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That image—her fiery eyes growing black and dim—returned to haunt him again and again. Mostly on his birthday. Or the anniversary of that painful event—Christmas Eve.
It was a chapter he had closed and buried. And yet, here he was—far from the boy who gave zero fucks about anything was back for another round.
Finally, the door opened. His gaze locked on hers. The years had been kind. Her hair was upswept, her cheeks full of color, and her eyes, bright and alive. Her once dark hair now had the slightest hints of gray. The only thing changed was her smile. It had finally appeared.
“Alex,” she sighed, smiling. “It’s so good of you to come.”
“Hello, Stassi,” he greeted cautiously, his voice clipped.
Her eyes, as intense and unpredictable as ever, always had a way of boring straight into his soul. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered. A hand to his cheek, she asked, “Have you missed me?”
Alex’s heart constricted in his chest, his mind grappling with a flood of memories and unanswered questions.
He simply replied, “Yes.”
CHAPTER21
ALEX
“Iwant to meet her, Alex.” Stassi’s words were cool and calm. It was how she always was—a stronghold of venom poised for a silent strike.
“Not happening.” Alex let his spoon glaze the surface of the soup, not in the mood for her games. Still, he had to play them. So many questions. So few clues.
He sat down to dinner like a good little boy, furious on the inside, sedate to the world. Having a meal with her was the last thing she wanted, but she refused to utter a word unless he did.
Alex glanced at his watch, and then around the room. A chill creeping up his spine. The atmosphere was eerie, as if time had stood absolutely still, down to the minutest detail. An old clock adorned one wall, its hands frozen in time, a silent testament to the passage of years.
His eyes then fell upon a large mirror, its surface marred by hairline cracks. It appeared to be an antique, likely hundreds of years old, yet there wasn’t a speck of dust on its frame or the surrounding furniture. The pristine condition of the room was unsettling, as if it had been meticulously maintained despite its age.
As he walked closer to the mirror, a shiver ran down his spine. He couldn’t help but wonder about the stories this room held, the secrets whispered within its walls. It seemed to hold a lingering presence, a sense of history that transcended time itself.
Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that he was an intruder in this forgotten realm, peering into a world that existed beyond the present. Or perhaps that was just the fact that his Wi-Fi had been severed from the moment he stepped inside.
“Don’t you like it?” Stassi asked, her voice sweet and unfamiliar in that way. “It used to be your favorite.”
She was right.Potage Parmentier, or potato leek soup. It’s old school—nourishing and hearty, made with simple ingredients to providing warmth to the body and comfort to one’s soul.
He stared at her, challenge in his eyes. “How do I know it’s not poisoned?”
Her giggle cracked the air, echoing across the room. “You really don’t know?” Her eyes challenged his, as she rang the bell. “Always so dramatic, Alex.”
A servant appeared. “Yes, ma’am.”
“We need a fresh spoon,” she insisted. He left, and returned, holding it up, but clearly uncertain what to do with it.
She pointed to Alex. “Taste his soup.”
The servant did as she requested, and Alex watched with interest. This was now the fifth servant he’d encountered, impeccably dressed, seemingly sane.
As the servant cautiously sampled the soup, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. Alex’s nerves were on edge, his eyes fixed on the man’s reaction.
“Is there something wrong with it?” the servant asked, his voice betraying a mix of apprehension.
Stassi, seated directly across from Alex, remained composed, her eyes meeting his with an enigmatic gaze. “Would you prefer something else?” she inquired, her tone casual yet laced with intrigue.
It was the dance they always did. A relentless tug-of-war for his mind…his heart…his desires. Every concession he made to her would only serve to betray him. Every secret she unraveled would become another weapon in her hands—another piece of him she’d destroy.
The tension in the room thickened, and Alex’s patience wore thin. “No,” he replied tersely, his irritation simmering beneath the surface.
