Page 4 of Ruin

I allowed a hint of enthusiasm to color my voice, as though the opportunity to meet her was purely coincidental. “Besides, this seems like an excellent chance to gauge this distributor and do my due diligence.”

Antonio’s nervous stammer was barely a murmur against the backdrop of my inner musings. “Sure, boss. Whatever you would like to do.”

I leaned in slightly, my tone dropping to a confidential whisper. “And listen, let me handle this from here out. I will keep you posted on what transpires.”

Antonio stood silently for a moment; his round face contorted into a blend of confusion and resignation before he turned back into the office. With that, I slowly backed away, maintaining my carefully cultivated smile.

As I walked back toward the restaurant, I could feel the pull growing stronger; the invisible thread once again pulling me inexorably toward its source. My pulse quickened with a blend of curiosity and anticipation, though my exterior remained a mask of pristine composure.

I made my way through the familiar halls; my thoughts fixated on the woman.

Claire Bailey.

I let the name repeat in my mind, feeling tingles crawl across my skin every time, growing in intensity.

When I approached the host’s table once more, I let a smile slip onto my lips, the kind that held just enough warmth to be genuine yet cold enough to maintain control. I straightened my suit jacket, smoothing the fabric with practiced precision, and adjusted my cufflinks, the subtle click of metal against metal grounding me in the moment.

“Right this way, Sir. I made sure no one touched your table,” Vin said, his voice steady and professional as he outstretched his arm toward the dining room. I let my gaze sweep across the room, my senses attuned to the elusive fragrance of Claire that lingered in the air.

As we moved toward my usual secluded corner table, I stopped Vin with a subtle gesture, my attention fixated on the table adjacent to Claire’s. “Actually, Vin, I’d like to sit at table sixteen,” I said, my voice smooth and deliberate. My eyes remained locked on the table beside hers, a point of focus that I could not ignore.

Vin’s brow furrowed. “Sir, are you sure? It is not nearly as private or quiet as you typically prefer.”

“Oh yes, I am quite sure,” I replied, injecting a note of casual assurance into my tone, careful to mask any trace of eagerness. “I want to be able to overhear what our guests might be saying about the restaurant or the hotel. It could provide valuable insight.”

Vin nodded, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he masked it with professional compliance. “Absolutely, Sir. I will show you to your table.”

Each step I took was guided by an undercurrent of dark anticipation, a silent obsession that grew with every breath. The dining room seemed to blur into the background, the chatter and clinking of glasses fading as I focused on the enigmatic presence that had drawn me into this intricate dance. The cool, calculated maneuvering of the evening masked a deeper, more unsettling hunger, one that had taken hold of me with an almost primal intensity.

Vin guided me through the bustling dining room, Claire’s aroma growing stronger with each step we took. It enveloped me like a velvet chain, both irresistible and suffocating. When we reached table sixteen, I took the seat with my back against the wall for the perfect vantage point. I settled into the chair, making sure to position myself just so, ensuring that I could observe her unobtrusively.

Her presence wrapped around me like an invisible embrace. I could almost feel it tracing the contours of my mind, stirring something deep and primal within me. She held her menu in front of her face as if she were studying it with intensity. The menu served as a subtle shield that allowed me to breathe deeply. I clenched my fists beneath the table, struggling to maintain control, to keep my focus sharp and my composure intact.

As I studied her, every detail sank in. Her choice of dress was low enough to be inviting, yet demure enough to remain professional. My eyes settled on her chest just beneath the menu, watching the rise and fall of each breath she took. Her chestnut brown hair fell in thick, gentle waves, cascading just past her collarbone. Candlelight illuminated the delicate, pale skin of her arm as it rested on the tabletop. My mind wandered as I imagined what her skin would feel like if I extended my arm just far enough to caress her hand.

Would she snap her hand back…or let me pull her across the separation between us and into my lap?

As Claire set her menu down with a soft sigh, her attention shifted toward the host stand. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Her eyes, a deep and mesmerizing green flecked with gold that danced in the candlelight, met mine for a fleeting moment. In that brief exchange, time seemed to dissolve into an infinite pause. The sensation was profoundly disorienting. It was as if the world had narrowed to nothing but her presence.

I clenched my fists under the table once more, fighting to maintain my composure as my breath came in shallow, measured pulls. A soft gasp escaped my lips, a reaction I could not entirely mask. Quickly, I lifted the menu to my face, using it as a shield to conceal my involuntary reaction. My mind raced, grappling with the intense emotions flooding through me. I closed my eyes briefly, forcing a controlled breath through my nose, trying to regain my focus.

Oh, Claire. The things I would do to you. The things I would do for you.

If you had any idea, you would run away this very second.

But that cannot happen.

No.

I continued to watch her with intense scrutiny, noting the way her manicured fingers lightly traced the menu as it sat in front of her. There was a subtle tension about her, a vulnerability that intrigued me, drawing me further into the web of her presence. I could sense her mounting nervousness and a faint hint of fear, worsened by Antonio’s absence. I knew that the longer he stayed away, the more those emotions would compound.

Would she recognize me the way I recognized her?

I cleared my throat, my voice smooth and composed despite the tumult within. I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the menu, avoiding direct eye contact as I spoke. “I recommend the merlot.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her head snap toward me.

“Excuse me?” she asked.