Arsen: a broken love story, стр. 7

Big trouble.

William Shakespeare said that the eyes are the windows to your soul. When our eyes connect, I see danger, and maybe something exciting. Something forbidden. Some basic instinct in me instantly recognizes that this man doesn’t make love to a woman.

He fucks her.

As I’m locked in his gaze, I am suddenly gripped by this feeling threatening to choke the air out of my lungs. A premonition or an omen, this feeling is shouting in my head, telling me to run and hide, to never turn back. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I just blink. My hand goes to my chest as I start to rub the area surrounding my heart.

He is danger.

My head is shouting to get away, and my heart is yelling danger, but my body isn’t letting me move. All I can do is watch as he makes his way down the stairs of the jet towards me. His grin has grown from lazy and crooked to a full-blown kilowatt-powerful smile.

His smile is electrifying.

His smile frightens me.

His smile hypnotizes me.

Shaking my head, I break my gaze from his hypnotic one. Get a grip, girl. Stop thinking about silly omens and wicked eyes. You need to listen to Amy and get laid. Like, as soon as you walk into your house, you better jump Ben.

Putting my best smile on, I clear my throat as I step forward. “Hi, my name is Cathy Stanwood. Nice to meet you.”

On our drive back to the city, my cheeks are still tingling from where his lips touched my skin. I was definitely not expecting him to ignore my handshake and plant two of the most electrifying kisses I’d ever received on each side of my face. I felt my cheeks flush as I clumsily took two steps back, extending my hand for a now useless handshake. He must have seen how affected I was by the close contact, because out came that stupid lazy smile of his that seemed to be doing stuff to my lady parts, my very married lady parts, as he took my hand in his own very large one.

Shaking hands, I noticed the unique and exotic color of his eyes. They were a pure aqua blue. Beautiful. I also noticed how they slowly perused my body, sending a shiver so strong running through my spine it made me tremble. He seemed to like what he saw because as his eyes covered more areas of my body, his smile grew wider. When his eyes finally landed on mine, and he realized that I had been watching him the entire time, he winked at me.

He smiled again. “Nice meeting you, Cathy.”

That smile should be illegal.

“I’m Arsen,” he said, still shaking hands.

“Arson?” I repeated. “Like, Fire-raising Arson?”

“No, Arsen with an E instead of an O, but very close,” he said, his eyes shining bright.

It’s funny that his name reminded me of fire because he certainly looked like someone who could burn you to the ground. With just one look, he made me feel as if my body was burning scarlet. The clearing of a throat breaks me away from my trance. “Miss Stanwood...Cathy…”

Shit, I hope I haven’t missed much of the conversation. Turning towards his voice, I see Arsen sitting on the leather seat with his legs spread apart. As he sips his water, his gaze lingers on my mouth for a moment longer than necessary.

“Cathy, my mother was wondering whether you happen to know if Amy has seen to the buying of that property in Purchase or not?”

“Yes, we closed two weeks ago. I’ve met and interviewed a couple of interior designers who—”

I’m cut off by Victoria Radcliff. Yes, Mrs. Stepford wife has a name.

“Oh, There’s no need for an interior designer. I only use Charles.” When she turns to look at her son, I am struck by how much they look alike. All American blonde perfection.

My phone rings, breaking my perusal of perfection.

“I’m sorry. I should probably take this phone call. It must be Amy making sure you arrived safely.”

Victoria shrugs her shoulders and continues talking to her son as if I don’t exist. Turning my body to the side so that I can give them and myself some privacy, I take the call.

“Cathy Stanwood.”

“Babe, it’s me. I know you’re working, but I just got called into the office…emergency meeting. I’ll probably be working all night long, so I don’t think I’ll be back until you’re in bed and already asleep.”

I can feel eyes on me. Suspecting Victoria is watching me because I’m interrupting her conversation with her son, I lower my voice.

“Okay…”

Ben must sense that I shouldn’t be on the phone because he chuckles. “I’m probably getting you in trouble with this call. Tell them to go to hell. I’m talking to my woman.”

“Ben…”

“Alright, babe. I just wanted to wish you a good night. And to let you know not to wait up for me. I love you.”

He waits on the line for a second longer, probably expecting me to tell him that I love him back, but I can’t. I don’t know why. Sighing into the speaker I only say, “Night.”

Wait. That’s not fair.

I’m about to say something more meaningful to Ben when I hear him release a deep breath and end the call.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Why do I always behave like such a bitch to him when he’s just trying to be sweet?

Frustrated with myself, I put my phone away and lift my eyes, expecting Victoria to be shooting daggers at me. She’s not, though. She’s looking out the window. Instead, my eyes connect with aqua ones.

It has been Arsen watching me all this time.

Arsen is making me very uncomfortable. He keeps watching my every move, and it’s unnerving. I don’t know why. He is much younger than I am, and I usually don’t cower in front of men, not even when they are as drop dead gorgeous as the man sitting next to me.

I’m used to some of them watching me and flirting with me, but I’m never made uneasy by just a simple stare.

Not like this.

Not ever.

And, I never squirm in my seat, not even when Ben is trying to be funny and kinky at the same time. But this guy is seriously getting to me. The intensity in his gaze feels as if it’s burning a hole through me.

I break our staring contest and reach for my glass of Pinot Noir. For a moment, I get lost in the taste of the wine, tasting its fruity flavors mixed in with warm spice and earthy undertones. Letting the delicious wine roll around in my mouth, seeping into the taste buds of my tongue, I avoid looking at the man sitting to my left and the woman sitting right across the table from me. Instead, I let my eyes wander around the restaurant that Arsen picked instead of going to the Ritz. Homme. It’s the “it” restaurant in New York City at the moment. Zagat, the New York Times, and The New Yorker all swear by it. I’m surprised they let us in without a reservation because I’ve heard that the wait list is currently one month in advance.

I guess I shouldn’t be though. Arsen seems to know a lot of the people here tonight, and so does Mrs. Radcliff. Looking around, I take in the very upscale and expensive decor. It’s all white and glass. The light fixtures are a mix between classic designs of sparkly clear crystal and large modern Swedish-looking orbs of white, opaque bulbs. Aesthetically it is beautiful and very zen. On the other hand, the music is loud and very Ibiza. The juxtaposition of the techno blasting in your ears while you’re trying to eat a hundred-dollar duck is pretty funny if you think about it.

But it works.

Smiling at the very cute waiter when he comes over to fill my almost empty glass, I don’t see Arsen move closer to me until I feel the whisper of his hot breath against my ear.

“Why don’t you smile like that at me?”

I feel his pinky finger touching the outside of my thigh as his hand supports his reclining body on the edge of my chair. His nearness is crowding me. The insignificant contact of our bodies makes me want to fidget in my seat, and his words make me want to get up and flee away from him and what they just made me feel.