Masked

CHAPTER 2 DECEIVER

“It would be a pleasure to help you ma’am.” I replied as she asked me for help. From the expression she made, I knew she hated asking for help. But who cares? I wanted her to fall for my trap and she did. This would be her last time she asked someone for help. This would be the last time she ever stepped foot in a car. This would be the last time she breathes.

She followed me to my car. A deer walking in a lion's den. I opened the door for her as a gentleman I was pretending to be. She nodded and sat in the car. I took the driver’s sweat and started driving.

“Please enter your address here ma’am. ” I asked her. Even though I knew where she lived. I knew everything about her. From her address to the brand of toothpaste she used. She did without saying anything else. I started driving according to the instructions. My plan was crystal clear in my mind.

“Can you please stop here for a minute?” She asked. Her voice had calmed down. She sounded rather sad. I stopped when she said. It was a flower shop. Did Alina Alonso like buying flowers for herself? She went out and bought two bouquets of flowers.

“There’s a cemetery a few miles from here. Can you please stop there?” She asked. I nodded. She was ruining my plan. The cemetery came and I stopped in front of the gate.

We both got out. “Isn’t it too late to visit a cemetery?” I asked her.

“Why? Are you scared of ghosts?”

“No but– just asking.” She rolled her eyes and started walking inside. She would pay for that action. No one rolls their eyes at me. They are too scared to do so. She walked and I followed her. In front of two graves, she kept the bouquets of flowers she had bought. But she didn’t kneel or pray, she simply kept them and started walking out. I was confused. It was dark so I couldn't read the names of people written on the grave. I followed her again.

“What was that?” I asked her.

“What?”

“You just placed the flowers.”

“Yeah so?”

“Weren’t you supposed to pray or something?”

“Why would I pray at a stranger's grave?” She was confusing me more.

“But then why would you keep the bouquets on strangers’ graves?” I asked again.

She sighed and looked in my direction. We were standing at the gate of the cemetery.

“Listen, I have my personal reasons. That I am not willing to explain to you. So now will you please drop me off at my home? I want to be alone.” She said and sat in the car. I did the same.

Without any further questions, I started driving. After a few minutes, from the corner of my eyes, I saw her shoulders shaking. Was she crying?

“Are you okay ma’am?” I asked her, without looking at her.

“Yes.” She replied. Her voice sounded foggy. She was definitely crying. I was not a gentleman, but I sure as hell wasn’t a bastard who would let a woman cry in his car and say nothing.

“Ma’am, I know I am a stranger to you who looks like is trying to please you to fulfil an ulterior motive, that I truly am not trying, I am a very good listener. Also, the chances of us meeting again are probably zero. So if you want to share something, I am all ears. Sometimes, telling a stranger your secret is better than telling it to a person we know, because the stranger doesn't know your whole story and is most likely to judge you on only its basis. But someone you know might judge you all your life because of that one situation.” I tried to comfort her with my words. I stopped the car a few miles from her apartment in front of a park. She looked at me. Her nose was red from crying. Tears kept flowing without any break. Her mascara was all over her face. But still, somehow, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my whole life. For once, my hatred for her went away. I could not see a woman who was my enemy, I only saw a gorgeous woman, crying in front of me for some unknown reason that I didn't know.

I wanted to comfort her, I wanted to hug her. I almost wiped her tears off. She saw my hand hanging mid air. She walked out of the car and went inside the park. I followed her. We sat on a park bench. It was late, so no one was there.

“Today is my parents’ death anniversary.” She said so quietly that I had to lean over to listen to her. “It's been years since they died, but the hurt still feels raw. My parent’s grave is in Greenport. For years, I have been trying to go there and visit their grave, but I’m too scared to do so. I think I really am a coward. So to ease the guilt, every year, I offer flowers to some strangers' graves.” I felt sad for her. Unintentionally and surprisingly, I kept my hand over her shoulder. She was still wearing my blazer. I didn’t intend to do it, it was as if my body knew better than my mind how to react. More surprisingly, she didn’t react in abad way. Rather, she leaned over my shoulder. She wasn’t crying anymore. Her breathing had calmed down.

“How pathetic of me to cry in front of an employee who works in my rivals’ company.” She said with a humourless laugh.

“You are not pathetic. You are the strongest woman in the world.” I told her. She looked at me, still leaning over my shoulder.

“What makes you think that?” She asked.

“Who would be able to attend such a big party, would accept an award on such a grieving day without breaking down in front of the people? You did that. You are not a coward.” She smiled at me words.

“You are a good person Mr Rutherfort, If you keep being a gentleman, I would really think you want something from me.” She said with humour. We both chuckled. She got up from my shoulder and composed herself.

“I look like a mess, right?” She asked, wiping her face with her hands. I handed her my handkerchief.

“You do. But more like a beautiful mess.” I said. She looked at me again with those hazel eyes. She blinked a few times before looking away, her long eyelashes kissing her skin.

“There’s some more.” Her makeup was all over her face. She tried wiping it but wasn’t able to. I inched closer to her face and wiped it with my fingers. For a moment, the world stopped, but like in movies. We looked at each other. Our breaths synchronized. I wiped her lipstick off her lips. Her skin was soft but those rosy lips were softer. I wondered what they tasted like. Strawberries? Or maybe apples? She licked her lips after I had touched them with my thumb. It was enough for me to bring my fantasies alive. I inched closer and grazed her lips with mine. She inched back. I looked away but she was still looking at me. Maybe I made a mistake, a mistake I should have regretted but I didn’t. When I looked at her again, she moved closer to my face and kissed me hard. She looked at each other again. There was some magnetic force that kept pulling us towards each other. This time when our lips touched, it was not something gentle. It was painful but sweet. She didn’t taste like strawberries or apples. She tasted like blueberries, sweet, floral, woody, drying and musky with a touch of soft acidity. My hands were on her waist, pulling her closer. Hers were on my face, pulling me closer to her. Our tongues weren’t just kissing, but they were dancing on beats, in perfect harmony. We broke our kiss and caught our breaths. We both knew we wanted more. The question was, were we willing to accept it?

“I think you should drop me off now.” She said, looking away from me.

“Yes. It’s getting late.”

I drove us to her apartment. The air in the car turned to awkwardness.

“Thanks for dropping me.’ She said when we reached her building.

“Welcome.” I said, without looking at her. I knew she was looking at me, but if i looked at her one more time, i knew i wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Bye.” She said and got out of the car. I saw her walking in. When she was out of my sight, I drove myself home with disappointment for not executing my plan, but with some strange sense of happiness and tingling in my nerves.