My Twin Flame

by C C Simeon

  Looking across the table at the bar now, Amelia could see that there was none of that emo left in him. He may have been morbid, depressed, and maybe a little messed up, but at least he didn’t have remnants of the black box dye left on the tips of his ears anymore. His face was set in hard lines, nothing like the face Amelia was used to looking at.

  He was looking at the crowd, nursing his scotch. Amelia watched his fingers as they twisted the glass around and around. Multiple tattoos peeked out from under his leather jacket, and on his fingers were rings, each with its own intricate design. All he had left of his teenage years in the foster home was that mad look in his eyes and a grudge—a grudge against Amelia’s boss.

  Amelia was certain that Hilton was absolutely mad. Hunter was a laid-back guy who didn’t cause much trouble. But Hilton? He was the opposite and it made him dangerous. Hilton liked chaos, and when Amelia started working for Hunter, he wormed himself so far into her life that she didn’t know how she was ever going to get rid of him. He’d called her up one day out of the blue and told her about a job that was available. That was years ago. She got the job soon after, and ever since, he acted as if she owed him something. It was only later that she’d noticed his fascination with her boss.

  Amelia knew the two of them were connected; she assumed that was how Hilton had gotten her the job in the first place. But then she found out that they weren’t even talking to each other. Hilton had used her to get into the company, to spy on her boss. He was disappointed to find out that Hunter had never really had anything to do with Amelia. Still, he kept asking, and she kept giving him the same answer. She didn’t know.

  After a while, she realized that Hunter didn’t even know of Hilton’s existence, and Hilton wanted to keep it that way. It was weird, too weird for her liking.

  “How are things going?” he asked, his voice rough as if he hadn’t spoken in a few days. Honestly, where Hilton was concerned, Amelia wouldn’t have been surprised. He enjoyed his own company more than anything anyone else could offer him.

  Amelia shrugged, knowing that he had no interest in her personal well-being. She humored him anyway, answering the way she would have answered Joy. She didn’t want to give Hilton any reason to lash out and play the victim, like he always did. Amelia certainly didn’t have the strength to deal with all of that.

  “It’s going fine,” she said. “Although, I am a bit cautious of the serial killer roaming the streets.”

  Hilton grinned that savage grin of his. “I wouldn’t be worried if I were you. I heard he only targets innocent people.”

  Amelia shifted in her seat, uncomfortable by the turn the conversation had taken. One side of Hilton’s mouth pulled his lips into a smirk before he took a sip of his drink. Amelia looked elsewhere in the bar, at the bored bald barman behind the bar, at the crying woman who was complaining to him. Amelia watched the drunk couple dance to an ancient country song, not wanting their night out on the town to end just yet. It was in the morning hours already, so the bar wasn’t overly crowded but the few people still left were either hammered or depressed. Amelia wasn’t sure into which category she fell.

  She sipped her mojito, hoping it would calm the disco in her stomach. It was far too wild and rowdy for her liking, even if there were only a few people. This place was the sort of establishment that had a single, lost soul at the bar every now and again, not a dozen people who seemed to be enjoying themselves too much. One would think a bar with more broken lights than working ones wouldn’t have gathered such a crowd. Amelia supposed it added to the charm of the bar. The dim lighting hid the damaged faces in the shadows, and Amelia finally managed to draw her gaze back to Hilton’s. She watched the dirty light dance on the scars on his face. There were a few of them: on his brow, his cheeks, his lips. There was even one on his neck. It looked as if someone had held a knife to his throat and pressed too hard. Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised Amelia. If he wasn’t basically her messed-up brother, she probably would have tried to murder him, as well.

  “You were on a date tonight.” Hilton finally broke the silence. The mojito in Amelia’s mouth suddenly turned as thick as condensed milk, and the sweetness of the drink threatened to trigger Amelia’s gag reflex. She swallowed hard, trying to get most of the taste out of her mouth.

  “It wasn’t a date,” she said plainly. She wasn’t going to explain herself to Hilton, of all people.

  Sure, it felt like a date and, technically, it might have been a date, but Hilton didn’t need to know that. She didn’t want to give him anything to hold over her, to use against her. He was good at that, using things against people. He was very, very, good at that. He didn’t have the common decency to accept things as they were, he was always looking for a way to manipulate people. It was just a part of his personality.

  Hilton raised an eyebrow. It was clear that he didn’t believe Amelia for a second. Amelia tried to stay as still as humanly possible. She knew that he wasn’t a Tyrannosaurus Rex, but she hoped that if she just didn’t move, he wouldn’t see her. She wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole.

  “You went for dinner,” he pointed out.

  “It was for work,” Amelia said, trying one last time to convince him.

  “Did you talk about work?” Hilton took out a packet of Lucky Strikes, shaking it before pulling out a cigarette. He lit it, inhaled, exhaled a puff of smoke, and inhaled again.

  The smell of nicotine made Amelia’s nostrils flare. It was a scent from childhood that she couldn’t entirely place. Perhaps from before she’d ended up with Aunt Helena. Perhaps it was from when she was still living with her parents. Either way, it triggered a primal instinct inside of her. Her hackles raised, ready to defend herself.

  “You know that’s illegal, right?” Amelia said, nodding toward his lit cigarette.

  Hilton shrugged and eyed the barman. “A little interesting fact, Amelia. That barman over there is also the owner. He can’t afford to hire more staff, so he tends the bar himself. The reason he can’t afford more staff is that he is paying me to keep my mouth shut.”

  “You’re blackmailing him?” Amelia raised her eyebrows.

  “Blackmail is such an ugly word,” he said before he took another drag and exhaled the smoke into the bar. “But, yes, I am blackmailing him. Honestly, I’m hurt that you think I’m above blackmail. There isn’t a person I’m not willing to screw over to get what I want. And with him? I want to smoke in the bar, and I need my rent paid. He provides me with both. I have many, many people owing me debts and doing my bidding, Amelia.”

  “You are disgusting,” Amelia said, but instead of Hilton taking it as the insult it was meant to be, he grinned—that savage grin of his that made a person want to cower. The grin that meant that there was nothing inside of him other than rot. He was rotten to the core.

  “I don’t think that’s the word you were looking for, Amelia. I am many things, but I am not disgusting. I am a crook, I have little to no morals, and I sure as hell don’t have an ounce of compassion. But I am not disgusting. This face is far too handsome to be associated with such a word.”

  He was right. He had a beautiful face. That was a face that fooled people into trusting him. It was what had fooled Amelia into trusting him, too, and look where that had gotten her. In a bar that basically belonged to Hilton, being antagonized by the very person who had made her childhood miserable.

  “You were telling me about the date,” he continued as he took another drag. “Did you talk about work?”

  “No,” Amelia admitted, hating the conversation.

  “Then it was a date.” Hilton grinned. Amelia contemplated emptying the remains of her cocktail on his head.

  Amelia was getting agitated, which made her even angrier with herself for letting him get under her skin. She couldn’t help it, though. He was like a parasite. It was impossible not to let him get under your skin once you’d come in contact with him.

  “It wasn’t a date, Hilton.”

>   “Did I strike a nerve?” Another inhale, another puff of smoke escaping his lips. “Isn’t a date what we wanted?”

  “It’s 2am,” Amelia groaned. “Why am I here?”

  “Can’t an old friend just ask you out for drinks?”

  Amelia straightened her back. This asshole. This actual asshole was playing the victim? She didn’t know why she was even surprised anymore. He did this whenever they spoke. He got her on the defensive and then got butthurt when she didn’t play along with him. She wished she had more cocktail left. Deciding that there wasn’t enough mojito to justify emptying the glass on his head, she took the last sip and raised her hand, motioning for the waitress to bring her another. She was going to need it.

  “You are not an old friend and you didn’t ask.”

  Hilton shrugged. “Fair enough. I need you to do something for me.”

  Amelia tilted her head to the side, curious as to why he thought she would just do him a favor. He wasn’t the sort of guy to repay a favor. “And why would I do that?”

  “Because I am going to ask you very nicely—and if that doesn’t work, I am not afraid to bring new elements into the conversation.”

  Amelia’s blood went cold, but she didn’t say anything. Over the years, she’d learned that silence was usually the best option, where Hilton was concerned.

  “That’s what I thought. Now, are you ready to listen to me or are you going to be a bitch about something else?”

  Chapter 6: The Smell of Paint

  “Why are you grinning?” Joy asked as Amelia sat her handbag down at her desk. Amelia frowned at her. “Oh, don’t give me that. You’re blinding the whole office with that glow. You might as well be wearing an ‘I had sex last night’ badge on your chest. Wait, you didn’t, did you? Who was he?” Joy leaned closer, as if Amelia was about to spill some sort of secret.

  Amelia rolled her eyes and sat down. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” she replied truthfully. “What did Derrick feed you last night? Obviously, it’s making you a little loco.”

  Honestly, Amelia wouldn’t have been surprised if it was something Joy ate. She once had pig ears for lunch, and neither of them had looked at pigs the same way ever again. It was absolutely horrifying.

  Derrick really was an experimental soul, but not the good kind.

  Joy narrowed her eyes at Amelia, then snapped her fingers like she had suddenly gotten an idea. Amelia’s stomach dropped. That was never a good sign. Once Joy was set on something, there was no stopping her, no convincing her otherwise. Especially not when what she thought was true. It reminded her a little bit of Hilton, and the thought made Amelia’s stomach drop. Last night was certainly a night she wanted to forget.

  But, despite the horrible turn her night had taken, no matter how much Amelia tried to deny it, she was feeling good. She was feeling better than good, actually. Her dinner was more a date than anything else. There hadn’t been a single word spoken about work—not one.

  He must have enjoyed it as much as she had, if he hadn’t brought up the project. Things were working out for Amelia, and she had butterflies in her stomach whenever she thought about him. It was both dangerous and thrilling. Amelia hadn’t felt this good about someone in a very long time, and that said a lot about her. She was a positive person by nature. She believed in the good, she believed that, in the end, everything would work out the way it was supposed to. She was a firm believer in the power of the universe to nudge things a person’s way if they believed in it firmly enough. Amelia had manifested this man; she had attracted him. It was the only explanation she could think of. It was the only thing that made sense to her.

  But there was a Hilton-shaped cloud hanging over her, casting a shadow over everything positive she did or felt. Amelia was starting to second-guess everything in her life, especially the man she was manifesting. It was never supposed to be her boss. Things could never work between them, and Hilton was to blame for that. Hilton was responsible for many things going wrong in Amelia’s life. He was going to ruin this for her, too. She knew it. She wished she could cut all ties with him. She wished she could make him go away entirely, but she knew that was not an option. Not after what he’d asked of her.

  Hopefully, after this, she could leave and start a new life without him in it. Hopefully, she could get another twin flame.

  “You had dinner with he-who-shall-not-be-named last night, right?” Joy scooted closer so she could whisper. At least she was trying to be discreet. But this was Joy, and discreet was not a word in her vocabulary. She was acting very suspiciously, and she was attracting attention. Yup, this was Joy, all right.

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “Voldemort? No, that’s tonight.”

  Joy smacked Amelia’s arm, and Amelia winced. “Don’t give me that! You know every detail about my personal life. Now, spill.”

  “That’s because you tell me about things before I can even protest.” It was true. Amelia didn’t have to ask Joy about anything—Joy liked to announce it to the world.

  “Exactly,” Joy said, crossing her arms and nodding as if Amelia had made her point for her. “I expect the same courtesy. You know my business; I expect to know yours.”

  “That’s not how friendship works, you know?”

  “You’re really not going to tell me how it went?”

  “It went fine,” Amelia said, shrugging. It had gone better than fine, but she wasn’t going to tell Joy that.

  Amelia’s law of attraction only went as far as her head and the privacy of her own home. She wasn’t going to let anyone else in. Not since it seemed like Hilton already knew about the date. The less she shared while there were ears around, the better. Who knew what Hilton was capable of? If Hilton knew about dinner, chances were that she had been followed, or he had someone who worked with Amelia in his pocket. Either way, Amelia wasn’t safe to share anything personal.

  There was also the fact that Hunter was so private at work. Amelia didn’t want to overstep and reveal anything that he didn’t want revealed. It was his business who he let in and who he didn’t. Sure, he hadn’t told her much about his life or past, but it was a start. She knew more about him than anyone else in the office, and that was intimate. Amelia didn’t want to share it with anyone. Not yet, anyway. She also didn’t want Hilton to cause more trouble than he already was. It was apparent that Hilton had something against Hunter; that was apparent from the start. What it was, Amelia didn’t know, and she didn’t want to ask. All she could do was keep Hunter away from Hilton as much as possible. She wanted that intimacy to stay between them, at least for now.

  She didn’t want to share it until she was certain about where things were going. Amelia wasn’t sure whether their connection was going in the direction of friendship or romance, and she also wasn’t ready to decide which one she wanted. He was there; he was in her life. It was up to the universe to decide where it would go next. She was going to let it happen and not interfere. And when it did, she would know what she wanted. Whether they were going to become flames or friends was up to powers higher than Amelia to decide.

  “Only fine?” Joy raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re getting annoying,” Amelia told her, rolling her eyes. Joy threw up her hands in defeat.

  “Fine, I’ll shut up.” There was a moment of silence between them, and then they both sniffed in unison. “Do you smell paint?”

  Amelia grinned, already suspecting what the source was. Hunter had taken her advice. Who would have thought he’d move so fast? Amelia hadn’t thought he would actually go ahead and paint the office. She was fully committed to the idea that it was a joke. Clearly, it wasn’t. Clearly, Hunter valued her opinion. Clearly, Hunter wanted to make the office a better place for the employees.

  Joy cleared her throat, her eyes wide, and Amelia could feel someone standing behind her. Instantly, her eyes darted toward her computer to make sure there were no windows open that might suggest she didn’t work when she was supposed to. She found that she
had not even entered her password to unlock the thing yet.

  “Ladies,” a rough voice said. The voice sounded too much like Hilton’s, it made the hair on the back of her next stand on end until she realized who the voice belonged to.

  Amelia wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole.

  How much of their conversation had he overheard? Surely, Joy would have stopped talking if she had seen him earlier. But, then again, this was Joy. There was never any knowing with her. She was unpredictable in every single way. But was she shallow enough to throw Amelia under the bus like this? Somehow, Amelia doubted it.

  Amelia spun her chair around a little too quickly and hoped no one noticed. A little kick to the wheel of her chair below the table told her that Joy had noticed, and she was loving it. Amelia could almost hear Joy fighting the grin that was threatening to take over her face. Honestly, how old was she, even?

  “Renovating?” Amelia asked. It was the only thing she could think to say. God, why was she so awkward? It wasn’t as if they’d slept together. They’d had dinner. They’d just had bloody dinner. That was it. There was nothing more. But they’d stayed in the restaurant until the waiters had asked them to leave. They’d spoken. They’d only spoken. And it was the best conversation Amelia had had in years.

  Hunter grinned. His gray, tailored suit was perfectly pressed. He looked around the room as if seeing it in a new light. “Yeah, I think it’s time we bring a little life into this place, don’t you agree?”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Joy jumped in before Amelia could say anything. Hunter didn’t look at Joy; instead, his eyes found Amelia’s. He held her stare. His gaze locked on hers and Amelia didn’t think anything would have been powerful enough to break the connection.