FALLEN: A Dark Mystery Romance (LOVE IS WAR Book 1)

by Shayne Ford

  I put my coat on as well.

  “Tell you what?”

  People stroll by us as they begin leaving the place when she grabs me by the elbow and pulls me to the side.

  She leans closer to me, her eyes drilling mine.

  “What is going on, Tess?”

  I look at her, puzzled.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You asked me to keep him occupied so that you could step outside, but I didn’t really need to. The man got busy talking with a woman, and then he got pissed for some reason, to the point that I couldn’t reason with him. He wanted to leave that very moment, and I couldn’t convince him to stay. He wanted to know where you were, and I had to tell him. That’s why he came outside, looking for you.”

  “Okay...” I murmur.

  “No, it’s not okay,” she says under her breath, her jaw tense. “He came back even more upset than he was when he left.”

  “Why would he be upset?

  She cocks her head to the side and gives me a pointed look that reminds me of my mom.

  “What were you doing outside?”

  I look down briefly, avoiding her eyes.

  “Long story.” I glance up. “Nothing important really. Just one of my things,” I say.

  She gives me a puzzled look.

  “Well... Whatever that thing was, it sure pissed the hell out of him.”

  “He shouldn’t be pissed. It was nothing.”

  She shrugs.

  “Okay, you know better, but if I were you, I’d have some sort of explanation ready for him,” she says, frustration tinging her voice.

  She motions me to the exit.

  We both walk in that direction when a thought starts playing in my head.

  I grip her arm.

  “Wait a minute,” I say

  We both stop.

  She looks at me.

  “What woman?” I ask.

  Her eyebrows lift slowly.

  “I don’t know... She was one of the guests. A friend of the artist from what I gathered. They were talking about him.”

  “My Allan was talking with her about Stephan Leon?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

  She gives me a quick nod.

  “Yes.”

  A strange sensation pours over me.

  “It didn’t seem suspicious to me…” she murmurs, a bit taken aback as she notices the change of expression on my face. “We were all talking about him.”

  “What does she look like?”

  She ponders for a moment.

  “Dark hair, pretty face. An elegant coat with a nice cut. Self-important, if you ask me. Why?”

  I slowly shake my head, a storm of thoughts spiraling inside my head.

  “Nothing,” I say softly as I push back my turmoil. “Let’s go.”

  Gently, I nudge her to the exit.

  Half an hour later, Alan and I drop Viola at her place.

  The space fills with silence the moment she climbs out of the car and the door slams behind her.

  Quiet, Allan looks at his left as we veer away. The tension between us grows thicker than the fog outside.

  Empty sidewalks sprawl along the dark, wet road, here and there lights glowing at the windows.

  “Did you like it?” I ask, trying to break the ice.

  A muscle pulses in his jaw.

  My eyes linger on his face for a few more moments, furtively studying him.

  I feel him tense, conflicted, and somewhat distant. His eyes evade mine, his brow furrowed as if he ponders over something.

  Seconds of silence slip by before the question that I fear the most gets voiced.

  “Who was that man, Tess?”

  His voice strikes me as different. Tense, and cold, yet with the edge of anger.

  What is with him?

  He doesn’t peel his eyes off the road.

  “What man?” I ask to buy some time.

  He tilts his head to the left as we take a turn, his arms and shoulders stiffening with more tension. My eyes dip at the fist locked around the steering wheel.

  “No one,” I say the moment he swings his gaze back to the road. “He was no one,” I repeat.

  “Do you know him?”

  “No.”

  My answer comes promptly.

  Genuine. Sincere. Raising above any suspicion.

  He looks at me for the first time since we left the gallery.

  I hold his eyes with the confidence of someone who has nothing to hide.

  “What were you looking for in the street then? Were you talking to him?”

  My stomach clenches.

  “No, no. It was nothing like that.”

  He pulls to a smooth stop in front of our home and turns off the ignition.

  I fidget in my seat.

  “Let’s go inside,” I say as I unlock my seat belt.

  He grabs my forearm.

  “Who is he, Tess?”

  I spot a turmoil in his eyes. It strikes me as unusual.

  This is not who he typically is.

  “I have no idea.”

  He looks at me incredulously.

  “I really don’t know. I asked the valet if he knew him. I wanted to know his name...” I rush to add, digging myself into a hole.

  “His name?”

  I freeze, taken aback by the fury seething in his voice.

  “Yes,” I retort boldly. “But the man didn’t know his name,” I say, serving him a lie.

  “Why would you ask for his name?”

  I get slammed by panic.

  I look down to avoid his grilling gaze. He tears his hand away from me.

  “Why would you ask for a stranger’s name, Tess?” he asks with a softer voice.

  “Why is it such a big deal to you?” I ask, looking at him.

  Daggers fly from his eyes.

  “Because you made a fool of yourself, standing like that in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to approach a stranger, a man nonetheless. People were looking at you.”

  He pauses for a moment, barely containing his fury.

  “You act erratically, Tess,” he says with a calmer voice, but he can’t fool me.

  “I’m not crazy if that’s what you suggest.”

  He gives me a side glance, doubts crammed into it.

  “I wanted to know who he is because I thought I saw him around lately.”

  “Around? What do you mean around?”

  With a tick of my chin, I motion to the park.

  His eyebrows tilt up, disbelief sliding onto his face.

  “You saw him in the park?”

  I hear the contempt in his voice.

  “Yes,” I toss at him assertively.

  “Are you stalking the men you’re seeing in the park now?”

  He bluntly sneers at me.

  “I resent the tone of your voice.”

  “Are you? Answer my question,” he barks.

  “It’s not men. I have made an inquiry about this particular man.”

  He leans back in his seat, bewildered.

  “What’s so special about him?”

  “Nothing, Allan. There is nothing special about him. As I said before, I don’t know anything about him. I’ve never even seen his face.”

  The more I talk, the worse everything gets.

  “How did you know it was him, then?”

  I stay silent. His hand comes to my arm again, jerking me a couple of times.

  “How did you know, Tess?”

  It takes a tremendous effort to meet his gaze, even more so since tears start pooling in my eyes.

  “I just knew,” I say, my voice barely audible.

  10

  TESS

  I drag a duvet and an oversized pillow down the stairs, and moments later, I enter my office. This room has become my exile these past few weeks.

  Tonight of all nights, I can’t sleep with Allan in the same room, let alone the same bed. His resentment toward me makes the air unbreathable.

  I toss everything on the
sofa and make my bed. Fresh air rolls into the room as I open the window. I tuck myself under the covers and pull the laptop close to me.

  I slide it open. Staring vacantly at the screen, I start browsing.

  A pestering thought keeps taking jabs at me.

  I wonder where the clip with that beautiful brunette came from. I spend a few good minutes, checking files and links and email accounts, but I find nothing.

  Still, I keep clicking away.

  One, two... Three windows. I finally shift my focus to the bookmarks and click on the link that takes me to the forum page.

  Random Thoughts hasn’t posted in a while. His thread went nowhere from what I can tell, our exchange of words seemingly one of the last interactions he has had online.

  I click on his name and message him directly, knowing full well that there is a very little chance that he is around and therefore I don’t expect him to answer me.

  A few questions pop into my head.

  I type down the first one.

  Me: What is that black flower on your avatar?

  To my surprise, a few pulsing dots flash on my screen, relaying to me that he is writing.

  Intrigued, I wait.

  Random Thoughts: A black camellia.

  Me: Camellias are pink, white, red or multicolored. Why black?

  Random thoughts: Sometimes even the things that are beautiful and pure can turn dark.

  Me: Have they turn dark for you?

  Random Thoughts: Maybe.

  I wait a few seconds before I type again.

  Me: How come you are online so late? I don’t think there’s anyone else here but us.

  Random thoughts: I wasn’t either, but then you showed up.

  His words bring a smile to my lips.

  Me: You’re flattering me.

  Random Thoughts: It’s the truth. How come you’re not sleeping?

  Me: I usually go to sleep close to the morning hours.

  Random Thoughts: Me too.

  Me: What keeps you up at night?

  Random Thoughts: You.

  I grin.

  Me: Haha. That’s funny. You didn’t even know I’d be here tonight.

  A few moments pass by.

  Random Thoughts: But I did.

  I start laughing, and then I freeze and do a double take at his message. Is he serious?

  I wait for a few seconds, unsure whether to write the question or not. Finally, I start typing.

  Me: Who broke your heart?

  A few moments pass by.

  Random Thoughts: A woman.

  My eyes linger on his words.

  Me: Was it love?

  His answer comes instantaneously.

  Random Thoughts: No.

  Me: What was it then?

  Random thoughts: Misfortune.

  Another pause slips by.

  Random thoughts: Did you have fun tonight?

  My eyes widen. My eyebrows lift.

  An odd sensation hovers over me.

  Me: Tonight? What do you mean?

  Random Thoughts: It’s Friday night. I thought you had some fun. People usually do.

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  Me: Yes. I did. I went to an art exhibition. I liked it.

  I count five minutes of silence before his next message arrives.

  Random Thoughts: Do you feel lonely?

  My heart stops for a second before it starts to drum, slamming against my ribcage.

  Suddenly I feel at unease.

  A wave of heat sweeps my back.

  Me: Is this your way of asking me if I’m single?

  I press ‘send’, a second later cringing.

  This is way more flirtatious than what I would’ve liked.

  Random Thoughts: No.

  No what?

  I slacken in the pillow.

  Ugh!

  How can I write something so stupid?

  A few minutes pass by before I see him typing again.

  Random Thoughts: Do you feel lonely?

  I no longer smile. His words bringing tears to my eyes.

  Me: Yes, I do.

  My mind is foggy.

  I can’t tell what time it is or whether it’s morning or afternoon. The only thing I know is that the house is quiet and I’m sunk into complete darkness.

  Words arrange beautifully in my mind as if I write a book and read it as I go. They come to me, one by one, like spoiled little children, teasing me, some smiling to me, while others make me cry. They speak of loneliness and love, and also of a broken heart.

  My eyes stay closed as my mind teeters on the edge of the awareness.

  Am I still asleep?

  I’m probably not, and yet I can’t pull myself out of the soporific state.

  The wind chimes roll in my ears. I must’ve left the window open, I muse.

  What day is today?

  Allan is gone. It must be Monday then.

  His face comes to my mind–– sandy blonde hair, and light blue eyes, glaring disappointment rolling over his features.

  With the memory of him comes the recollection of the silent weekend that we’ve spent together. The effort to avoid each other was evident.

  I push his image to the side and open my eyes, letting them to adjust to the dimness. I flick my gaze to the side. The streetlights are on. It can’t be morning. Is it afternoon then? Have I slept that many hours?

  I push upright and snatch my phone off the side table.

  Six o’clock… In the evening??

  Oh, my God.

  I run a hand over my eyes and slide my thumb over the screen.

  Four missing calls. Mom. Viola. Anna. Twice.

  No sign from Allan.

  My chest tightens with apprehension. That’s not a good sign. It’s not like him to hold a grudge for so long. Especially for something so stupid.

  I call Anna.

  “Can you come to my place tonight?” I ask.

  “Sure. What happened?”

  “Nothing. I mean... There was something. Allan and I got into some sort of argument last Friday.”

  “Okay,” she says a bit surprised. “Where is he now?”

  “He’s in Chicago for a conference. You can sleep here if you want to.”

  “Okay. Give me a half an hour or so,” she says before we end the call.

  I set the phone down and look around. My eyes get snagged by a patch of color.

  Flowers fill a vase on my desk. Red, pink. White. They look like, um... Camellias?

  The realization makes my breath hitch.

  I leap to my feet, the sharp movement spurring a pulsing ache in my head.

  I shudder, but I don’t have time to think about it as I have to pick up the phone. It’s ringing.

  “Mom?”

  “Hi, sweetie. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  I lean against my desk, my eyes on the flowers.

  “Have you send me flowers?” I ask before she has the chance to speak again.

  The question shoots from my lips without much thinking. She used to not far back. I can’t imagine it was Allan.

  “No,” she says.

  I search for a card.

  It must be Allan, then, but something tells me that it’s not.

  “You wanted to talk to me...?”

  “Yes. I want to take Luna with me. I’m spending some time at Meredith’s place this week. If you don’t mind.”

  “Sure. No problem. How is Luna?” I ask.

  “She’s good.”

  Loud barking fills the background.

  “Yes, sweetie. You will have a blast,” my mom says to my dog.

  I wait for a few moments.

  “She has a great time playing with Meredith’s dog. They will love it out there in the countryside,” she says, referring to her friend’s new home.

  “Okay. Make sure she wears a sweater when you go outside. It’s cold now.”

  “She already does. Don’t worry. You know I take good care of her.”
>
  “I know...” I mutter absently.

  “Are you gonna be okay by yourself till Allan comes back?”

  “Yes. Anna will spend the night here.”

  “Okay, then,” she says before she hangs up.

  Silence rolls into the room.

  I shift my eyes back to my desk, an unusual sensation creeping up on me.

  How did these flowers get in here?

  Reluctantly, I call my husband.

  “Allan?”

  “Yes.”

  His voice is cold.

  “Um...”

  I pause.

  “Yes?”

  “How was your day?”

  I cringe.

  “Good. It was busy,” he says curtly. “What is it, Tess?”

  His voice slashes me.

  I take a long breath.

  “Nothing. I just wanted to know how your day went,” I say, rushed and nervous. “And also to thank you for the flowers.”

  “Flowers?”

  My heart stops for a second.

  “What flowers?” he asks, evidently irritated.

  “Um... The ones I found on my desk. There’s a bouquet in the vase,” I blurt out.

  “I didn’t put them there.”

  “You did not?”

  “No, I didn’t,” he repeats, irked. “Can we talk about this when I get home?”

  That’s five days away.

  “Sure,” I say with an icy voice as well.

  “Have a good night, Tess,” he says dismissively.

  “You too,” I mumble.

  What. The. Fuck.

  My stomach hurts.

  11

  TESS

  Clad in a robe, hand wrapped around a mug of coffee, I dash straight to my office.

  With the second sip of coffee, the fog lifts from my head as if it’s magic.

  Anxiously, I sift through the phone numbers.

  “Rebecca?”

  “Good evening, Miss Sandoval.”

  “Can you talk for a moment?”

  “Sure. Let me go into a different room. The kids are really loud.”

  She closes a door, the children’s voices subsiding to a muted hum.

  “What happened? Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Yes. Everything is fine. I have a few questions for you.”

  “Is this about the cleaning?”

  “No, no. No need to worry. You’re doing a great job.”

  “I hope I didn’t wake you today.”

  I smile.

  “No, you didn’t. What time did you come in, by the way?”

  “As usual. Two o’clock.”