Black Blood. Dyvina Sollena
I brought the stack to my chest and squeezed it with both hands.
I saw Sebastian grin, he lifted his arm and ran his fingers through his hair, adjusting the shiny black tuft. It reminded me of a crow's feather.
«Very well», he observed looking at the ceiling.
«I wanted to apologize for last night», I said catching back again his attention.
I was pierced by his mysterious eyes, then his mocking smile appeared again. He looked at the corridor that we both should have walked.
«Would you walk me out?» he asked me pointing the way as a gentleman.
It was the perfect occasion for having a chat.
He was a snob with too much self-esteem, aware of the power he wielded and convinced that with money he could have bought everything. People included. This was the idea I had made of him by observing his attitudes and his behaviors. Nonetheless, there was something in him that tickled my stomach, distracting me and sending me into confusion.
«Let's go», I said showing him the way
«You can also leave those papers here. I know you don't need them», he hissed passing by and overcoming me in a few strides.
I was shaken by a tremble of anger. I threw the stack on the ground, weathering the temptation of throwing it at him.
«How insolent!» I muttered to myself as I was picking up my pace to catch up with him again.
«What brings you in town?» I asked right before turning the corner.
The second-floor ward turned to look at us. I could feel everyone's eyes pinching my skin.
But he didn't seem to care at all about what was happening around, perhaps he hadn't even noticed how much the tones had subsided upon our arrival, there was only a background buzz of chatter and gossips.
«Business: you know, this place is mine, Rebecca», he replied haughtily, turning in my direction.
Of course, I do, you boor.
I answered in my mind biting my tongue.
It was only thanks to Winterbournes' money that a small village like Hazycreek could boast the presence of such a renowned and avant-garde, although modestly sized, editorial board.
I looked at him closely, a tingle in my thighs made me flare up.
Why did I think him that way?
What was happening to me?
Concentration and professionalism. He is going to be your article.
I recited in my mind like a mantra.
Sebastian was only a means to my ultimate goal.
«Your presence here is something extremely rare. You don't often show around», I teased him ready to embed any response from him.
Sebastian let out an amused snort.
His presumption made me nervous, but I couldn't look at him without feeling somehow intrigued.
«This is what happens when people fear who is stronger than them», his answer was brief and chilling, I remained silent in an attempt to understand its true meaning.
We reached the elevator; I pressed the door opener and in a short time that metal box welcomed us inside.
«What are you working on?» he went on turning a little in my direction, without realizing I imitated him, we found ourselves face to face and my heart sped up.
«On the Weather case. Sullivan wants an article as soon as possible.»
«Do you think this is my family's doing?»
He got straight to the point without dancing around.
He surprised me; I never expected such frankness.
I was afraid of not being able to handle that situation and I would have had to arm myself with all the will in my possession in order to reach the target without allowing myself any distraction.
Who knows why it was so difficult for me.
Sebastian was disarming. He had an elegant bearing, refined features, a persuasive charisma and lots, lots of charm.
And I felt weak in front of him. His every gesture, every word that was coming out of that perfect mouth, intrigued me, unleashed daring thoughts, uncontrolled emotions.
All this, confused me.
«No, maybe I'm the only one in town who doesn't think so», I replied just as direct.
Suddenly I found myself stuck against the elevator wall.
He forced me to back away without noticing his sudden movement.
He lifted one harm and placed his hand against the metal sheet, he touched my head, imprisoning some of my tufts of hair under his fingers. He observed me with those contrasting eyes of his: one of an angel and one of a demon. He lowered himself on me and put his mouth to my ear. He was towering over me.
«Maybe you are wrong», whispered caressing my neck with his cold breath.
I winced.
Why does he have this effect on me?
He wanted to scare me, why on earth feeding those rumors?
He was playing a part, the one that the dogmas of the past had attributed to the Winterbournes.
He wouldn’t fool me.
I placed my palms against his chest, it seemed so solid and resistant that I had to take a breath of air before being able to push it. He barely raised, but he didn’t move from there.
«Maybe not», I pressed pushing him again.
An acoustic sound announced the doors opening. The entrance hall revealed in front of us.
Sebastian composed himself as if nothing had happened, adjusted his shirt’s collar and took the road to the exit.
I followed him worried about the consequences of this unexpected situation.
«You have always been a rebel, Rebecca», he declared ready to tease me again.
I became suspicious.
«We don’t even know each other.»
«I remember you since you were a baby. We always went to the same schools, and like everyone else, you kept me distant.»
Sharp, cutting words came out of his mouth. Stinging daggers, hitting me in one side.
I almost felt guilty.
Sebastian remembered me and the first memory that came to his mind was the worst. I too had contributed to his marginalization from Hazycreek's life.
Not that he was looking for someone's company, in fact he had that slightly snobbish attitude since he was a child. He always looked bored and absent, as if nothing stimulated his attention and didn't deem anyone worthy of even a glance.
However, since I was a child, I had always observed him in secret. I found him interesting and his eyes intrigued me.
The thing that baffled me the most, however, was the fact that he really remembered me. We weren't even the same age. He knew I was a reporter for Hazy Daily, and that I didn't have a dog.
I wondered if he studied everyone so scrupulously.
We went outside.
A luxurious black car was parked a stone's throw from the front door.
«You always seemed so disinterested», I stated controlling my voice.
He rummaged in his trouser pockets and pulled out an electronic key.
«And you had anarchist blood. You loved swimming against the tide and I am glad to discover you haven't changed that much.»
The car's headlights came on and I