Chapter 3: Unwelcome Surprise
1227 Words
"You'll have the steak," he says, looking at me over his drink.
I blink, surprised by the power in his voice. Though the words seem more like an order than a suggestion, I'm here as his helper, not his subordinate. I nod, attempting to take back control, but deep down I know I have none.
Victor's look turns again towards me, calculating. He doesn't have to enquire whether I am at ease. He already knows the solution. He's already scheduled it. Every moment, every action is part of his plan.
"Everything's okay?", he enquires, not really a question. His eyes scan me as though I were part of the decor, something to be examined.
The words stuck in my throat make me swallow hard. Indeed, Mr. Albert. Everything is great.
He lifts an eyebrow and smirks. Well. I expect no less from you.
Following the meal, we return to the hotel and the mood between us changes once more. The walls seem to be closing in on me. Since we sat down at the table, his stare has not left me; now, even in the dimly illuminated hotel corridor, I can sense the heaviness of his eyes on me.
His pace deliberate, intentional, he walks ahead. Every stride he takes seems to be drawing me in, as if I have no option but to follow. And I really do. Though my heart races with every stride, I feel driven to walk in time with him.
We get into the lift and I quietly stand next to him. The only sounds are the soft hum of the lift and the sound of my own breathing, too loud in the solitude. The aroma of his cologne mingling with the cool air surrounding us lets me feel the heat pouring off of him. It's too much, and all I can think about is him.
From the corner of my eye, I look at him. Though his look is inscrutable, the manner he stands suggests something. His movement. He seems to own everything surrounding him.
He turns a little to face me. I skip my heart. His eyes are tense, dark and fierce, and I can't tell if it's want or something else completely. His look is sharp and all-consuming, as if he were scrutinising me.
His voice low and measured, he adds, "I hope you're ready for the next section of the journey." More of a statement than a question. Though I can't tell what he truly means, his words hang in the air like a warning.
"I'm ready," I say, unsure of what I'm ready for. I feel as though I'm already deep in something I cannot escape.
My phone vibrates. There is a note. I look at the screen, already dreading what it could be, but I wasn't ready for this. The name on the display is unfamiliar.
"Stay away from Victor; otherwise, you'll regret it."
The words are clear-cut, direct. My fingertips hanging over the screen, I gaze at the message for what seems like an eternity. I catch my breath. Are you kidding? A danger?
I look around the room and feel quite alone all of a sudden. Though the door is secured and the windows are shut, the feeling of being watched remains.
I think quickly. Who could understand what Victor and I are experiencing? Who would be foolish enough to send such a note?
Though the idea remains, I shake my head in an effort to dispel the growing anxiety. The statement seemed too genuine, too intimate. And I cannot disregard that. I shall not.
But my body won't let me even try to ignore it. Every sound, every door movement feels magnified. Staring at the television in stillness, I wait for something to occur.
Another note arrives, more unsettling than the first.
Getting too near him will ensure your death.
The ambiance changes the instant I enter the eatery. Soft lighting creates shadows on polished marble and the gentle hum of talks permeates the room. Still, none of it counts. Victor's presence is here. Somehow, his presence alone owns every inch of this location.
I do my best to ignore him, but I can't help it. Now sitting opposite me, the low light highlighting the sharp features of his face. Though his eyes are cold and chiselled, his jawline doesn't shift as he speaks. His eyes are ablaze with something I can't quite identify. Every time they lock onto mine, I feel my breath catch since there is a gravitational pull to them.
"You have done well thus far, Ms. Charbonneau," he continues, his voice smooth, perhaps too sweet. Though it seems like an exam, it's commendation. His words are flowing between us like an unseen thread, measuring me and drawing me farther into whatever game he is playing.
Though it should be simpler, I find it difficult to maintain my professionalism when I smile. He does not look away. It's almost as though he's reading me. Examining every aspect, analysing my ideas.
"I value your confidence," I say, my voice seeming more gentle than I meant. I clear my throat, attempting to drive the discomfort away.
Victor tilts his head slightly, thinking about me, and for a brief second I question whether he is waiting for me to act next or observing me. My fingers quiver a little as I raise my wine glass to my lips. The wine is very smooth, almost like his charm.
He suddenly replies in a low voice, "Lois, I find it fascinating how much you try to maintain a distance." You are not the sort of person who enjoys being governed.
His words struck me like a silent charge, and for a time I can't breathe. It's as like he has seen through me in a manner no one ever has. Though I won't let him know how much they impact me, my body freezes beneath the burden of his words.
Though I know they sound empty, I say, "I'm not one for control."
Leaving the dinner, the crisp night air sharply contrasts the warmth of the place we just departed. Walking, I attempt to concentrate on the city's rush and bustle, the throngs pouring onto the streets, but all I can think about is Victor, his presence, his deliberate quiet.
Ms. Charbonneau, are you okay? Victor's voice cuts through my musings. Walking beside me, just a foot away, he seems miles ahead. Though he doesn't look at me, his words hang in the air, expectant and weighty.
"Just... fine," I answer, pushing a grin even if I had no idea what was actually happening inside me.
Arriving at the hotel, I sense a change in the atmosphere. Now there is something darker, something more weighty. Victor advances; his steps certain and assured. I go behind, but it's as though my body is no longer within my control.
Back in my room, I attempt to brush off the evening's weight, but it's difficult. I keep thinking back to his remarks, the odd tension between us. His intimacy. His seeming knowledge of things about me that no one else had.
Sitting at the desk, I take out my phone and attempt to concentrate on the screen. But then it vibrates. A number not known. Swiping to open it sends a shiver down me.
"Stay away from him."
- Writer
