Page 38 of Whispers of Fire

Reaching over me, his arms brushing mine, he grabs the notebook and the pen.

“C’mon, shoot.” I’m surprised by his gesture. He doesn’t look like an open book; why would he be okay with me knowing things about him?

“What do you do at the club?” I write and hand over to him.

As Vox turns towards me, I'm totally focused on his reaction. His expression shifts subtly as he reads it, eyes flickering with indecision. It's like he's not sure about letting me in on a part of himself.

I'm holding my breath, waiting anxiously for his reply, unable to look away from him. I can feel the conflict inside him, torn between wanting to share with me and wanting to protect himself.

Then, something changes. I see it in the way he straightens his shoulders and the determined look on his face.

“I’m the vice-president of the club. I deal with our men, make sure orders are followed and shipment arrives on time. I also negotiate with other… clubs and take care of the different issues we can have with some, hum, individuals.”

Vox's words sink in, and I watch as he suddenly avoids eye contact.

That’s strange.

I can't shake the feeling that there's more to the story than he's letting on, like he's afraid to tell me what he really does.

“Like a manager?” I write.

“Not really, Angel.” He runs a hand over his chocolate hair, as if he didn’t know how to explain it to me. I bite my lip, trying to read his expression for any hint of the truth. His eyes, usually so warm and inviting, now seem guarded, almost distant.

No, I didn’t want this…

It's like there's a wall between us now. A wall I’m determined to break through. As if he could feel my uncertainty, he sighs, his large rough hand covering mine on the countertops, making my belly filled with butterflies.

“Truth is, Rose, I’m not a good man. Far from it. The things I do… they should never come close to an angel like ya.”

I frown.

Why would he say that?

He’s only been good to me since the day I met him. Writing with my other free hand, I shake my head and hope that he will understand my humor, perhaps that will manage to break his walls. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, it’s not like I will say it to someone else.”

Tightening his hold on my hand, he shakes his head, warmth coming back into his eyes and a smile tugging at his lips.

“Rose, Rose, Rose,” he says, like a prayer, his eyes slowly drifting to my lips. I shrug one shoulder, smiling back at him. Pushing slightly back in his stool and leaving my hand, he gestures something to me.

My jaw drops on the floor.

What?

What did he just do?

Did Vox just sign something to me?

Vox

The look on her face is priceless as I sign “ You are beautiful ” one more time, hoping she got what I was tryin’ to say. I’m about to ask her if she understood when I suddenly see her eyes filling with tears, her lower lip trembling.

Shit, what did I do?

“Angel? C’mon, come here,” I say, standing and reaching for her, surrounding her with my arms, hoping it will appease her tears. I’ve never really been sensitive to people's emotions before, especially with the amount of men ending up practically dead in front of me, begging for their lives. It has become so common that I’m surprised by how Rose gets to me. How she carries her emotions on her face, like a book she opened for me to access, somethin’ precious she’s allowing me to see.

Did I do somethin’ wrong signin’ to her?

I wanted to show her that she didn’t have to do all the work and that I could learn sign language for her. After watching a few videos last night when she was sleeping, I learnt a few things.

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