I felt the hair on my skin stand at the sound of the voice. Deep, husky and rich. For a moment I couldn't move. I felt it. I knew I stopped breathing. But still, somehow, my heart kept beating, rapidly. I felt him behind me, tall and still, like a storm waiting to be called.
Slowly, I got control of my nerves, my body and turned towards him. I wanted to shut my eyes to whatever I was about to see. I wanted to let the glass slip from my hand into the ground and watch it crash and shatter. Like some sort of distraction, so I could escape, so I could run away from him.
Was this how it felt to be around him up close? I was terrified.
He was dressed in all black. A silk like shirt with the top unbuttoned just enough to know it was deliberate and a dark suit that fit him too perfectly. His face was sharp and looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. High cheekbones, strong jaw and full lips. A corner of it curving up into a half smirk.
He knew. He knew what his presence had done to me. His eyes trailed over my dress before coming back up to my face. "Not so dedicated now, are we?" he murmured, his voice pitched so low only I could hear it. The people around us remained in motion, glassware clinking, music humming faintly in the background. Yet none of them looked at us. Not one.
That snapped me out of whatever trance I was in and I opened my mouth to speak. "I'm not afraid of you." I seethed as I made eye contact with him, willing myself with every fibre of my being to not back down and give him what he wants.
"No?" He placed a foot in front of the other as he moved towards me and rested his hands on the counter behind, caging me.
My jaw clenched as I forced myself not to lean away from him. I tipped my head higher to not give him the satisfaction he badly wanted. I felt a slight pain in my temple and squinted my eyes a bit. I was developing a headache, what else ? Insomnia from just speaking with him? With the Maestro? Who was I kidding? I'd be lucky to have my head in place after this conversation.
He was so close to me now. The people around us, the bartender, were all acting oblivious to what was going on. It felt like we were alone in an alternate dimension. The Maestro stayed silent watching me, like I was some puzzle and he was trying to make sense of it. "You can step away now." My voice came out as a husky whisper. Trust my body to betray me in times of trouble.
"What if I don't want to, officer?" His warm breath tickled down my skin, his eyes never leaving mine.
I pressed my lips into a thin line and looked away, letting my hair fall between us like a curtain. My legs wobbled a bit at the intensity of being close to him. It was probably the adrenaline flowing through me at the penthouse when I first encountered him, that's why it didn't feel like I was facing a dragon and was minutes away to being burnt to crisp. I heard him chuckle and the presence of him in front of me left.
He slid onto the barstool beside me, leaving barely an inch between us. I felt the warmth of him before I even looked his way. My heart slammed painfully within my chest. "You don't look like you belong here," he said, glancing at me. "But that dress does a great job at lying."
I shifted on the stool, trying to ground myself. “And you?” I asked without looking at him. “You always sneak up behind women like that?”
"Only the ones who stalk me first." He murmured.
The bartender suddenly appeared and placed two fresh drinks on the bar, like he had been told before hand. "But we didn't order any drinks." I stuttered as I manage to find the right words that won't make me seem stupid.
"You didn't." The bartender said, sparing a glance at the man beside me and moving away quickly.
The Maestro pushed one towards me, his fingers brushing mine. It was subtle, but enough to send a tingling heat up my arm. I stiffened, clenching my jaw so tight, I was half afraid I'd break a tooth. "You know who I am." I said, not bothering to ask for it. It wasn't a question.
"Ofcourse," he said, tilting his glass towards mine. "The detective who can't let go."
I didn't let the glass clank with him. I didn't toast. He drank anyway. At one corner of the bar, on a stool besides the counter at the farthest edge, I saw a stripper rub her body against a man. He looked to be in his thirties, with the white silver of hair being the highlight of his features. The female in front of him wore a red lingerie, its thin straps barely able to hold her tits in place.
"You seem a little distracted, my detective." I knew he was smirking before I tilted my neck to glance at him.
He turned to face me fully, one elbow resting on the counter, his knee brushing mine beneath the counter. His gaze moved to my lips, then to my throat. Slowly, lazily. "What do you want, officer?" He asked, his voice dipping lower. "Justice? Or something darker?" He tilted his head, studying me. "You never told me your name."
I didn't answer.
He leaned in closer, his breath ghosted my skin, warm and dangerous. His fingers lifted slowly, just a touch and brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. I forgot how to breathe for the second time this night. His fingertips lingered at my temple, the stroke so gentle, it felt like a threat. I hated how my body betrayed me, how it responded. "That's what I thought." He whispered.
I jerked back a little, but not enough. "What's your next move? The Black Rose's next move?" I made sure to lower my voice at the last question.
The Maestro gave a lazy shrug, eyes never leaving mine, "You think I'd tell you that?"
"You're not untouchable."
"Neither are you."
The silence between us stretched, thick with heat and something unspoken. His fingers reached for my wrist next, brushing lightly against the inside, like he was feeling for my pulse. I yanked my hand away and glared at him.
"Fast," he murmured against the glass he had near his lips. "You're nervous."
"I'm pissed."
"No," he said with a slow smirk. "You're curious and... that's worse." He leaned in again, so close his lips almost grazed my ear. "Again I ask Jude, why are you so diligent, so fierce and dedicated in your chase? What do you want so bad, you damn yourself?"
My stomach flipped at the sound of my name. I was aware he knew who I was. He had connections all over and was interested in knowing who I was. In a completely different situation, I'd be flattered. Now, I just felt dread all over.
I've really overstepped this time.
I drew in a breath, steadying myself, choosing the words with care, "I want everything to burn to the ground." Like my world had.
He hummed, tracing his thumb along the rim of the glass he held in his hand. "You forgot to add me to the list."
I hated him. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to make him cry out in pain as I stabbed him multiple times till he hunched over. "You're so sure of yourself."
"No, I'm sure of you."
The head of the Black Rose leaned back slightly, studying my face. He wasn't smiling now. The look in his eyes was darker, something edged with restraint, like he was holding himself back from something. He raked his fingers through his jet black hair and whispered, "Run, detective. While you still know how to."
Image belongs to me.
Thanks for reading;)
