His Wicked Heart (EDITING)

Chapter Thirteen

frisson
(n.) a shiver of pleasure

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PAST
ONE YEAR AGO

GENEVIEVE

Days bled into weeks, and nights had passed on a whim. Aleksandr and I were going on dates frequently. Despite my confusion about everything, including my peculiar relationship with that man, I couldn't help but feel the invisible strings that had always pulled me towards him.

But a distinct sense of mine had been poking my conscience for a few days - that Aleksandr might not be the safest choice for me. Even though I pledged not to involve myself in his life, it seemed I was sinking deeper into his world.

The event a few days ago had shaken me, erasing any doubt I had about Aleksandr's graciousness. He was anything but a gentleman - a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Though I wished he had no ulterior motives, even if he did, it might be too late. Firstly, we had been going on our so-called dates for weeks, with no pretense of hiding his affection for our time together. Secondly, his frequent visits to pick me up from the office despite my protests made it evident that he had taken a significant interest in me.

For weeks, I told myself this infatuation would fade over time, but the tightness in my chest persisted. My hope was that everything would turn out the way I imagined.

Yet, the 'what if's' remained. If, by some slim chance, things took a terrifying turn...

I couldn't become like her. I wouldn't end up like her. The thought of that memory brought bile to my throat. The memory of Maggie's words played like a broken radio as I left my office.

As always - or for the past few weeks - Alelsandr's Mercedes was parked in the garage, him standing beside it. Our eyes met. The only sounds were my heartbeat and the echo of my heels on the silent floor.

He was the same man with the same emerald green eyes, but to me, he was a new temptation every time. As I got closer, the green flame in his eyes burned hotter. Then, we stood inches apart. His lips brushed against mine slowly, and as always he smelled of cigarettes and whiskey.

"What took you so long, dorogaya?" His whisper stole my voice. He kissed my temple, and I swallowed hard. His palm brushed my hair as he looked at my face in silence, admiration in his eyes. I wondered about his thoughts but lacked the courage to ask.

What was he thinking?

"How many cars do you have?" I asked randomly, breaking the quietness. He chuckled after a moment, shaking his head slightly. "I haven't counted. But let me assure you, I have more than a few. Why do you ask?"

"You come in different cars every day." He raised an eyebrow. His mischievous smile appeared. "Maybe I'm just trying to impress someone." He says. My cheeks reddened as I bit my smile back.

"I see. Can I know who that 'someone' is?"

"Nope," he replied. His face drew closer to mine. "She's my sweet little secret." His dark whisper behind my ear filled my mind with sensual thoughts.