Darkside Love Affair

by Michelle Rosigliani

  “I am here to watch a movie, Mr. King. I would appreciate it if you let me.”

  “See? That is not fair. You already know my name, but I don’t know yours. I like equality.”

  “Charlotte,” she snapped in a whisper. “Satisfied? Are you going to let me watch the movie now?”

  I hadn’t expected that my smile could grow any wider. I liked her name. And truth be told, I liked the woman too. Perhaps that was why I felt so intrigued by her.

  Yet pursuing her was dangerous.

  Memories that felt dreadfully real flashed in my mind, and for a fraction of a second, they overwhelmed me. Charlotte seemed a lovely, decent woman—a woman who should not have me in her life. So I promised myself tonight was all I allowed myself to have—just a few hours of innocent fun.

  “I will try,” I replied, letting the hand I had kept on the armrest between us invade her space. She didn’t flinch but merely watched my hand, anticipating my next move. “But are you going to watch it?” I teased her.

  Instead of answering my question, she crossed her legs and folded her arms on her chest, stubbornly looking ahead, although we both knew that she wasn’t watching the movie.

  Knowing that I distracted her pleased me. Trying to decipher why it pleased me was a matter I did not want to consider at the moment. So I mimicked her posture and watched her while she obstinately ignored me. I was going to miss another race because of this woman, and I just couldn’t bring myself to care.

  Chapter 5

  Charlotte

  “Is this supposed to be a horror movie?” Marcus murmured, appalled, shifting in his seat until his arm was pressed against mine.

  I should have been the one appalled for thinking of him as Marcus as if he were an old acquaintance. I should have been even more troubled that I had told neither my sister nor her husband that he was practically a stranger. Yet the proximity between us didn’t bother me as much as it should. And because of that, I was frustrated with myself and even more so with him.

  “Look, I don’t trust you or your intentions,” I said, leaning against the armrest.

  Despite the darkness, despite the fact that each time I dared to look up at him, his eyes were directed forward, I was confident he had been watching me. I could feel those blue eyes stuck to my skin as if they had been flames burning through me. His insistence should have scared me, or at least offended me. And because I just felt stupidly flattered, I got defensive, which might have been a flaw of mine, but after all, I couldn’t be blamed. I hardly knew the man and stalking me didn’t help his cause.

  “Why?” he rumbled, sounding genuinely scandalized when I knew he wasn’t. “Is it my jacket?” he continued, touching the black leather jacket he was wearing like he was seeing it for the first time in his life and wondered if it was offensive or not.

  With theatrics that weren’t required, he removed his jacket, flexing all too unnecessarily his muscles and scattering around his scent of spice and musk, then let it drop on the empty seat to his left. He turned his head back to me with a cocky grin that should have annoyed and insulted me. Instead, it made me blush, and the darkness shrouding us did little to hide my discomfort.

  “Problem solved,” he chimed proudly.

  He was wearing a raisin black V-neck shirt that pulled tautly around his torso and complimented his muscular arms. I had noticed his strength since the first time we met, but having him so close, his arm brushing mine and his smug confidence stunning me, the virility he radiated intimidated as well as enticed me.

  What was wrong with me? He was a stranger in a crowd, and that was how he should remain. I didn’t befriend just anybody or pay attention to whoever tried to pick me up on the street. In fact, that type of person caused enormous red flags to pop in my head.

  I didn’t trust the likes of him, so why was he different? Why was he silently tempting me to play his game?

  “And you aren’t funny either,” I retorted. Maybe if I were mean enough, he would give up, and I would not be forced to battle with the temptation he embodied.

  “No? Not even a little?”

  He bent so low that his lips nearly brushed my temple. Once again, I tried to focus on the movie, but it was easier to let myself inhale his scent. He smelled of conifers, musk, and lavender, all wrapped around his natural manly fragrance. His warmth enclosed me, and not only did it enhance his dizzying perfume, but it also increased my own body temperature.

  I had been truly thankful that it was dark enough to not be properly seen until my eyes flicked to my right to see Christina gazing at us with a conspiratorial gleam and a silly grin that made her look like someone who belonged in a circus.

  “What?” I mouthed, glaring.

  “You look gorgeous,” she mouthed back.

  Winking, she let her head rest on Logan’s shoulder. She had been trying for so long to push me into some Prince Charming’s arms that I wouldn’t have been surprised if she decided she liked Marcus enough to start with her usual romantic plots.

  “Of course, we do,” Marcus whispered, making me shudder.

  “I bet you have a great time at my expense.”

  “No, not at your expense. I’d like to have a great time with you.”

  A sinewy and equally warm arm enfolded my shoulders and slightly pulled me to him. He was acting with such an arrogant ease while I tensed and felt my whole body catching fire. I’d like to have been that type of woman who flirted easily, who trusted quickly, who had one-night stands without regrets, but I wasn’t.

  I was cautious, and I trusted people with difficulty because when I did care about someone, I did so completely. I jumped headfirst, without restraints, without holding back. When I loved, I loved with every cell of my body, with every drop of my blood. I loved with a passion that consumed me, and for that, I needed to be careful. I needed to guard my heart.

  “You’re crossing the line,” I hissed.

  “Am I? Because you can always shake my arm off, which you haven’t done yet.”

  I convinced myself that I wasn’t shaking off his arm because I wanted to be civilized and not cause a scene. And I also convinced myself that I couldn’t feel his warmth soaking through my blouse. But in spite of how hard I coaxed myself to ignore him, and certainly, to his immense pleasure, I was completely aware of him.

  “I’m trying very hard to be polite, but you’re making it difficult.”

  “Hissing at me is not exactly polite,” he chuckled. His fingers started a slow dance on my right shoulder. If I was growing stiffer and stiffer in my seat, he was becoming absolutely, annoyingly comfortable. “But let’s continue being civilized. Tell me something about yourself.”

  “I don’t share my personal life with strangers.”

  “Then, I’ll start,” he went on cheerfully, tirelessly. “I’m twenty-nine and a Scorpio, allegedly the most sexual sign. I wouldn’t dare object.”

  I was about to faint. I couldn’t believe my ears. Nobody could be that obstinate or conceited, surely? I glared up at him before I could stop myself. After all, we both knew I had never quite ignored him. My aversion, however, didn’t bother him in the slightest but merely entertained him.

  “I’ve had a wonderful relationship for six years now with Kinga...my dog. I have an unexplainable but troubling fear of insects. My favorite color is... well, right now there’s a battle between the tempting chocolate shade of your eyes and the blue of your blouse.”

  Marcus traced his index finger from my right shoulder all the way to my elbow. “It complements your skin so wonderfully.”

  I shuddered and struggled to escape his touch. If I evaded his caress, I would press closer into him, to his chest. If I kept enduring his stroking fingers, then he would realize that his touch affected me more than I wanted to admit. He was creating a blaze that smoldered within me.

  No, it was the embarrassment that caused the blaze, I assured myself.

  “While your chitchat is very entertaining, I’d like to pay attention to the
movie.”

  “I like a woman who makes me work for her affection,” he continued, unaffected by my continual crossness.

  “I don’t like a man who takes pleasure in getting on my nerves.”

  “I’ll make sure to keep such a man away from you if I see one.”

  “I was talking about you,” I muttered, looking up at him. He stared back with a concentration that momentarily stole my breath.

  “What would life be if the man beside you agreed with you on everything? Don’t you think you’d miss the spice that makes life interesting?”

  “I think that would be a very peaceful, harmonious life.”

  “And a very boring one,” he concluded.

  He finally fell silent, and the abruptness with which he did so, or the absence of his husky voice ringing in my ear, startled me. I should have felt relieved that he had finally deigned to shut up. I should have been able to regain a modicum of composure and cool my burning skin. But I was still sitting stiffly in my seat with my arms folded on my chest, which made Christina chuckle against Logan’s shoulder. Moreover, the fact that Marcus seemed to have suddenly become low-spirited didn’t make me feel any better.

  “So you enjoy being in conflict with people? That’s how you spice up your life?”

  I was stunned with myself that this time, I was the one seeking to break the silence. Thankfully, Christina had chosen seats close to the wall where it wasn’t too crowded. Still, although our entire conversation had been very quiet, it was a small miracle that nobody had come to escort us outside.

  “Not necessarily in conflict,” he replied in that deep, slightly raucous voice of his that made one’s blood pump and rush in strange ways. “But I do believe that divergent minds can create spectacular situations and achieve unexpected outcomes. I do believe that opposed characters are inevitably drawn to each other. Because what you lack, I can offer you, and where I’m faulted, you can mend me.”

  “Hypothetically speaking,” I hurried to interject. He couldn’t talk about him and me. There was no him and me.

  “Hypothetically speaking,” he agreed softly, his breath fanning across my face. I could feel the smile in his voice and the heat in my cheeks. “We aren’t strangers anymore now, are we? You know all about me.”

  “Don’t be modest, Mr. King. You certainly can’t be summed up in so few words.”

  Courageous was the last epithet I would have used to describe myself, but just for tonight, he made me want to be so courageous as to take part in his little game. For one short night, I just wanted to leave caution aside and put fears to sleep.

  “I have a Mechanical Engineering degree to my father’s absolute dismay,” he told me, this time on a more serious note than before.

  “Oh,” I breathed, truthfully taken aback.

  I wasn’t prejudiced, but I hadn’t expected him to have a degree, let alone such a complex one. Indeed, he could have lied just to impress me, but I didn’t believe he had. Perhaps it was his alluring voice or his confident attitude, driven to a maddening point, but when he spoke, he made me believe him entirely.

  “Let’s say your surprise flatters me,” he trailed off, a smile still playing across his face. His voice, though, didn’t sound entirely pleased.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” I hurried to explain. “But I really didn’t expect you to—”

  “What did you expect then? How did you see me?”

  “A motorcyclist,” I replied without a second thought.

  “I am,” Marcus admitted nonchalantly as if being on a motorcycle was the most common thing when to me, it was something so outlandish that I didn’t even dare to think of it. My father had made sure from early on that I was always busy studying or engaged in some intellectual activity. I had never even learned how to ride a bicycle. “What are you, Charlotte?”

  “Me?” I almost stuttered, once again startled by his blunt approach. My eyes were hardly focused on the screen now but searching again and again for his face. “I’m not so daring.”

  “I think you are not allowing yourself to be,” he whispered against my temple, making my skin tingle.

  When he fell silent again, I knew it was because this time he expected me to take the first step—to be daring. He was patient, letting me digest his words. He was also cunning, testing me, challenging me to be as daring as I had said I couldn’t be.

  “And how would you describe a daring woman?”

  “A woman who is determined and not afraid of taking what she wants, yet not a woman who is a ruthless manipulator. A woman who is strong enough to admit she might be weak at times. A woman who is not afraid to show her vulnerability. A woman who ventures to dream strange, impossible things. A woman who will go against the world to defend her ideals. A woman who is willing to be put out of her comfort zone. A woman willing to explore her limits even though she is not sure of the outcome.”

  That woman he was talking about was not me. That woman was the type of person I could only wish to become because plain, wary me could not measure up to such heights.

  “You like daring women.” It was rather a statement than a question, but after he scanned my profile minutely, he answered nonetheless.

  “I do. As much as you like annoyingly tenacious men.”

  “Have you found someone matching your description?” I inquired, choosing to ignore his comment.

  “Not yet.”

  The people around us seemed honestly awestruck by the movie and relatively scared, but my mind was entirely someplace else. Marcus’s words kept ringing in my head. His voice was still filling dark and hidden corners of my mind. And his eyes were positively haunting me. Instinctively, I turned to look up at him, but he was watching the movie, or pretending to.

  The psychopath in the movie meandered his way down a dark corridor, a demented look in his eyes. The music in the background thudded in the speakers, creating a gripping atmosphere. Suddenly the psychopath appeared behind his prey, pushing her brutally against the wall behind them and pressing a blade against her throat. Somewhere behind us, someone yelped and made me give a start. To my left, Marcus chuckled.

  “You should act scared, Charlotte,” he told me, inching closer for the umpteenth time. The way he had said my name was as if he had savored it before letting it out. “The movie is about to end.”

  I realized a few minutes later as the ending credits rolled on the screen and the lights came on that I had no idea what the movie had been about. I exceedingly hoped that Christina or Logan would not ask me if I liked the movie or something in particular about the action. In fact, now that the movie didn’t prevent them from questioning me about Marcus, I suddenly became as tense as I had been the second I found him next to me. What was I supposed to say about him? That we met the night his friends had assaulted me?

  We left the theater in near silence. I saw my sister and her husband kissing lightly on the lips every few steps they took, with such a warm ease, such loving familiarity that it made me wonder how it would feel to have somebody to wake up to—somebody to wake up for?

  Yet, it was Marcus my eyes strayed to every so often. Now that we had left the theater, he was going to vanish any moment.

  “Frowning doesn’t suit you,” I heard him saying. He had put his leather jacket back on, and his right arm rubbed against mine. “It makes you look older.”

  “You’re awful at complimenting a woman.” My voice came out in a rash, severe breath, just like I knew it would.

  “I wasn’t trying to compliment you. It does make you look older when you frown because when you don’t, your eyes have the power of making a man melt on his feet.”

  I hoped he hadn’t heard me groan. He was tireless. And although I had ignored his earlier comment, although I forbade myself to agree with it, I was flattered.

  When Logan’s phone rang, I felt saved by the bell. I turned my back on Marcus, skimming Logan and Christina’s faces as Logan spoke swiftly into the phone and my sister leaned to hear what the pers
on at the other end of the line was saying. Sighing, I wished that Marcus’s body heat hadn’t traversed the space between us and seeped right through me.

  The conversation was short and efficient, my father would have said. As soon as Logan put the phone back into his pocket, he whispered something to Christina and her face fell. Something was wrong with Marie. Nothing else could have made her turn pasty white out of the blue. Nothing could have affected her in such a manner.

  “Is everything alright?” I managed to ask, closing the space between us.

  “It’s Marie,” Logan confirmed my suspicions. “She’s got a fever. Apparently, she’s been crying all night and feeling bad. We should go home, Chris.”

  “Yes—I—” she stammered, and her eyes almost filled with tears.

  It was odd to see my warrior sister crumbling so fast, just thinking about her daughter being in pain. Then, with agitation twisting her features, she turned to me apologetically. I already knew what she was about to tell me.

  “Are you okay if we cut the night short?”

  I nodded and kissed her cheek. Although they were going to leave me alone with a man I hardly knew, I could take care of myself. Marcus might not have been my friend as he had pretended to be all evening, but I wasn’t in danger with him either. I knew criminals, and he wasn’t one. He might have been too persistent, too intense, and too obstinate, but he was not a man intent on harming me.

  “Yes,” I answered when Christina stared at me warily and unconvinced. “You can go. I’ll manage.”

  They exchanged pleasantries and hastened to their car. My previous bravado that I would manage wavered as soon as I remained alone with Marcus, who hadn’t fled yet. He was frowning when I turned to him.

  “Frowning doesn’t suit you either, Mr. King.”

  “Will they be okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

  It would have been easier if he had made some rude joke that would have gotten on my nerves. It wouldn’t have made me feel guilty for pushing him away unkindly.