5. It’s not a date
1372 Words
Erica
It was Sunday and I was in my pajamas watching a serial killer documentary, trying hard to ignore the boxes that were sitting on the floor near the door and also doing a great job of not glancing at the clock every three minutes. The last time I checked it was ten minutes to eight.
When I had woken up in the morning, I had found those boxes on my dresser. I didn’t know what he was trying to do. Does he not have any understanding about personal space? But my mind refused to focus on the logical and important things like he was sending his men to my room while I was asleep. Total breaching of privacy and not to mention dangerous. I should probably tell Gabriel about this. If my sister knew that a man was breaking and leaving notes and gift wrapped boxes in my room, she would have a heart attack which could be fatal with her condition. Maybe I should talk to Brandon first—
Someone screamed on the screen, and I focused back to see the serial killer stab the housemaid in the heart. Wide eyed, I watched as he went upstairs, just then there was a knock on my door. At first I didn’t listen. The second time I chose to ignore it as the killer went down the dark hallway and opened the bedroom door of his next victim.
The third time the knock was soft and sure as if the person on the other side was losing his patience. With a disgruntled huff, I paused the video and jumped out of my bed. I walked to the door and jerked it open, then stood there gaping at the man standing in front of me. With sharp and prominent cheekbones that still could be seen through a dark stubble that marked his jaw, he looked like the darker version of Thor. Straight nose, except the slight dent in the middle. And then those eyes.... Feral, pretending to be sophisticated in his thousands of dollars suit, that stretched and fitted across his body like a second skin.
It was like I was reliving one of my dreams because how could he be here, in my dorm, knocking at my door. This wasn’t a place a man like him frequents.
“Do you know what time it is?” He asked in his accented voice, bringing me out of my reverie. His eyes with those yellow rings focused on me and made me shiver as they travelled from my bare toes to my waist to my chest, making me feel like I was standing in front of him without clothes.
I licked my dry lips and fell back into my normal go to responses for men like him. “Devil’s hour?”
His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward into my room. I didn’t back away, I should’ve, as he came to stand not a foot away from me, towering over me with those unusual eyes of his focused down on me. He said, “It’s 8 o'clock and I asked you to be ready.”
“If I remember it correctly, you didn’t ask.” I folded my arms across my chest as I stared at him. “You sent your lackey with your stupid orders.”
Ignoring me, his eyes looked behind and around the room as if searching for something then settled on the boxes on the floor. “You haven’t opened the gifts.”
“I was afraid there might be a bomb in it.”
His eyes gleamed like he was amused by my reply then he said, “Didn’t my man tell you what will happen if you aren’t ready?”
I tipped my chin up and retorted back, “Didn’t your man tell you what I think about you ordering me about?”
“I am here and I even knocked on your door.”
His reply left me stunned and I was speechless. He had come here because of what I had said to his man. For some reason it didn’t feel right. For some reason it felt like he was setting up a trap and waiting for me to fall in it. For some reason it felt like he was trying to manipulate me. But why? Why would he do that?
“Why?” I asked him.
“Why, what?”
He would make me say it, wouldn't he? Fine. “Why do you want me to go out with you?” I asked.
“You are the first person who has dared to insult me and ignored my direct orders.”
I squinted at him, letting him know what I thought about it. “And you think it’s a good reason for me to go out on a date with you?”
“It’s not a date.”
I held up a finger. “First, your interest in me for disrespecting you and ignoring your orders seems threatening and stupid. Second, if it’s not a date then why are you here?”
His reply was swift, “Because I want to know my opponent.”
I arched my brows and stared at him. “What?”
He smiled and I stiffened because it felt like he was about to jump at me and gobble me up with his sharp teeth. “Erica, my man is just outside, do you want me to have him pick you and transfer you to my car like I had implied or would you like to walk on your own two feet and come with me?”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. He was insane. How was I attracted to him in the first place? And why? Maybe I should contact my therapist again. I shook my head and a soft humorless chuckle left me, I said, “You are insane. I am not going anywhere with you.”
He levelled his gaze down at me and watched me for a whole minute before he said, “I see I have made you uncomfortable.”
I scoffed. “You think?”
He ignored my sarcasm as he continued, “I was only telling you how it was. I would genuinely like to know you, Erica. And one thing that might help my case is that I never lie.”
I checked that theory by asking him, “So tell me what do you do?”
His lips turned up in a half smile. “I am an arms dealer. Also a prominent figure in the Italian mafia. But you already knew that.” Hmm. “You can do better. Anything else?”
“Fine. Why does Brandon Carter doesn’t like you?” That made him pause and I smiled in triumph.
But after a minute he answered and I wished I hadn’t asked that question. “Because I respect his wife and admire her, which he doesn't like. He is very possessive of her.”
He is. Brandon Carter loves his wife and would kill anyone and be killed for her. But knowing that a man like Antonio Rossi admired and respected Ellison made me feel like... Inadequate. Because I knew for a fact that Ellison was one of a kind and I could never be like her. Fearless and courageous.
“Where are we going?” I questioned, collecting myself and thinking that one date with him won’t harm anyone. The fire that sparked in his eyes told me that he didn’t miss what my question meant. I was going to go out with him. I was giving in and God held me, because I think that I was the time I challenged fate and it screwed me.
“I would let you find that out on your own. It’s a surprise.”
“Fine.” I smiled at him and took a step forward. He frowned. I pressed my palm on his chest and pushed, caught unawares he stepped back. I started to shut the door when his palm pushed to keep it open, I said, “I will meet you downstairs. Wait like a gentleman, while I get ready.”
A. Gupta
- Writer
