Page 18 of Cloud Storm

I don’t need to speak softly, but doing so gives us a sense of intimacy that I didn’t know was necessary.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs back.

His eyes look at me intensely, his usual frown in place, but this one feels different than that time in the bank.

He looks at me as if I were a puzzle, one with hundreds of small pieces that are difficult to assemble.

Welcome to the club, Suit. The feeling is mutual, I don’t understand you either.

“I was heading back home, there’s been enough excitement for one night.”

Like Cinderella at the ball.

I better leave before my clothes turn into rags.

I want to go. No, I don’t want to, but I need to get away, escape.

He doesn’t let me.

“I’m walking you home.” He’s ordering me around, telling me what is going to happen.

It’s a warning.

Suit does not ask permission.

Well, he is the king.

He has no need to ask.

“That’s not necessary, that guy has left now,” I protest.

“But he won’t be far away,” he argues back. “Do you want him to realize our lie and follow you home?”

My heart beats frantically at the possibilities flashing through my mind. I shake my head in response. I hadn’t thought about it, but of course I don’t want that guy following me anywhere.

I close my eyes, so I can no longer see the Suit, but there’s something about Lancelot Hills, something that pulls me.

I thought he was shallow, but I’m just discovering that there’s more to this man than first meets the eye. Something that I want but shouldn’t risk taking.

Like the curse of the pharaoh’s coffin.

He doesn’t need me to show him the way to my place. With the confidence that only a man like him can have, he accompanies me to the stairs and from there along the hallway to my house.

“Well, this is my door,” I say when I get there.

He says nothing, just nods, while looking closely at something on my face.

“You have a freckle right here, next to your mouth,” he murmurs, gently stroking it using only the tips of his fingers.

“Yeah… I do.” Why does my voice sound so breathless?

“Ariel,” he says, bringing his face close to mine.

A part of me melts at his closeness, at his minty breath, at his heat.

On the other hand, my defenses stand strong.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t escaped from one molester to surrender to another.”

---