Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Welcome.” He swallows and pulls away, taking my coat to the stand in the corner and hanging it with his. “I saved your favourite seat,” he says as he pulls out my stool. “And ordered your favourite drink. But only one of them.”
I get onto the stool, nodding my hello to Julio, as I pull my dirty martini close, noticing Dec’s short glass. “What’s your poison?”
He turns toward me on his stool, resting an elbow on the bar, his drink in his suspended hand, his other on his knee. “I’ve got a feeling it could be you.”
God, you’re poisonous.
My recoil is unstoppable, even if it’s not justified, because the voice catches me off guard. And today, it hurts more. “And what if it is?”
“I’ll find an antidote.” Dec sips his drink, casual, considering me carefully.
“You want to cure me?” I ask, looking down, seeing our knees nearly touching. I discreetly put more space between them, though not discreetly enough judging by Dec’s minuscule raised brow when he looks down.
“I never said that. The antidote is for me.”
“When I poison you,” I murmur.
“Will you?”
“Probably.” I lose myself in my drink, wondering what I’m doing. Or what I’m saying. Managing his expectations? Managing mine? “So tell me why you’re here early.”
“Tell me why you are.”
My shoulders drop a little. “Do you always answer questions with questions?”
“Why are you asking questions that you know the answer to? You know why I’m here. I know why you’re here. What neither of us know is why we’re here ourselves.”
“You’ve asked yourself that?”
“Have you?”
I shake my head, smiling down at my lap. “A million times.”
“Me too.”
“And you don’t know?”
“I know you’re beautiful. That can’t be missed.”
“I know you’re handsome.” That definitely can’t be missed.
“But I see many beautiful women. None of them have drawn me in like you, and it’s really messing with my head, because there’s an aura of graveness floating around you like a warning beacon.” He watches for my reaction. He doesn’t get one. “You won’t let anyone in,” he goes on. “You’re a wounded animal ready to attack anyone who dares to try and get close.”
“You dared.”
“And I really don’t want to live to regret it,” he whispers, his eyes scanning every tiny bit of my face. “But I don’t want to regret not getting too close too.”
I still for a moment, soaking in his statement, before I lower my glass to the bar. Our knees have somehow got close again, the gap between them a hair’s breadth. I don’t make space again. It’s pointless. He doesn’t want to live with regrets. I have so many regrets, they’ve buried my soul. And yet endless questions run amok in my mind, but I can’t ask any of them.
“Tell me about your day,” Dec says, killing that topic of conversation.
“It was standard.”
“What’s standard?”
“Me buried under endless files and in endless emails trying to make what seems like the impossible, possible.”
He nods, as if understanding. “Everything is possible.”
That’s not true. Happiness is impossible. “Tell me about yours.”
“I worked from home, hence the casual attire.” He motions down his jumper and jeans.
“Acquiring and merging,” I murmur. “But mostly acquiring.”
“That’s right.”
“And what did you acquire today?”
“A failing media company that’s fallen on the modern-day online sword.” His lips move with a slow purpose as he talks, his eye contact unwavering.
“And what will you do with it?”
“Sell it.”
“You’ve bought it to sell it?”
“That’s right.”
“Where do you live?”
“Central.”
“That’s broad.” He doesn’t want me to know.
Knocking back his drink, Dec pushes his glass onto the bar, an instruction for another. “Have you signed your divorce papers yet?”
“Have you found your wife yet?”
His lips roll in, his smile suppressed, and for the first time I wonder where this is going. Whatever this is. This is taking a different direction to what I’m used to.
Small talk.
Bed.
Attempted release.
Forgotten.
And yet I’ve seen Dec three times now, we’ve not fallen into bed, and we’re talking but both clearly being cautious, getting to know each other but also not.
But I feel like I know him.
The sound of my mobile ringing from my bag on the floor pulls my attention there, and I stare, in no rush to answer.
“Do you need to get that?” he asks.
“No.” I redirect my attention to him. This suits me. This distraction suits me.
He suits me.
My stranger.
* * *
An hour later, we’ve talked more about nothing, shared many fleeting looks, and many long, lingering, heated gazes too. I know sexual chemistry when I feel it, it’s different to simply being horny. I’ve never looked at any of the endless men I’ve slept with and paused a beat to admire them. Never wondered what they do, who they are, where they’ve come from. I need to rein in this wondering. Keep this clean. Am I a complete idiot?
Dec looks down at his watch. “I have to go,” he says, sounding regretful. “I’ll walk you home.” He gets down from the stool and fetches our coats, while I check the time. It’s not even seven. Too early for me to go home, plus I left the office without any files so there’s nothing to keep me busy if I do go home now. I look around the bar instinctively, and when I realise what I’m doing, I pull myself up on it, finding Dec as he holds my coat up for me.