Seductive Truths (Seductive Trilogy) (15 page)

    
‘
Spit it out!
’
he roars.

     Quaking with fear, my eyes start to dart around the room, looking at anything but him. 
‘
I…I wanted to…
’
I try to begin again with little success. 
‘
I wanted to…needed to…
’
 

     Giving up I squeeze my eyes shut and take a couple of deep breaths to compose myself.  I hate this feeling of not knowing.  I hate these obscure emotions that seem to take over. 

     Gathering all my bravado I peel my eyes open to face the oncoming onslaught, but get the shock of my life as I find him stealthily positioned the other side of the desk.  His eyes are slits of pure rage turning them a vibrant blue. 

     Startled, I unconsciously take a step back.  Not once do his eyes stray.  The electricity passing between the two of us would be enough to light up the whole of London.  The strength I gathered to speak disperses in an instant.  Instead I’m left rooted to the spot watching his every move.

     I feel myself being drawn into his intense gaze.  They are like the raging sea, crashing back and forth carrying a range of emotions.  The longer I stare the further I drown.  I may not be moving but I can feel him pulling me under, but under what
,
is the question.

     Our connection breaks when he moves around the desk.  Like a male lion surveying his territory, he glides effortlessly towards his property and checks the damage.  He crouches down in front of me and delicately, more delicately than I thought him capable of, inspects the
splintered
wood.  He then leans forward and picks up the discarded letter opener placing it back in its rightful place before sharply turning around to face me, and just like that, I’m under his spell.

    
God help me.  His eyes are…his eyes are; well, just something else, something unique and individual. 

    
The intensity of it all
causes my cheeks to burn, my stomach to tremble with uncontrolled lust and a scalding desire for him to rip me bare of my clothes and take me here and now, right over his desk.  His pupils are like two black coals steaming red-hot energy into the atmosphere, melting me in place.

     Looking beyond I see a knowing glitter of something in the pigment of his eyes, like he instinctively understands what’s currently running through my brain.  It’s unnerving.  The connection’s unbreakable.  Unbreakable until he turns sharply to retrieve his gun.

    
‘
Come,
’
he says shoving the dangerous weapon into the back of his trousers then
making
his way into the other room.  I numbly follow.

     On the coffee table stands two tumblers filled with amber liquor.  The enticing substance calls out to me, tempting me to gulp the contents down my throat with no consideration to its fine taste, anything to squelch the burning sensation gurgling in the pit on my stomach.

     Tentatively I sit down on the edge of the leather sofa after watching Gareth do the same.  Reaching out, I quickly snap up the drink and down it in one.  Before I have chance to place it back it’s refilled.  This time I
savour
the drink, only taking casual sips to calm my nerves. 

     Hmmm, quality stuff this.

     It’s a produce to be cherished in its refinement, not something you just knock back without a care in the world. 

     I’m getting a rich, sweet, woody, full-bodied, almost fruity flavour accompanied by an oaky, with a hint of toasted nuts aroma and if I’m not careful, shortly I’ll be getting pissed.  With lack of food the drink is going straight to my head.

     I was never a huge whiskey drinker, but being around Gareth, maybe it’s the constant linger of the stuff, I don’t know, but I find myself becoming more and more fond of the spirit.

    
‘
You hungry?
’
he asks. 

     I mumble an affirmative.

     Gareth stealthily disappears off into the kitchen, but a second later he returns with a packet of crisps in hand.  He chucks the item into my lap. 

    
‘
Sorry. That’s all I have.  Don’t tend to stock much.  More of an
“
eat out
”
type of man,
’
he adds. 

     My stomach growls but I make no attempt to open the packet of crisps. 

     Time goes by in the stillness of the room with nothing but the sound of a clock ticking down the seconds.  Every minute is another moment of my life being wasted away. 

     Then a movement to my right captures my interest.  Gareth rearranges himself, body turned in my direction with his arm resting along the back of the sofa, his hand inches away from my shoulder.

     Unnerved I go to take a sip of my drink when his voice cuts through the silence.

    
‘
Why did you break into my drawer?
’

     My heart skips a beat and I find it difficult to swallow the whiskey on my tongue.  I fidget in my seat as nerves begin to set in. 

    
What am I to say?  Do I go with the truth and risk angering him or tell a fib in hope he will believe me and won’t roar the place down?  Either way, I don’t think it will have a positive outcome.  Truth it is then.

    
‘
I was…I wanted to find out more about you,
’
I say into the glass, afraid to see the look in his eyes.

     I hold my breath in anticipation of his biting anger, but instead receive a heavy sigh filled with frustration and exhaustion.  Gradually I turn my head to gauge his expression.

     Staring into his whiskey, sad look in his eyes, slightly hunched posture and rumpled clothing, he is every bit a defeated man.  The strength he once held disperses in an instant.  A part of me wants to reach out and cradle him in my arms, soothe him back to the man he once was, whoever that may have been, but all I do is stare, waiting for him to do something, anything.

     He leans forward to refill his glass and I notice the glistening object lying on the table.  My eyes grow wide at the horrific sight.  Gareth carries on as if it weren’t there.  Turning his attention back to me he catches the frantic look on my face.

    
‘
You’ve never seen a gun before?
’

     I shake my head numbly, my eyes never once straying.

    
‘
Movies yes, but not in reality.
’

    
‘
I thought you would have considering…
’
he trails off.

     I see nothing but that firearm.  Even as Gareth goes to pick it up, the item fitting comfortably in his hand, my eyes remain transfixed.  It isn’t until he shoves it towards me saying,
‘
Want a hold?
’
do I react by leaping out of my seat, sloshing some whiskey over the side.

     My heart is pumping exceedingly fast.  It is out of control and I’m quivering like a nervous wreck.  I feel feverish, breathing becomes irregular and I open my mouth a bit to try and gain as much oxygen as I can. 

     Slowly replacing the gun back onto the table, Gareth begins to approach me, as one would do when trying to calm down a scared animal.

    
‘
It’s okay; I’m not going to hurt you.  I have no intention to do anything of the sort.  Please.  Come sit back down.
’
 

     I hear every word but take no notice of his whereabouts, too focused on the glittering object lying innocently on the wooden table.  It’s not until he touches my arm, causing me to startle, do I realise he is right in front of me.

     With ease and little effort he manages to steer me back to the sofa.  Turning my eyes away from the daunting presence in the room and taking a sip of my whiskey, I steadily regain my equilibrium.

    
‘
Have…
’
I take another sip. 
‘
Have you… Have you ever…
’
Taking a deep breath I go to look in his eyes and ask,
‘
Have you ever hurt anyone?
’

     So many emotions cloud his crystal blue irises as he picks up his drink, gulps the rest back, refills then turns to face
me
with his penetrating stare.  There is nothing but a black hole remaining.

    
‘
Yes,
’
he replies as blunt and emotionless as ever.

    
‘
Have you…have you killed anyone?
’

    
‘
Yes.
’
 

     Heart stills for a microsecond.

    
‘
Who?
’
I can’t help myself replying. 
Why would you want to know Alex?  For Christ sakes woman!

    
‘
If I told you that, I’m afraid I’d have to kill you,
’
he chuckles.  However there’s an underlining of menace.  His words may have been said in jest, but deep down I know he’s capable of such an act and it terrifies me.  I can see it in his eyes as they grow dark and
his
face shadowed. 

     An uncomfortable quietness settles.  I go to take another sip but find the glass empty, so instead place it onto the table and begin twiddling my thumbs, a habit of mine whenever I find myself in an awkward situation. 

    
‘
Are you a hit man?
’
bursts from my mouth. 

    
What in devil’s name are you doing Alex?  You can’t seriously be thinking on continuing questioning him?

      But once my mind starts flowing so do the questions.

    
‘
No.
’

    
‘
Are you a spy?
’

    
‘
No.
’

    
‘
Are you a policeman?
’

    
‘
No,
’
he viciously spits, as if the very idea of being a copper repulses him.

     I pause momentarily to regain my thoughts, but it is not long before I branch off down another path of questioning, trying in vain to delve that little bit deeper to find out truth behind this man.

    
‘
Do you have a wife?
’

    
‘
No.
’

    
‘
Kids?
’

    
‘
Not anymore.
’
  The veil falls across his face.

    
‘
What happened?
’

     He turns his head away. 

    
‘
Gareth?
’
and I lay my hand on top of his but he quickly withdraws.

    
What’s hurting you Gareth, I wish you could tell me.

    
‘
Girlfriend?
’

     His eyes are lost in thought.  He is beginning to clam up.  Just when I think I am getting somewhere the tables are turned and I find myself back to square one.  All I want if for him to look at me.

    
Fine, maybe this will get a reaction out of him.

    
‘
Are you gay?
’

     He sharply turns and pierces me with his intense stare,
‘
Hell no!
’

    
That’s more like it!

    
‘
You have any other brothers or sisters apart from Mark?
’

    
‘
No.
’

    
‘
Parents?
’

    
‘
Dead.
’

    
‘
Friends?
’

    
‘
Worthless.
’

    
‘
Why am I here?
’

     The steady flow of questions and then answers ceases and I’m left with silence along with an unsettling feeling in my gut as he continues to stare at me in that way.  What are his eyes trying to tell me?  What is he hiding?

    
‘
Do you hate me?
’