Page 3 of Ruin

Maybe if I close this deal, I can come here every so often to maintain the account?

As I approached the on-site restaurant, the rich aroma of Italian cuisine beckoned me closer, with the scent of garlic and fresh bread cutting through the air. The restaurant itself was a vision of rustic elegance and intimacy—low ceilings, dark woods, and white linen-covered tables adorned with flickering candles in red crystal votives.

I paused for a moment at the entrance.

Deep breath.

Steady.

As I approached the host, I felt a quiet resolve settle over me. This was my moment, and I intended to make the most of it.

I won’t leave here without this deal.

Chapter Three

Arik

As I took a sip of my wine, the scent filled my nostrils again. It was stronger than ever and sweet, intoxicating, and no longer fighting me. I rested my glass, taking another breath as my fists clenched involuntarily, a futile attempt to suppress the desire gnawing at me. Rising from my usual table tucked discreetly in the corner, where the hills wore their cloak of vines and silence reigned, I surrendered to the craving that had sunk its claws into me. The noise blurred behind me.

Buttoning the top button of my black velvet suit jacket, I walked past the patrons with a deliberate stride, slipping past them with precision. I weaved through servers carrying trays of aromatic dishes, my sharp eyes scanning the room with practiced ease. The restaurant’s ambiance, with soft music played by a three-piece orchestra in an ivy-covered alcove, only heightened my awareness.

Moving through the restaurant, it grew stronger and more potent, pulling me inexorably closer to its source like an invisible thread. My senses sharpened, locking onto the notes, but its origin remained elusive. Frustrated, I cast my gaze beyond the restaurant walls.

“I’ll be back, Vin. Just need some air,” I murmured to the host, my English accent slicing through the evening’s chatter. The noise and smells of the restaurant began to fade, like fog lifting from my mind as I passed the host stand.

I stopped momentarily in the full-length mirror, checking my reflection to ensure that my impulses had not changed my presentation. Slicked-back black hair framed a face that, though pale, remained smooth and ageless. The meticulously tailored black suit draped perfectly over my tall, lean frame, projecting an image of polished, dark sophistication. It was a façade I wore like a second skin, effortlessly embodying a refined elegance that masked the deeper complexities beneath.

“Yes, Sir,” Vin replied with a nod, his professional demeanor unwavering.

The cool evening air hit me as I stepped into the lobby, but the tantalizing trail lingered in my senses, urging me onward. I wandered down the hotel’s corridor, the aroma guiding me like a beacon. With each step, the notes grew more distinct, more powerful, intertwining with my very being.

Just as I homed in on it, I heard the sharp, distinct clicks of high heels against the stone floor. Instinctively, I ducked into a nearby hallway, pressing myself into the shadows between large topiaries. I waited, my heart pounding in the silence, as the scent intensified, mingling with the faint perfume of the approaching figure.

She walked past the hallway, unaware of me lurking in the darkness. I caught a glimpse of her—elegant, composed, with a commanding presence tempered by the slightest air of reservation. The moment she passed, I slipped out from my hiding place, following her with swift, silent steps. As I watched her approach the host stand, my heart quickened, each beat echoing in the stillness of the corridor.

Her voice, a soft yet clear declaration, cut through the ambient noise. “I’m meeting with the general manager, Antonio.” The words resonated with an almost magnetic pull, drawing my attention deeper into the unfolding scene.

I barely noticed Vin’s response before I turned and glided down the corridor toward Antonio’s office. My thoughts raced with each purposeful yet measured step. I rounded the corner, and in a moment of near collision, came face-to-face with Antonio. His expression was a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Antonio’s voice held a thread of concern, his eyebrows knitting together as he took in my sudden appearance. “Arik, what are you doing here?”

I flashed him with a disarming smile, the charm automatic as I towered above his stout frame. “Antonio, I’m good, I’m good,” I replied, my voice smooth. I gently folded my arms, leaning ever so slightly against the wall to box him into his office. I have been playing these games for years, using my charm and ability to read emotions to disarm and persuade.

“There is a woman meeting you for dinner, correct?” I continued, my curiosity barely contained as my lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “What is the story there?”

Antonio’s eyes widened slightly, and he gathered his composure before responding, “Yes, Sir. Claire Bailey. She is the New York City representative for a wine distributor.”

I paused, my mind sifting through the implications.

Claire Bailey.

“The meeting showed up on my calendar. I thought you scheduled it. Is that okay?” Antonio asked, his eyes flicking between me and the hallway just beyond us, clearly unsettled by my sudden, intense interest.

It is happening—and I have been waiting an extraordinarily long time.

I paused, my hand thoughtfully moving to rest under my chin as I feigned perplexity. The pretense of confusion was a mask, hiding the churn of thoughts beneath. “Fine. No worries. However, I think I might know her from somewhere.”

I took a brief pause, trying my best not to appear too eager before I continued, “If it is all right with you, I’d like to take the meeting myself and see if it can jog my memory.”