Page 18 of Sweet Poison

Wow, this place really goes out for Christmas.

Before I can thank him, he steps forward and expertly grabs my backpack and uncle’s bag. “Follow me, please. The elevator is this way.”

Uncle Cianne remains at my side as we follow Antonnio to the elevator. “You will have a wonderful time. The resort has a certain magic to it,” he says, glancing over at me. “If you need anything at all, just let me know.”

Magic.

Huh.

Now thinking about it, it did feel quite magical the moment we stepped inside the resort.

I nod with a grateful smile, while Uncle says, “Thanks man. Appreciate it,” and tips him. I watch as my uncle hands him a wad of twenty-dollar bills. My father is a criminal. I know this and so are my uncles and aunt but they still are the most selfless people I know. Maybe it’s wrong and immoral but that’s life and life has taught me that the people with clean cut looks and “normal” family life and charming personalities at times are the most messed up. Politicians swear to do good by their people and they lie, cheat and steal. Hell, even the ones sworn to protect us, at times, can be corrupted and evil too.

It’s never that simple and we’re not just black and white.

In my case my criminals are good men.

“Thank you, sir but this is too much,” Antonnio gently declines the money but uncle pushes the money into his hands. “Nonsense,” my uncle insists, leaving no room for discussion.

Antonnio looks a bit embarrassed but takes the money hesitantly but nods gratefully.

“Okay, now take us to our room, kind man.” Uncle jokes and claps Antonnio’s shoulder just as the elevator doors open. The bellhop, Antonnio, gestures for us to step inside and then he holds the door open for us. Uncle Cianne steps inside the first and positions himself in the middle. He’s always done that. He positions himself between me and anyone that could potentially be a danger to me. No matter how kind and sweet they act. It’s just how it’s always been.

Antonnio presses our floor’s number on the panel when I get the feeling of being watched. I stand between Antonnio and my uncle when my gaze is drawn to a tall man standing outside the elevator near the lobby’s fountain. The stranger has striking black hair and from all the way here I can see his deep, dark eyes that seem to pierce through me. How is that even possible? Butterflies swarm my belly with each second the man pins me with his intense gaze.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

My heart starts to beat faster and for a split second, the lobby and the cheerful noise around us fades away and time feels like it stands still. And while everything else seems to be silent, my heart thunders inside my chest, and I’m utterly captivated by the tall man with the dark and magnetic intense presence.

I notice he’s dressed like male models and famous men do. Stylish and expensive. He is wearing black slacks, with matching loafers and a white shirt that has two buttons unbuttonedallowing me to see an ink chest with a silver chain and muscular tattooed arms.

He is… beautiful. Maybe beautiful is not enough to describe him. He seems almost otherworldly handsome.

His dark gaze remains locked on mine, and I can’t look away. I’m trying but something keeps me from looking away from him and with every second that passes I feel like he’s seeing through me, stirring a whirlwind of emotions that I can’t quite grasp. Emotions that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Since cold winter nights with an angry beautiful boy. Since…him.

Recognition hits me, but it can’t be him, can it?

I feel like I’m caught in a beautiful dream, the world around us blurring as the elevator doors begin to close. My breath catches, and I try to make sense of what’s happening and what I’m seeing. The man’s expression is unreadable, but there’s something about the way he looks at me that makes my heart race uncontrollably and the butterflies in my stomach cause havoc inside my stomach.

But then the elevator doors shut, and the man is gone. The spell he put me under shatters, and I’m left standing there, dazed and breathless and so confused.

I press my back against the wall of the elevator, and tap my chest repeatedly trying to steady my breathing and my racing heart. Only then does it dawn on me…

That the man with the black hair and black eyes reminded me of a sweet ghost from the past who grew up to be my favorite formula 1 driver.

But it can’t be him.

Uncle Cianne gives me a curious look, but I just manage a small, shaky smile. “Everything okay?” he asks, his voice sounding concerned.

I tap my chest three more times and wait for my heart to calm and when it doesn't, I take a deep breath. “Yeah, I just…I just thought I saw something,” I reply, my voice betraying my shock.

As the elevator ascends, I can’t help but glance back at the closed doors, the image of those familiar dark, intense eyes lingering in my mind. Could it be him?

When my heart settles, I am left wondering if it was real or just a figment of my naive imagination.

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