CHAPTER 1 :
“How do you mourn the loss of a love you never spoke out loud? Never felt with your own two hands?” — 14 lines from love letters or suicide notes, David Luben.
I nervously paced up and down my hotel room, my steps echoing against the walls, reverberating back to my own ears. What was Vincent taking so long for? Trepidation had given it's way to streams of sweat descending down my forehead to the jaw, teeth clenching by itself. The sticky night air clung to my chest, as I deeply inhaled, breathing it in. My head turned towards the wooden door of the room, only to see it swing open by someone from outside.0
“Xavier, is this how you'll attend the party? And why do you look like you've been running across Asia and America since the last two hours?” His eyes twinkled notoriously, the onyx shade in them swirling with desire, as he stood in the light, his dark auburn hair falling across his temples, his lips stretching into a devious grin. This man's aura emanated danger. That was because, he was my boss. And I, his right hand man.
“Where were you all this time? I was waiting for you come.” My tone was mildly accusative, brushed with a tincture of annoyance as he cocked his head to the side, the soft light from the lamp casting shadows across his face, cutting harsh angles against the prominent contours of his facial features. God, he was hot. Before I could ask him another question, he walked towards me, his black shoes clicking against the polished tiles.
“Did I keep you waiting for long?” He whispered in a tone that sent shivers up my spine, my mind boggling with thoughts I'd rather not confess. His face inched closer to mine, the seductively musky perfume flooding in my nostrils, caging me in like a deer caught in headlights.
“No…no…I was just-“ I stammered, having a glorious difficulty in finding my own voice, and the urge to form a coherent sentence, “Curious to know what you were doing.” Upon finishing the sentence, I could feel his hand rest on my jaw, fingers grazing across it. The rings that he wore brushed across my skin, the cold metal making me shiver, as a contrast to his warm touch that wanted me beg for more. Is that how I was supposed to be behaving?
“You know Xavier, you worry too much. Sometimes all you should be doing is breathing and pushing unnecessary thoughts out of your mind.” He answered in a low tone, his marble like complexion bewitching me for god knows how many times. Observing my helplessness gave him a feeling of superiority and reassurance. Superiority in the sense that I was still, his. And reassurance of the fact that his charm wasn’t going anywhere.
Even after utmost resistance, my gaze fell on the curve of his mouth, as I gulped my own saliva, sharply exhaling the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Time seemed to have halted for an unbelievable interval, silence stretching like a taut rubber band. “Come on now, Xavier. Our old man will be batshit if we don't reach the hotel lobby in time. Get dressed.”
“I'm pinning this late arrival on you. The last thing I want is John Sterling coming after my ass.” I argued in a light hearted tone, while I heard him chuckle, discreetly stepping back. Every nerve in me was already straining to feel the lost connection of his skin with mine. This was hopeless.
Shaking his head, I watched him sit on the large couch, the leather material sinking under his weight. He crossed one leg over the other, the tight formal pant hugging his thighs the right way. I heard him sigh, slipping into a pensive mood, his eyes getting distant and unfocused. What gave? He, of all people, never mulled over trivial things. His sudden change of mood was a cause of concern for me. What if, he knew something about me? Something he wasn’t supposed to?
“You wanted to know why I was late.” He continued in a low voice, absentmindedly staring into the abyss which was invisible to my eyes, “I caught a mole.” My breath hitched at the last word, heart slamming against my ribcage. Shit, shit, shit, he knows—but how, why—? Cold sweat broke out against my palm, goosebumps appearing across the skin. He was going to kill me. Unable to move, I was frozen on spot, but he made no effort to get up or threaten me.
“How do these moles even get in? You and I put so much effort into keeping them away. It's almost as if they want to die, but they have no one who'd do it for them. Thank you for sticking with me, Williams. I couldn’t have done all of this without you.”
(A/N : I've been so absent minded recently that I not only forgot about this book, but also forgot to write this author's note when I finally posted the chapter.
However, I'd like to hear your thoughts about the first chapter. I guess, that's all I have to say. Enjoy.)
It's too damn good
Your writing feels like watching a film play out, every line of dialogue, every movement, and every moment lands with precision. I could picture the light, the atmosphere, the way the tension builds in quiet waves. You know exactly when to hold a moment and when to let it break. That’s not just storytelling, that’s direction. The recent twist was brilliant, bold, unexpected, but absolutely perfect for the story’s rhythm. Truly unforgettable work.
interesting