently striking my keyboard, trying not to think, not to remember, not to question it anymore.

Anthony’s daily calls were not helping much with that. He’d call every day at 3 pm and engage in meaningless small talk. At one point or another, he’d hint at wanting to see me again or missing me, but never wholeheartedly. It was as if he was trying to show no weakness. I’d smile throughout the conversation, but when I’d finally hang up, I’d feel something was amiss.

Simply put, no matter how highly I tried to think of myself, Anthony’s looks and way of being did not point to someone who’d actually meet a woman, be taken over by an overwhelming passion, and from miles away keep reaching out to them afterward. He seemed more like the type of guy women would chase, not the other way around.

Two days before my departure, almost everything was packed and ready to be squeezed into my little red mushroom, as I liked to refer to my car. I was busy saying my goodbyes to the island, one favorite spot at a time, when I got an early call from Anthony, the first deviation from his 3 pm ritual.

“I’m sending you an email,” he said in a very controlled voice. No hello, no small talk.

“Okay, I’ll read it a bit later. I was just on my way out.”

“No, read it now. I’ll wait.”

I once more felt my hands pushed back and locked into his, urging me to do as he wanted. “Fine,” I huffed after a few seconds of silence, quite annoyed with the feeling of forcefulness coming off him. I powered my laptop and launched my email client.

Alexa,

I know you’re supposed to return to Bucharest and go back to your old life. Doesn’t a new one sound better? Why don’t you prolong your break from the past and, instead of driving east, try heading north and come stay with me in Amsterdam. I only ask for one month. You can work from wherever you are, so it would not be a complete halt to your life. Just give it a try.

Anthony

I read it a few times, more astonished each time, but I said nothing.

“So?” His voice sounded distant on the phone, but the impatience in his tone was clear.

“Amsterdam? I thought you lived in London.” It was hardly as important as him asking me to spend a month with him, but the detail had caught my attention.

“I am leaving for Amsterdam tomorrow. Freelance work for a travel magazine that made an offer I could not refuse,” he said, speaking faster than usual, as if rushing through his words.

“What about All Things Vampires? Are you quitting or something?” I knew I was trying hard to avoid answering his question. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the phone closer to my ear.

“No, I will still work there, but remotely. Like you.”

“Anthony, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say yes. What have you got to lose?”

“It’s not that easy.” I sighed and fell on the chair at my desk.

“Look, it will be a house with two separate entrances. You’ll have your room, I’ll have mine. You can pretty much avoid me entirely if you put your mind to it. Just come and give it a try.”

“Can I think about it?”

“No.” I knew he was joking because I could pretty much hear his smile, but it still felt like an ultimatum. “Please, just come. If you hate it, you can always drive home.”

My ego got its ultimate boost. Hearing Anthony plead with me to go to Amsterdam with him was like steroids for my self-confidence. But I also felt that home was the next stop for me. Then again, I had friends in Amsterdam, which could be a good enough excuse.

“OK, then. I’ll come to Amsterdam and spend some time with you.”

“Perfect!”

The sound of his laughter washed over me and I felt my lips curve into a smile. “I am not promising a month, though. Nor to dedicate the whole time I have to you.”

“I know. You have to work, too, and you need to write, I suppose.”

“I do, but that’s not what I meant. I have friends there, and I will want to see them. I need some distance from time to time, just to have some sort of objectivity and decide if staying there with you is a good idea.”

“That is perfectly understandable. Thank you and see you in a few days.”

He hung up before I had time to say goodbye. He really didn’t want me to have any chance to change my mind. I still could, though. I had a life in Bucharest. That thought suddenly seemed pathetic, a sorry excuse to turn down an adventure. I had nothing of utmost importance in Bucharest. Someone else was staying in my apartment and they’d be happy to stick around for another month. I used to have a best friend, but she was now very much involved in a relationship with my ex. My other friends couldn’t hide the pity in their eyes, especially those who were also their friends. My parents didn’t live in Bucharest so I didn’t see them much. And my work was location independent. There was nothing calling me home, other than my need to parade how well I was doing, how great I looked, and how everything in my life was just awesome.

Then again, proving to everyone they were wrong about me, and secretly wanting to show the two people who had betrayed me that I was doing fine, was no sign of having moved on. Somewhere in my foggy brain, I did want my ex to take a look at me and regret it all so that I could have my turn at rejecting him.

It was high time I started thinking about myself and stopped planning things for others’ sake. Behind all the fear and the strange feelings, I had embarked on a torrid affair with a beautiful man, whose secrets and complicated mind I’d have a field day discovering. I had left the pain and failures of Bucharest behind months ago. I had come here and I was happier the moment I’d driven my car past the border, although I was still struggling. Now I had a chance to live again, get to know someone and maybe fall in love, and reconnect with friends that didn’t feel sorry for me just because I got dumped for my bestie.

Determined, I walked out the door, standing tall and striding across the hotel lobby. When I got outside, I realized I was just going on a leisurely stroll on the beach and all that might I had called upon was not part of the movie I was currently in. I laughed at myself and shook my head at my attempt to bring forth my utmost power and determination just to go watch the waves go by.

The walk managed to relax me, helping me enjoy my final days in Malta while doing as much work as I could so that the first few days in Amsterdam would not be such a hassle. I left on a sunny but windy morning at the end of March, taking the ferry to Sardinia. I switched to a different ferry to Marseille, where I found my way to a small hotel on the city outskirts that I had booked online. The next day, I woke up as early as possible, started Mushroom’s engine, drove off to the north of France, crossed Belgium, and waved to Spa Francorchamps, as the name triggered a distant memory of a ski competition I had watched with my stepfather. Then I crossed the border again into the Netherlands, finally making my way to Amsterdam.

I’d tried not to stop much, but it had still been quite a drive so, hours after nightfall, I was still a few kilometers away from Amsterdam. I thought to call Anthony because I hadn’t spoken to him since earlier that morning. He didn’t pick up. I pulled over at the nearest gas station and tried his number again. No answer. I started to panic, thinking this was all a big joke, a cruel prank that had me drive thousands of kilometers for nothing. I went inside the gas station and bought a bottle of Coke Zero. I downed half of it in an instant, then tried to breathe and relax. It was not the end of the world. I had his address. I could try to get there and if he wasn’t at said address, I could always find a hotel, spend a few days with my friends, then go home.

I still felt scared and disappointed, but I had a plan. As I was reaching into my jacket pocket for the car keys, my cell rang. I was relieved to see Anthony’s name and number.

“Sorry, I was upstairs making sure everything was ready in your room.”

“Hi, Anthony. That’s okay.” I tried to sound calm and not show how relieved and happy I was it hadn’t all been a complete bust. Thankfully, I was tired enough for the excitement to stay hidden.

“Where are you?”

“I stopped at a gas station that’s about ten kilometers away.”

“Great. Then you’ll be here soon. Can’t wait.” He sounded genuinely cheerful and I got infected with it.

“Me either. Right about now, I’d kill for a hot shower and a comfy bed.”

“Oh, my…” he said as if the world had crumbled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, here I was thinking right about now you’d kill to be in my arms again…” I felt the smile in his voice, but I thought the disappointment was partly real.

“And you’re modest, too!”

“Never,” he whispered, and that voice went straight down my spine.

“Okay, then go admire yourself in the mirror till I get there. See you in a bit.”

Laughing, he hung up, and I felt ten thousand times better. The initial plan was still on.

I drove to a deserted city. It was probably the late hour, but I was thankful, as it meant no traffic. Taking left and right turns and roundabout exits, as the sexy voice of the GPS lady was telling me, I made my way to a quiet street with very Dutch two-story houses. Most windows were dark and everybody seemed to be asleep already.

I had a hunch the only house with all its windows lit would be the one Anthony was in. I parked in front of it and looked for a house number, but I couldn’t see one. The door burst open and I saw him rushing out. I turned the engine off and got out of the car. Anthony took me in his arms and kissed me intently, not letting go for several minutes.

That kiss was exactly how I imaged the big endings of romance movies. He was there, holding me tightly, taking my breath away with his kiss, smiling broadly and saying how much he had missed me. So why did it feel rehearsed? Nothing about Anthony seemed out of place or lacking a carefully thought out plan. Maybe he wasn’t very spontaneous. Maybe he had issues expressing his feelings and was careful about showing everything that needed showing.

I was too tired to overanalyze things like I usually did so I just let go of my doubts and decided to enjoy the moment. When he suggested going inside, my eyes zeroed in on his thin black tie, complementing the light blue shirt. I leaned on the car door, reached for it and pulled him closer, initiating the kiss this time. I wanted to feel him hungry for me again, kissing my neck and desperately searching for a way under my top. Which he almost found, but stopped himself and whispered in my ear, “Let’s go inside.”

We took my bags out of the tiny trunk of my Peugeot 107 and walked in. We left everything in the hallway, as he took my hand and led me to a small, classically decorated dining room. It was lit by three very large, bright red candles.

“Dinner is served,” he said, smiling, and held my chair to sit down. “It’s nothing much, just some pasta, but it’s the only edible thing I can cook.” He shrugged and looked away, almost shyly.

“It smells delicious,” I said, and I wasn’t lying. I couldn’t tell if I actually liked the taste much or if it seemed good because he’d made dinner for me, but I was too hungry to care.

After dinner, he took me to my room. Narrow, spiraled stairs led directly to the second floor, which held a couple of bedrooms, a little office, and a bathroom. He showed me into the larger of the two bedrooms, placed my bags on the floor, and ushered me to the bathroom.

“I thought you’d enjoy a hot bath so I ran one for you.”

So that was what he had been doing when he had excused himself during the meal and disappeared upstairs. Nice touch. I couldn’t believe our first evening together turned out perfect. No mistakes, no detail overlooked…exactly what I needed.

It wasn’t just any bath that Anthony had prepared for me. It was a scented bubble bath that I couldn’t help but long for the moment I had spotted the large bathtub. I stripped quickly and got in.

A short while later, Anthony walked back in, making no sound. He looked everywhere but at me as he approached the bathtub. He leaned on the edge and knelt down, his eyes trained on the foamy water. He ran his hand through the hot liquid, slowly tracing my leg up and down without actually touching it. Still ignoring me, his attention followed the slow-paced glide of his hand, dipping lower with every pass, until his fingertips grazed my skin. As he moved up my thigh, his eyes locked on mine. Anthony reached for the plug and yanked it out, watching as the water drained, slowly revealing my body. My n*****s hardened, both from the sudden kiss of cold air and the intimate yet almost tentative caress of moments before. Without a word, Anthony stood and turned to the sink, opening a large drawer just under it. He took out a white, fluffy towel and threw it over his shoulder as he walked back to the edge of the tub. He reached for me, his hands motioning for me to stand. I bit my lower lip, my breathing shallow and my head swimming. I took his hands and stood. Please be graceful, not your usual clumsy mess. I sighed as he wrapped the towel around me and leaned into his embrace. I took a sharp intake of breath as Anthony picked me up and carried me to my bedroom.