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"Walk with me," he says when he reaches me.
I can feel eyes on me, the entire room is probably watching the show.
Neill turns. He moves around Michelle and moves towards the end of the dim lit hallway. I follow.
I watch his back and it looks magnificent in the suit jacket. His muscles are strongly defined by his entire outfit, I am hit with the urge to run my hands over his body, my tongue over his body. My breathing quickens at the thought.
Neill leads me into a different dim lit hallway, this one which has less large mahogany doors and I move with him at the right place. He stops. I stop. He opens a random door. I stare at him. His eyes seem to order me to walk in. I do.
The room is dimly lit, much like the corridor, almost covered in brown completely. It's a dinning room with open patio glass doors so that the afternoon wind is drifting through the air around us. I stare at the shiny round wooden tables, the matching wooden chairs, the white walls and large bar in the far side of the room where I notice a few couples huddled close to each other sharing drinks on bar stools.
The people here are minding their own business, they don't look up when Neill and I basically throw ourselves inside.
"Good afternoon, Sir," a cheerful waiter meets us, "do you have a reservation."
Neill, completely calm, shakes his head.
The waiter seems to kill his cheerfulness like light from a lamp. He narrows his eyes at Neill.
"Would you like to make a reservation?" The waiter asks.
"I would like a table," Neill says.
The door closes. I turn around. Neill is leaning a hand against the door. His eyes, his eyes, are boring into mine.
"Sir, we are currently fully booked tonight-" they currently have 5 empty tables near the outdoor patio- "maybe you can make a reservation for tomorrow and-"
Neill takes a few steps inside, closer to me. He fishes out a card from his jacket pocket and hands it over to the waiter, almost throwing it at his face.
I do not need to see the waiters face. He inhales loudly, starts to apologize and fusses around the room to ready a table for the wonderful fucking Neill Medici and his...? Sister's P.A?
All the while, Neill and I haven't looked away from each other.
The tension is thick, the room is suddenly too small to hold us both. I want to run and I want to move closer. I want to leave him alone and I want to hold onto him. I'm wrecked.
"Do you need me to make a phone call?"
I try but he doesn't smile.
"You shouldn't be here," he says.
"I'm sorry," I say mockingly, "did you want somebody else to follow you?"
He tilts his head to the side. He stops.
"What is it with you, Reane?"
I shrivel inside at the way he says my name. Because I am fiercer than I look, I fold my arms over my chest.
"And what have I done?"
He takes a step closer. "Should I educate you?"
The cheerful waiter comes with a large grin. He continues to apologize to Neill as he leads us to a table which overlooks the outside of the dinning room. There are lights dug deep into the ground outside and they make the large surface of the lawn outside look beautiful. I place myself in a chair next to Neill and I don't take long to settle my eyes on his mouth as he orders himself a whiskey-neat.
His mouth is firm, his eyes are serious as he addresses the waiter- I realize this is how he talks to people who he thinks have to listen to him, pay attention, do his bidding and not ask questions afterwards. I realize that this is not how he treated me the past few days. He was, in fact, being nice compared to this. We argued, the whole week, he watched me work and he made sly comments about how slow I was all the while I sat in my tub afterwards thinking that - yeah, he wanted to be in the same room as me- but no, it was not something more. I was just another worker.
"Reane," Neill snaps.
I look away from his mouth and focus on his eyes.
His mouth twitches, he looks at the waiter.
"She would like a martini," Neill tells him.
Suddenly shocked, I sit up.
"No," I snap quickly. "She would like a glass of your finest red wine."
Neill, also shocked, looks at me like I ordered his death.
"Martinis calm you down," he defends.
I push my hair away from my face and snort.
"Martinis calm you down. Red wine makes me happy."
The look in his eyes takes my breath away. It's a mixture of admiration and joy. It's some kind of shine in his eyes as if he is about to smile. I settle with the word sparkle. His eyes sparkle.
Neill basically sighs, "I didn't think you would be a challenge."
"I guess you don't only bark out words, you give compliments too," I mumble.
He moves closer and I just can't help myself. I smile.
Uncomfortable, Neill gives the waiter a curious look, the poor guy is on his way-probably wondering if he should fuck me off and just deliver a martini so he can keep his job.
I look away from Neill's eyes and lower them to his fingers which have begun to drum lightly on the table top.
"Do you like control?" He sighs.
I blink and scratch on the table. It leaves a mark.
"Depends on who it's from," I reply. "Why?"
"This world you think you know," he furrows his brows-it's fucking cute, "it's not all it seems."
I grab one of my curls and nod. "I know."
"No," he sighs, "you do not."
"So then? You brought me here to educate me on our society?"
"My society," he says and his eyes cloud.
"What about it?" I sit back.
"It's dark," he explains.
I smile, mockingly. "Why don't you switch on the light then?"
Again, no smile.
"I think you like control," he is so serious that my smile begins to fade.
A feeling settles deep inside me as I realize that he is right here yet he is out of my reach. As he looks my face over I realize the feeling begins to burn in my body, in my soul until it reaches my brain and begins to control my loins.
"I like being in it," I lie.
The feeling has a fucking name.
"No," Neill shakes his head and smirks. "I think you want to be bent over and fucked, Reane."
It's name is lust.