After hours of questioning, the police finally left, leaving me drowning in the silence of the duplex. The place felt empty, cold, and devoid of any liveliness that had once ensued during dusk; the time when we gathered around the dining room for dinner. Our interactions were warm and rich in conversation, a stark contrast to the silence that now dominated the whole place.
I sauntered past the dining room; the emptiness seemed to expand, swallowing me whole. I wandered around the living room, tracing the outline of the vacant couch.
I sighed, clutching my phone in my hand. I would often glance at the time and watch how the hours ticked by with no sign of Mr. Clinton.
“After telling him to come back early, yet he’s still out there…” I mumbled, averting my eyes from the screen. I let out a sigh in frustration and made my way to the veranda, a cool, serene place for relaxation-Mr. Clinton’s second favorite spot, and it was soon turning into mine as well.
Looking at the glamorous view of the city skyline, I exhaled, letting the cool air whoosh away all my worries. I couldn’t stop thinking about what played out this morning, the sudden shift from tranquility to chaos, the life-threatening issue that had me swirling with fear. It was just too overwhelming for me. I wanted this turbulence to end as soon as possible, and that would happen when Erin was brought to justice.
Pulling out of my thoughts, I checked my phone for what seemed like the hundredth time, willing Mr. Clinton’s name to appear, hoping it would ease the loneliness that had settled in.
The silence seemed to grow thicker with each passing minute, my anticipation building for his return.
Just then, the reverberating sound of footsteps snapped me back to the present, and I immediately turned around.
I chuckled softly, leaning on the rails as I watched him approach. His presence filled the room, his eyes scanning the whole space.
When his gaze met mine, he flashed me a wry smile, his eyebrow raised incredulously.
“Haven’t gone to sleep yet? It’s almost midnight,” he said, his voice low and soothing as he settled into the veranda’s cushioned chair.
I crossed my arms, my eyes flashing with feigned displeasure. “You’re late, Mister. How could you leave a young girl all alone at this hour?” My voice trembled. “What if something…”
“Bad happens…” He took the words straight out of my mouth, his gaze skeptical. “Are you… scared?”
I exhaled deeply, my shoulders relaxing slightly as I avoided eye contact. “No, I’m not. I was just letting out my frustration,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper.
I strode to the couch and slumped down beside him. His gaze never left mine as he shifted closer to me. “It seems you are more than frustrated.” He chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
That small gesture of comfort sent flutters all over my chest, a thin smile curving up my lips as I leaned on him. I let out sigh after sigh for what felt like the thousandth time that day. “Yeah, you’re right; I am more than frustrated…” I admitted, nesting deeper in his embrace.
His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer with equal fervor. My shoulders swayed, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into mine.
“Tell me how I can make you feel better,” he whispered close to my ear, his breath tickling my skin.
A wide smile spread across my face as I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. Biting my lips, my eyes narrowed into a slit, ambiguously relaying my reply.
He immediately understood my hint and chuckled, his gaze never faltering from mine. “You misinterpreted what I just said.”
I pushed myself up, encircling my arms around his neck, my forehead touching his as I spared no space between us. “I want a kiss, or maybe… more than that,” I whispered, my voice low and seductive. My mood had changed after that small gesture of his.
Our lips hovered just short of locking into each other, but he pulled me back at the last second, using his position as an advantage. “I doubt a small kiss will satisfy you,” he whispered back, his chest tantalizingly pressed against my bosom, anticipation slowly bubbling inside me.
“You know me too well, Mr. Clinton,” I replied with a sly smile, attempting to push myself further again, but he took the initiative and planted a small peck on my lips instead.
What the fuck!
I pulled away, my brow furrowing as I flashed him a look of disapproval. “Seriously, now you want to tease me?” I crossed my arms, a hint of annoyance in my voice. “We are way past that French kiss; in fact, even the deep kisses won’t suffice…” I paused after the words tumbled out. “Oh, oh.” I pursed my lips, having blurted out my thoughts.
He stared at me with a blank expression, clearly intrigued by my subtle confession. “So what will suffice, since the kisses didn’t meet your needs?” He clipped his gaze, now piercing like a sharp blaze.
I stuttered for words to respond before finally coming up with a plain reply. “Y… you understand what I mean…” I said, my cheeks growing hotter by the second as his eyes never left mine.
He looked away, his expression turning serious. “You are giving me the green light, aren’t you? The mixed signals,” he remarked before turning to face the night-dark view. “You and I know this thing going on between us might end… badly, you know that, right?”
“I don’t understand that language,” I denied almost immediately and waved, brushing off the inevitable truth in his words. I knew what he meant by that; I just couldn’t bring myself to accept the fact. Our casual and fleeting moments of passion had no depth; there was nothing I wanted more than for us to take our relationship to the next level.
His soft chuckle snapped my attention back. Still staring at the open view from the veranda, he replied, his voice flat, “You will soon understand the language you just denied. We both know what will follow if I give in.”
I chuckled in disbelief, my eyes narrowing as I pulled closer to get a close view of his face. “I don’t get you… you still won’t allow yourself to love me. You don’t seem straightforward with your feelings.” I spat, my voice sharp and direct.
He glanced at me, his expression blank, devoid of any emotions. “I know I might not be straightforward now, but I will be by the end of that little deal of ours.” He said then flashed me a brief fake smile before looking away.
I turned speechless, slumping my back into the couch in defeat. Usually, I would object, but I had used all my persuasion for the past few days, trying to get him to accept his feelings.
Not wanting to push further so I wouldn’t sound like a pest, I decided to end the particular conversation with just a simple few words. “Here’s what you should remember, Mr. Clinton: our deal might end in a few months, but my feelings won’t, and neither will yours.”
With that said, I sprang up from the couch, flashing him a brief smile before retiring to my room.