OWNED_A Dark Mystery Romance

by Shayne Ford

  I open my mouth to ask questions, but he is quicker than me.

  “People here start partying around midnight. It’s going to be a long night. Get used to it,” he says, grinning.

  “Okay...”

  He brings two glasses of wine from the table and hands me one.

  Soft lights glow at the horizon, more boats, and yachts sailing across the sea. The sky stretches above us, sprinkled with millions of stars.

  The air is warm, not hot, the breeze so soothing.

  “I would’ve never thought I’d be here with you one day,” I say. “It’s better than I imagined,” I mutter, my eyes rooted to his profile.

  “The place or me?”

  “That’s cute. Both,” I say before I take a sip of wine.

  He turns to me and props himself against the railing, his eyes sinking deep into mine.

  He brings his glass of wine to his lips as well.

  “Are you still a non-believer?” I ask, my words prompting him to lift his eyebrows. “A long time ago you said that you didn’t believe in love?”

  He searches my eyes for a few more moments before he lowers the hand holding his glass and brings his fingers to my face.

  Slowly, he runs his thumb across my lips, and then he tilts his head and gives me a kiss.

  His gesture is unexpected, his touch reverberating through me. A simple kiss. A simple touch. Tender, gentle. Meaning so much.

  A grin curls his lips.

  “What do you think?” he asks.

  His eyes soften with a warm smile.

  “I think I changed your mind,” I say teasingly.

  He laughs softly.

  “What makes you say that?” he asks as he loops his arm around my waist and holds my eyes.

  “I think you need me,” I say, a smile threading through my voice. “You like to follow me and read my mind. You like to play with me. I’m good at this as well. I’m your addictive pleasure.”

  I pause for a moment.

  “I need you too,” I say, serious this time.

  He no longer smiles.

  “You are my addictive pleasure as well. I like to be watched by you,” I murmur. “I like to feel your eyes on me and to imagine what you think of me. I like to receive red camellias in the middle of the night and to hear the wind chimes when you come. I love to imagine stories about you and your life and to predict what you will do next. I love your mind as much as I love you. And the fact that...”

  “I need you,” he says, the words flowing smoothly from his lips, resonating in the quiet night.

  I splay my fingers on his chest.

  “Yes, the fact that you need me as much as I need you... makes me believe in love as well.”

  20

  TESS

  Fall

  It’s been a few weeks since I saw him the last time. I left the island after a weekend that gave me such beautiful memories. As we had already planned before we didn’t make any promises to each other and I asked him to let things follow their natural course.

  He stayed behind figuring out his life while I came back to my place and work, not ready to make a significant decision of any kind.

  I miss him more than I can say.

  I didn’t expect so much time to pass by before I’d hear from him again, but it’s been weeks now.

  “Good morning, Miss.”

  I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and turn my head to my left. At the top of the stairs, a woman waves at me.

  “Sylvia?”

  The real estate agent gives me a bright smile.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  She holds a sale sign in her hand that she now props against the railing.

  Pivoting, she points to the house that’s been sitting unoccupied for the past couple of years or so, two doors down from my place.

  “Work,” the woman says, stepping down and nearing me.

  “How about you?” she asks as we shake hands.

  “I live over there,” I mutter, pointing to my house.

  “What happened to that apartment?” she asks.

  “Things didn’t work out, so I moved back to my old place.”

  “That’s a beautiful property,” the woman says appreciatively.

  “Yes, it is. It was my parents home. I grew up on this street,” I say, my gaze sweeping the sidewalks and the trees.

  Canopies of colorful leaves cast a shadow over the road. A rug made of vegetation lies on the ground.

  I can’t believe it’s been a year.

  “It’s a wonderful place,” the woman says, shifting her eyes to the park. “Great to raise a family.”

  “That’s what my husband used to say,” I say with a melancholic voice.

  “What happened?”

  “We are no longer married.”

  “Oh...”

  “Yeah... No, it’s good. No regrets,” I say as we connect eyes again. “What about this house?” I ask, shifting the topic. “How come it’s on the market?”

  “Well...” she says with a different voice. “I have a motivated buyer. Would you like to take a look inside?”

  I ponder for a moment.

  “The price is great, and it would make a great investment,” she says.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Smiling, I follow her up the stairs.

  She holds the door open for me as I set foot inside. The layout looks familiar as it resembles my own home.

  We stop in the foyer first as she gives me some preliminary information before she gives me a tour of the house. Wooden floors stretch beneath our feet while white walls surround us.

  The rooms have fireplaces, and beautiful chandeliers while the stairwell is made of hand-carved wood and wrought iron painted black.

  The kitchen appliances are brand new.

  “What’s the story of this house?” I ask, intrigued. “I’ve never seen anyone live here, except for the previous owner who passed away a couple of years back.”

  She takes a long breath and glances around before she brings her eyes back to me.

  “The house was sold after he died and was renovated by the new owner. As you can see, everything is top notch. He put a lot of money in it, but they never got to live here.”

  “They?”

  She smiles.

  “Yes. At the time, I was under the impression that the young man who bought it was soon to be engaged, and he wanted to make a surprise to his future wife.”

  I lean back against the mantelpiece, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “When was that?” I ask.

  “It was way back... “ she says, pivoting and fishing a piece of paper from a folder sitting on a side table. “Two years ago,” she adds, checking the date on the paper. “Time flies by, doesn’t it?” she mutters as she looks down at it.

  Her eyes shift back to me.

  “It was great timing,” she says, grinning again. “This was my first sale. I couldn’t believe my luck,” she mutters as she glances around again. “I was just changing careers. Well... It was more than that, in fact. I was a stay-at-home mom. Before I had my daughter, I worked in advertising. It was a good job. Well paid but highly demanding. I wanted to be home with my child, and my husband agreed with me at the time. We both thought it was a great idea.”

  She pauses for a moment, a shadow darkening her eyes.

  “A few years later, he found someone else, and my life turned upside down. I was no longer a stay-at-home mom. I was an unemployed, single parent. I had to go back to work. I found a part-time job in advertising, but it didn’t pay enough to support us. The alimony wasn’t enough either, so a friend of mine suggested that I should try to work as a real estate agent. I resented the idea at first. The thought that my livelihood would depend on a commission scared the hell out of me. She insisted on me trying it, arguing that this is a good area with high-value properties and that making an income with this was realistic. I agreed to give it a try for a couple of months. I sold this house in my first two week
s. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw my first paycheck. I was really lucky,” she says again, sliding the piece of paper on top of the folder sitting on the table.

  She turns to me just as the paper slips off the table, floats in the air and lands in the middle of the room.

  My eyes fall on it as she lowers herself to pick it up.

  It’s a printed email from what I can tell. My eyes sweep the few lines, and the name at the bottom.

  Sebastien.

  What?

  I slide my gaze back, but the woman is already folding the paper, slipping it into the folder.

  “The man who bought the house... What did he look like?”

  She smiles again.

  “Young. Not even in his thirties. Handsome. Very handsome,” she adds, grinning.

  “Have you seen his ‘future wife’?”

  “No. I’ve never met her.”

  “What made you think he was about to get engaged?”

  “I don’t know...” she says, trying to recollect the moment or perhaps the conversation. “Oh. I know. He dropped a few words that made think about that. He said something like... I’m sure she’d like it. And then he bought it without questions asked or the slightest hesitation. He didn’t even try to haggle. The way you buy something that you want, no matter what. At first, I thought that perhaps it was his youth speaking. You know... He did it on impulse, but then I realized that the woman must’ve meant a lot to him.”

  “Can you describe him for me?”

  “Dark hair. Beautiful green eyes. Chiseled face. The kind of features you see in a fashion magazine. Always, suit-clad. It was fall like now, and he was wearing a dark, wool coat over his suit and gloves that complemented his look perfectly. He was oozing that sort of classic elegance you rarely see these days.”

  A small smile tickles my lips.

  “And you say there was no trace of a woman...”

  “Yes,” she says, taking a few steps forward and opening a window.

  Sunlight sweeps the floor as voices drift through the air, traveling from the park. A puff of wind swings the drapes bringing in a scent of smoke.

  And then I hear them... A sweet, melodious, metallic sound ripples through the air as the wind chimes start dancing and singing again.

  Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling.

  Slowly, I walk toward the window and gaze at the trees as they shake their branches, shedding their leaves.

  Two doors up the street is my house. Right in front sits the park. The road is quiet as it’s always been, only the voices of the children and the barking of the dogs wafting from nearby.

  I tip my gaze to the balustrade and spot them… The melodious wind chimes that always sing when he is nearby.

  Glinting under the sun, swirling and colliding.

  Dancing in the wind.

  A smile curves my lips, a thought warming up my heart.

  He was here, watching me. Way before everything got started.

  “Happy Birthday, beautiful girl, ” Anna says, hugging me.

  Danny plants a huge bouquet of flowers in my arms while she deposits a gift-wrapped box on top of them.

  “Thank you so much,” I say, my cheeks flushed. “Make yourself comfortable,” I say, motioning them to the dining room.

  The house brims with guests. Danny joins them while Anna helps me with the flowers and the gift and then follows me in the kitchen.

  “The house looks beautiful,” she says, glancing around.

  I smile.

  “Yes. Rebecca’s done a great job.”

  “It’s not only that. It’s beautifully decorated.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Mmm... And the food looks delicious,” she mutters, eyeing the platters piled up with appetizers. “Same catering company?”

  “Nope. It’s me. Everything’s done from scratch.”

  Her eyebrows lift in surprise.

  “What’s gotten into you?”

  I laugh.

  “I just wanted to have some fun.”

  We take the platters to the table and come back for the bowls of salad.

  “Everybody's here,” she says. “How are the two new men?”

  “They’re great,” I say as I fill the bowls. “I would’ve never thought that I’d see Maggie and Viola with men they care to bring to dinner.

  She chuckles.

  “I know.”

  I glance up at her.

  “Have you set a wedding date?” I ask.

  She nods.

  I straighten, my mouth open with disbelief.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted to tell you after the party.”

  I grin.

  “You said the same thing last year. So when is it?”

  “January 15th.”

  “Mmmm… A winter wedding. Nice. I can’t wait.”

  “What about you?”

  We connect eyes again.

  “What about me?” I ask, smiling.

  “Have you heard from your Mysterious Man?”

  “No.”

  I’m still grinning.

  She studies my face, a bit puzzled.

  “Do you want to hear from him again?”

  “Yeah... I think so,” I say playfully.

  “You think so, or you want to?”

  “I think he’ll show up when he wants to show up.”

  “What makes you so sure that he will?”

  I smile smugly.

  “Do you know something that I don’t?” she asks.

  I shake my head.

  “No. But he will come. That much I know.”

  “Okay.”

  We take the salad bowls to the dining room and join everybody else around the table.

  As the party gets started, I swing my eyes from my mom’s new man–– a retired physician who shares her love for outdoors, and my sister’s new flame–– a college student like her who has a passion for art and philosophy, and flashbacks come to me.

  It’s the same place as last year and yet it doesn’t look the same. Or feel the same for that matter.

  Everybody seems more relaxed or perhaps it’s how I feel.

  Vibrant colors are scattered all over the house. Flowers, linens, rugs, upholstery. Even the curtains. Art hangs on the walls, and books are scattered everywhere. It all looks warmer and more inviting. It all reflects me, more than it did in the past.

  Close to midnight, my guests kiss me goodbye and my house empties. I clean the dining table and the kitchen and then I fill the dishwasher.

  From a drawer, I pick a different set of linens and drape them over the dining table.

  I set a crystal clear glass on top of the red tablecloth and pour golden wine into it.

  From another drawer, I fish out a couple of candles. I light them and set them on the table as well.

  The house is silent.

  I open the windows, letting in the crisp air of the night.

  And then I take a seat.

  And wait.

  Smiling. Sipping wine once in a while. Glancing at the wall clock from time to time.

  The wind blows softly, puffing the curtains.

  The clock hands move as the time ticks by.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

  It’s midnight when I hear the wind chimes sing.

  First, mellowly and muted, in the distance. And then louder as they start to swing and bump into each other, giving birth to their beautiful sound.

  The sound I love so much.

  Ding-a-ling. Ding-a-ling.

  My heart dances just as fast. The curtain twist and turn, puffed by the wind, the candlelights flickering as well.

  And then I hear the footsteps.

  Calm. Paced. Nearing my house. I count the steps. And then the stairs.

  One, two, three... All eight.

  They stop.

  The wind no longer blows. The wind chimes no longer sing. The candlelights stay still while my breath barely rolls. Only my heart drums like crazy.

  I
hear a key shifting in the lock.

  The door remains closed.

  I push out of my chair and take a few steps toward the door. The doorknob moves. My heart stops.

  With wide eyes and parted lips, I watch it slide open. His silhouette fills the doorframe.

  His eyes glimmer in the dimness, the streetlight glow caught in his hair. A long coat drapes over his shoulders, a tailored suit hugging his frame. Gloved hands hold the flowers.

  All red. Except for six that are white.

  Matching them, a red silk tie complements his suit.

  A smile sits on his curved lips.

  “Good evening, Tess.”

  Biting my lip, to suppress my grin, I close the distance between us.

  “Good evening, Sebastien,” I mutter, watching him spellbound.

  My fingers go to his face, slowly tracing his jawline as if I want to make sure that he’s real.

  This skin is cold. His breath is hot. The scent of his cologne unmistakable.

  “Happy Birthday, baby,” he says, lowering his mouth and placing a soft kiss on my cheek.

  He sheds his gloves and hands me the flowers.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  His lips come to mine again, his arm looping around me. His kiss is soft and tender.

  “I thought you’d never come for me,” I say.

  A soft laugh makes it to his lips.

  “I waited for you to get your answer first.”

  I tilt my head back and look at him, puzzled.

  “My answer?”

  A knowing smile curves my lips.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “It was the most important piece of the puzzle. The key to everything. Why did you hold it back?” I ask.

  He runs the edge of his teeth over his bottom lip before he curls them into a mysterious grin.

  He lowers his lips to my hair and murmurs against my temple.

  “I didn’t want to mess with time or fate... I wanted you to find it on your own and be ready for me,” he says before he straightens.

  “Do you think I’m ready now?” I ask.

  Grinning, he slowly nods.

  “Yes, I do. Not only that…” he mutters as he tips his chin and points to the dining room behind me. “But you were waiting for me.”