The Sinners We Love |18+

[13] acid green

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acid green: bitter taste

Lately, I had been uncertain about everything.

Was anything absolute after all? Motion was relative and so were all the stories, all the points of view. A biased line of a story. People said what they wanted us to see. Filtered. And full of plot holes.

You would seek the truth, if only you were careful enough to read in between the lines.

Maybe it was some silly fight that broke out. A silly one that could have taken away my silly life. Maybe small criminal organizations were truly prevalent. But everything felt inadequate. Luca was not going to address the inadequacy, I knew that. He seemed to be interested in purchasing an altarpiece, disinterested that some people had lost their lives. I had redirected him to Emma who was responsible for all the procedures and transactions. I didn't get enough time to prod some more before a line of phone calls invaded the silence in the car. When the vehicle swerved around the office premises, Luca got off the car in front of the entrance gate.

Piero was kind enough to guide me inside the colossal office building. Ferrero Stabilimento had a recurring theme of luxury. The reception was a block of dark box brightly lit against the obsidian marble, and crisp conditioned air. Piero informed me the meeting would start after an hour, and brought me to the bar room. "You can wait here." He had said, as my wandering gaze observed the golden and onyx cellar.

I seated myself on one of the bar stools, squinting my eyes to read the labels on the bottles when a man tending the bar asked me if I wanted something. I thought for a bit, and asked for a glass of water. The counter was crystal mirror that reflected the gold and black of the cellar and my own tired reflection looked back at me. My fingers touched my beating pulse, as I rubbed on it, a habit to calm myself. A stool was removed beside, and I realized someone took a seat right beside. My gaze concentrated on the reflection of my tired eyes, when suffocating wafts of smoke— like burnt plastic and excessive cologne made my breathing shallow.

I snapped my head to my left. A man sat, like a wall of muscle, draped in all black and formal, that separated me from the rest of the world. He drew a deep breath in, while I choked in the scented air. Eyes closed, he placed his glass on the crystal with a loud thud, a sloppy smirk curling the side of his lips. His fingers wrapped in a smooth leather of black gloves. That looked odd.

A sudden rush of discomfort overwhelmed my senses, and the man behind the counter brought my glass of water. My fingers hesitant and stiff reached for it, my eyes raking back to the silent man beside. His neck a canvas of art, leathered fingers tapped on the crystal counter, three times, before ceasing their action.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice came. His voice came and my fingers curled away. His fingers motioned in the air, still withholding his gaze. "All these," The man continued and I looked ahead of us, the gigantic cellar. "the gold and the black, which one do you see more?"

The man shifted. Startled, I shifted in my seat as well. He faced me, and it sent a jolt of fear. His gaze was wicked. Genocidal. Nothing about it was nice. It was plain dark and scheming. And I did not want his gaze on me, at all. Ink ran till the side of his ears, lips pierced, heinous aura. I put my feet down, tugging on the strap of my bag, when another feet came, restricting me to get up. "You did not answer me, principessa." His tongue rolled, and a familiar hint of accent bounced inside my ears.

"I don't know what you asked."

"I asked, which one do you see more— the golden or the black?" His words made my head cock to the side, noticing how the golden layered the pitch black. How beautifully the liquor sheltered themselves amongst them.