Page 18 of Game of Revenge

I was baffled. What was his game exactly? Was he trying to get to know me? Or was there some information about me or Richard that he was after? I couldn’t read those dark eyes.

For some reason, he seemed to always be trying to befriend me, and none of this made any sense. But I couldn’t think of anything related to my career that I should hide, so I decided to go with the truth.

“I enjoy customer service, and I enjoy managing a team to achieve excellence. I love the idea of participating in people’s lives as they spend a few days or a week in a transient location, being able to contribute to a wonderful experience and a seamless process as they proceed with their lives.”

“Do you want to work at a hotel or for a restaurant chain?”

“I think a hotel. It’s the job I have lined up, anyway. I would love to manage a chain but would then want to proceed to management of the company, participate in the decision making of where to open hotels, what the brand is supposed to be about and all that.”

I felt myself relaxing a bit. Talking about my dreams calmed me. It reminded me that my life was still a possibility as long as I was alive.

“It’s such a great experience to get to observe people’s behavior, try to grasp their wants, their needs, and package that for them in different locations around the world. Life is short, and I want to participate in making it pleasurable for people, but I also want to be one of the strategic minds behind the process.”

“Where do you plan to work?”

“In New York.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“I’d assume you would want to learn the ways from your family business in California.”

“No, I don’t want to work with him.”

I stopped myself before saying too much. He didn’t need to know that working for Richard was the worst thing that could happen to me, both personally and professionally.

He stared at me, as if expecting me to say more, but I kept my lips shut.

He turned around, went to the cupboard, and grabbed something I couldn’t see. I held my breath, afraid that he was going to hurt me. But when he turned around, I saw a box that looked like a first aid kit in his hands. He put it down on the table, opened it, grabbed some alcohol, some cotton, and a Band-Aid. He saturated the cotton ball with alcohol.

He then slowly walked toward me, his gaze never leaving mine. Despite him looking like a predator getting closer and closer to his meal, I didn’t feel fear, just a weird anticipation. I stood stiffly, my arms down by my sides, unable to make a move, anticipating his touch.

With a frown on his face, he dabbed the cotton ball between my neck and my shoulder.

“You are bleeding a bit,” he explained.

I winced from the cold liquid sending a bit of pain coursing through me. I hadn’t realized I was bleeding from the cut. It had been closing, so I had left it alone.

“I’m sorry about this. I never meant for any of this to happen.” He seemed sincere, but I couldn’t even think of a clever retort on how he was at fault in all of this.

We stood there in silence, my hands still locked by each side of my body, unable to move even an inch. He walked away, threw the cotton in the garbage can, then turned back to me with the bandage open. He placed it on my neck, his fingers lingering on my collarbone, lightly caressing my neck. I tensed a bit further, unable to look away from his eyes.

Barely breathing, I stood there, my lips shaking, anticipating his. My heart was beating faster and faster as his face came closer and closer to mine. With the tips of his fingers, he lifted my chin. I could now feel his breath on my face, warming up my body and accelerating my heart rate.

He seemed undecided. As he got closer, I felt the edge of his lips starting to brush mine. I moaned slightly as he suddenly was pulling away from me.

He brusquely took a few steps back, his eyes wide. I still couldn’t move, immobilized by the rush he had caused inside of me. I felt ashamed, angry at him for playing with me, leaving me wanting more, wanting what I shouldn’t even be thinking about, what shouldn’t be happening. He walked out of the room in a hurry.

The way my body responded to him was overwhelming. I had never experienced such physical attraction and pain before just from the proximity of a man. A dangerous man, no less, who barely touched me and yet activated all my senses, making me pulse between my thighs.

“What happened?” asked Dolores as she entered the room. “He looked sick.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just stared at my feet, trying to hide my flushed cheeks from Dolores. I felt sick.

“Is it time to go back to my room already?” I asked, dreading being locked away again in that windowless bedroom, alone with my thoughts, but I still wanted to escape and be able to close my eyes and pretend I was safe.

“Yes, come.” Dolores smiled.

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