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Hate. This must be how extreme hate feels like.
It consumes and destroys you from the inside like a stage five cancer.
He pulls back as fast as he leaned down. I release a breath I didn’t realise I was holding.
“Kidnapping or breakfast in a coffee shop.” He deadpans. “What’s your move?”
No. It’s his move. Even when he provides options, he makes sure the outcome works in his favour.
This level of cunning can belong to the criminally insane, but Aiden isn’t just insane. He’s highly intelligent and he knows it.
Hell, he’s so assertive about it that it’s disturbing.
If he weren’t wealthy and young, what type of monster would he be?
Probably the century’s most notorious serial killer.
I hold the backpack to my chest like a shield and step out of the car. If I’m starting my dance with the devil, I might as well do it now.
Aiden offers me his golden boy smile as he locks his car.
I hate that smile.
It’s the fake one he gives to everyone else. I already had a glimpse of what he truly is, so he might as well stop the pretence around me.
Judging from the granite walls and the ancient feel the outside gives, I expected the coffee shop to be antique.
My expectations are smashed when we step inside.
The walls are covered in a pastel green wallpaper and the tables are in a smooth brownish colour. A few black and white motivational quotes hang from the ceilings.
The decor is soothing and the atmosphere is… cosy, to say the least.
A few patrons are scattered about, but Aiden doesn’t take any of the available tables. He places a hand at the small of my back. A weird awareness coils beneath my skin, and I flinch at the contact.
He guides me up hidden stairs with pastel green and white steps. There’s only a man facing the huge glass window.
He appears in his mid-forties, wears a crisp white shirt and reads from a newspaper while sipping from his coffee.
Aiden leads me to one of the tables with a cushion.
I slide inside, expecting Aiden to sit across from me.
And surprise, he doesn’t meet expectations.
He plants himself right beside me. The distance between us is so minuscule, I can feel his body heat and smell his clean, toxic scent.
Damn his scent.
I purse my lips against the protest itching to be set free. If I tell him to change positions, he’ll do the exact opposite. Hell, he’ll go above and beyond to make my skin crawl.
He places his elbow on the table and leans his head against his palm as he watches me with a smirk.
“What?” I snap.
“You’re so expressive, it’s adorable.”
“And you’re not.”
