Page 24 of His Dark Pull
I force a smile, but my mind is already drifting, replaying the whirlwind of the past few days. Just then, the waitress arrives with our drinks, placing a frosty glass of Baileys, the ice clinking invitingly, before me.
She knows me so well.
We sit in silence for a while, both lost in our own thoughts. I sip my drink, gazing ahead into the night until the glass is empty. The heaters around us are not enough to keep me warm as I start to freeze. The waitress arrives with two glasses of mulled wine, just what I need.
Sarah leans forward, her green eyes laser-focused, and says, “Ava, honey, listen up. This is serious girl talk time.”
“Hit me with your wisdom, oh wise one,”I say, trying to keep it light, even though my stomach is churning.
Sarah points a perfectly manicured red nail at me. “One word for you: Tyler. Fletcher. Okay, technically, that’s two words, but who’s counting? The point is that the man is a golden retriever in a perfectly tailored suit. He worships the ground you walk on. Alexander? Honey, that’s a whole different animal—a panther, maybe, all sleek and dangerous. You want to cuddle with a panther? I didn’t think so. Case closed.”
“Tyler is kind,”I say, but the word feels hollow, a pale imitation of the storm that raged within me whenever Alexander is near. Maybe Sarah is right. Maybe kindness is enough for most people. But I crave something more. It is a feeling I can’t explain, a hunger that defies logic and reason.
“Thanks, Sarah,”I say, feeling tears pricking in my eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“We drain the last drops of our mulled wine, the warmth a fleeting comfort against the encroaching chill of the night air.
“Ready to head out?”Sarah suggests, pushing back her chair and rising with a graceful stretch.
I nod, the gentle buzz of the alcohol warming me from within, making the cool air feel less like a bite and more like a caress.
* * *
As I leave the pier, the warmth of Sarah’s friendship and the salty tang of the harbor air fading behind me, a prickling sensation crawls up my neck. The once bustling waterfront is now deserted, the streetlamps casting long, eerie shadows that seem to follow my every step. The feeling of being watched intensifies.
You’re being silly.
I hail a cab, eager to reach Alexander’s mansion and confront him, to demand answers to the questions that are eating me up. As the taxi pulls away from the curb, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. My eyes are clouded, just like my soul.
Does Alexander even see me for who I am anymore? I wonder. Or am I just a pawn in his game, a means to an end? Whatever end that is. The memory of his touch, the intensity of his kiss, makes an electric current dance across my nerves. Was it just physical attraction, or was there something deeper, something that could withstand the shadows that surround him?
The taxi pulls up in front of his house, a towering edifice of stone and glass that stands out. My heart pounds in my chest as I step out of the cab.
Be strong, Ava.
My eyes scan the surroundings, taking in the manicured gardens, the imposing iron gates, and the flickering gaslights that line the stairs. As I approach the entrance, I notice a man walking away from the house his head a smooth, polished dome, and his shoulders were broad as a dock worker’s. He was strangely familiar. He exchanges a curt nod with Alexander before disappearing into a waiting car, his gaze lingering on me, making me step back.
“Bye, Kovacs,”Alexander says, his voice a low rumble that echoes in the stillness of the night.
As the car pulls away, the man named Kovacs turns his head slightly, a barely perceptible nod directed towards the shadowy figure of a man leaning against a nearby lamppost. The man melts back into the darkness before I can get a good look at him.Kovacs.The name jolts my memory, connecting the dots between the note I’d seen in Alexander’s pocket, the man in the car the other night, and this figure who seems to vanish into thin air. Who is this man, and what is his connection to Alexander? Why all the secrecy? Alexander said he was a friend, but it looks like more than that, different somehow.
My thoughts are interrupted by Alexander’s voice. “Ava,”he says, his way of speaking my name sending a wave of warmth through me despite my apprehension.
I turn to face him, my heart hammering in my chest as I meet his gaze. His eyes are the color of a stormy sea.
“I’ve been expecting you,”he says, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You look stunning. Come in.”
I enter the entrance hall, its rich colors and detailed patterns telling stories of faraway lands and ancient civilizations. Plush carpets muffle the sound of our footsteps as we walk through the hall, and soft strains of classical music drift from a hidden speaker.
When did he put it on? Was he expecting me?
He leads me into the living room, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood and old books. Dozens of candles flicker in ornate silver candelabras, casting shifting shadows that play across the walls, turning the familiar portraits of stern-faced ancestors into grotesque, leering figures.
For a moment, I imagine myself curled up on the couch, Alexander’s arms wrapped around me, his warmth chasing away the chill that has settled in my bones. But I push the thought aside, reminding myself of the reason I’m here.Answers.
He takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, and leads me to the couch. “Take a seat,”he says. “I have something to show you.”
I sink into the soft cushions, my senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of his cologne. He walks over to a cabinet in the corner of the room and returns with a glass of whiskey and a leather-bound book, its cover adorned with intricate gold lettering. He places it in my lap and locks eyes with me.