Chapter 2: Dangerous Obsession
1158 Words
Ms. Charbonneau, his voice is pleasant, quiet. Too quiet. You have to visit my workplace.
I gulp and attempt to control my breathing. There are no specifics, no rationale. Only the order and his voice's disturbing quiet.
"I'll be right there," I say, my voice more stable than my actual feeling.
My footsteps reverberating in the stillness, I navigate the darkened office. Victor's office door is ajar; I push it open to see him standing by his desk, back to me, flipping through documents. The light creates long shadows across his body, therefore accentuating his usual size.
"Come in," he says, still facing away. Though soft, his voice has clear command.
I enter and shut the door. The air in the room seems thick with something I can't quite identify. His presence is like a storm about to break.
Still without looking up, he replies, "I need you to accompany me on a business trip." Though it's last-minute, I can't afford delays.
I blink, surprised. A work trip? Along with him? It's a strange ask, and something about it makes my heart race. I try to read his face but find only that impenetrable control mask.
"Mr. Albert, I'm not sure I get it," I add, my voice showing some uncertainty. "Why should I be the one?"
At last, he looks up at me with a piercing, analytical stare. "I trust you. I also want someone I can count on.
There's a break in time and I can sense the room's tension growing. My stomach turns and I briefly question if I might decline. But even before he speaks, I know the solution.
You will arrive, right? His voice is low and authoritative; there is no place for debate.
I hesitate, caught between the disturbing thrill and anxiety roiling within me. "Yes, Mr. Albert," I reply, the words escaping my mouth before I could stop them.
I hadn't thought twice to say yes when he said I would be accompanying him on this work trip. I didn't know whether to be more curious or afraid. His icy efficiency is like a drug; even while my instinct screams at me to run, I can't help but want to be closer.
I imagined the flight would be a moment to regain my breath, perhaps separate myself from the stifling tension I have every time he is close. But the minute I sat next to him, I understood how absurd that notion was. The air between us seemed heated, packed with unspoken statements and quiet doubts. During the flight, Victor didn't say much. Always concentrating on work, his eyes remained fixed on his laptop. But I was unable to control my wandering thoughts. I observed him, how precisely his fingers danced over the keyboard, how his jaw tensed with each incoming phone, and how his forceful tone made the other person's voice seem small and unimportant.
His presence was tough to overlook. Strong. Attracting. And I despised not being able to turn away. Every second spent near him seemed to pull me farther into his circle, against my better judgement.
I didn't start to feel the gravity of the scenario in my chest until we started down. I looked at my phone, hoping to divert my attention from the ideas spinning in my head, but then I noticed an anonymous message flashing on the screen.
"Stay away from Victor, or you'll regret it."
As we deplane, I attempt to ignore the warning. The air here is unusual, heavy with humidity, the smell of something unknown, like oil and salt. His walk deliberate and assured, I follow Victor leading the way. He practically owns everything in view. I can't help but feel a peculiar respect for the way he controls every area he enters; his movements are deliberate and efficient.
Still, that message haunts me in the back of my mind, eating at me like an unshakeable secret. The words ring in my head: "Stay away from Victor..." But what is it? Is this all just a warning, or is there something deeper behind it?
Victor seems oblivious to my inner conflict. Already on his phone, he is telling his helper to do something unimportant and not giving me a second look. His capacity to compartmentalise is nearly frightening. He travels through life with a single-mindedness; I can't tell whether I envy or dread that.
Arriving to the hotel, a contemporary, streamlined structure with floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the city lights. Victor walks to the front desk and chats briefly with the concierge. I watch him from a distance. His motions are unhesitating; he has no second-guessing. The universe seems to bow to his will; everyone around him just falls into line.
Though he isn't staring at me, I sense the burden of his stare on me once more as we approach the lift. He seemed to be studying me unconsciously. The air between us crackles with a sort of unsaid tension I don't know how to manage.
Inside the lift, we stand side by side in thick, oppressive quiet. Though the lift rises, I attempt to focus on the figures; all I can think about is our isolation. All by myself.
The lift dings gently to indicate we have reached the top level. We leave and I instantly feel the opulent atmosphere of the suite. All sharp edges and contemporary art, it's opulent. Everything in the place seems immaculate, almost as though the turmoil of the outer world had not affected it.
Victor turns to look at me after dropping his briefcase on the polished table. His lips show a little grin, but it doesn't touch his eyes. We will rest. Then we shall start working.
I nod, attempting to overlook the sinking sensation in my gut. I have no cause to feel this way. I am here to work. Every part of me, nevertheless, is telling me this is more than only labour. A lot more.
I look at my phone one more as I prepare to sit down. The message still stares back at me. Though I lack the guts to open it, my finger hovers over the screen. Not quite yet.
Victor's voice surprisingly gentle, "I'll handle dinner," he offers as if reading my mind. "Why don't you rest?"
Surprised by the shift in tone, I turn to face him. With his back to me, he is already headed towards the minibar. His remarks are not malicious, yet the slight change in his presence makes something in my chest stir. I can't breathe without considering what could follow since it seems as though the air itself has thickened.
Sitting down, my mind is a maelstrom. Why am I here? What made me decide to go on this trip? And why does it seem like I'm entering something beyond my control?
Once more, Victor's voice pierces the stillness. Lois, you should believe me. I am not here to hurt you.
- Writer
