Belle Evans
-
"Damien?"
His eyes soften as he heard his name from my lips. "I'm surprise you haven't forgotten me after these three long years, Belle."
A rush of nostalgia hit me all at once when he said my name, and I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "How could I forget Lil Ian?"
He shook his head, chuckling softly. "You're the only person who can call me that."
I stepped closer to my childhood friend, until the only thing between us was the leather couch.
"How long have you've been in Seattle?" I asked leaning on the lavish furniture.
"Just a little under a year. I moved here right after grad school," he said grabbing another glass on the table which was laden in many french entrees. He motioned his head away from me, a silent command for me to occupy the empty space beside him.
"What... are you following me?" I joked as I received the glass.
He didn't laugh. He simply gave me a small smirk before take a sip of his glass. It was astounding how graceful he looked.
"Do you remember the day you told me you were going to Seattle?" he began. His voice was soft, as if recalling a deep memory. "You never told me your future plans, and so it... shocked me... that you left the day you told me."
The air went cold. I gulped. He didn't deny my question.
"Moving to Seattle was an impulse decisions. Besides, there's so much more here for me than Petaluma."
"But you left m— everything you known behind."
"And look at you," I said, looking at his expensive Ermenegildo Zegna suit. "You left Petaluma and now Lil Ian is the big owner of Boulevard des Rêves."
He raised his eyebrow. "You really don't watch the news do you."
I frowned in confusion at the sudden off-topic, but true statement. "I watch the news," I lied. "In fact, I watch it everyday."
"You probably use it for background noises."
I took a casual sip from the glass. He really hasn't change after three years. For as long as I've known him, he has always been cocky and hard to read. He'll say one thing, but his eyes says another. The worst part is that although you can't read Damien, he can read you.
"You really haven't change," he said, mimicking my movements as he also took a sip.
I chocked on the wine, causing him to chuckle. Did he just read my mind?
"When you lie, your emerald eye tends to look else where," he said as he wiped the side of my mouth with his sleeve. I would have thought more about his sudden gesture if I wasn't internally panicking at the though of staining his thousand dollar suit. "But, of course, that's not the only thing that hasn't changed. The way you played Chopin's Nocturnes was beautiful."
He fingered the end of my ponytail. "I miss hearing your sound."
I pushed his hands away and raised an eyebrow. "Well you know... I'm free every Friday night."
"Yeah?" he said, looking at his rejected hand.
"Maybe..." I began, watching that hand slide down my arm. It wasn't a forceful touch, but a simple caress.
Warm.
Dangerous.
Seductive.
"Maybe?" His voice became a soft whisper that sent shivers across my body.
I looked up, into his hungry amber eyes and gave him an innocent smile. "Maybe if you hire me, I can play at Boulevard des Rêves every Friday night."
His hand paused midway, touching my forearm. There was a few seconds of silence before he covered his mouth with his sleeve and tried to cover a laugh.
I gave him a confused expression which only lead to him laughing more.
"Are you using me to self-promote, Belle?" he said, smiling and shaking his head.
"I wouldn't say 'using.' It has such a negative connotation," I said sweetly.
"Then what would you call it?"
"I'm simply... negotiating."
Again he raised his eyebrow, wanting a better explanation, but when I only gave him an innocent smile, he sighed and sat down.
"If it's a negotiation you want, then how about this." He leaned back and stared right into my eyes. "I'll hire you to entertain... only if you have dinner with me after every performance."
"I think you misunderstood the purpose of a negotiation," I began as I sat next to him. "I get to play, get paid, and get free food whereas you listen to the same music you've heard since grade school?"
"Hmmm, you're right. That doesn't sound fair. How about..." I flinched at the touch of his hand on my thigh and felt my mouth go dry. "... I give you a ride home after our dinners?"
I sighed and move my thigh away from his warmth. "Lil Ian, I still don't believe you understand the concept."
"I don't think you understand how valuable your music is Belle. I'd pay anything for your music to be mine."
I though I saw something flicker in his eyes.
Dangerous.
If I knew one thing about Damien, is that he always gets whatever he wants.
After handing my glass to Damien, I let my hair down, releasing the tension, and leaned back onto the couch. I felt him watch me, tensely, as I ran my hair back.
"You're unbelievable," I said, remembering that this muscular, handsome man was once that little kid next door. I wasn't going to get seduce by this prick.
"I'm simply a man who likes to give, Belle." He smiled, purposely taking a sip from my glass.
He's initiating a dangerous game.
A game that I won't be participating.
-
"You can breathe Belle," Damien purred. He smirked from the driver seat, never looking my way.
"The air flowing through you're Lamborghini's probably cost more than my entire apartment," I groaned.
"Get use to it, you're going to be sitting in that seat from now on."
"I can take a taxi home Damien."
"Then why didn't you?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the road.
"Cause you took my purse hostage!"
He laughed. "Normally, a ride in my Lamborghini would be enough to get any girl into my bed."
I gave him a disgusted look, that made him laugh even more.
"Then what are we doing here? You can let me out now, and go get some girl off the street. Look..." I said as I point at some people on the street. "There's a beautiful blonde over there. A brunette. Light skin. Dark skin. Oh, and if you go the other way, there's a lovely guy right over there."
"Maybe I will... after I drop you off." He gave me a dirty smirk before continuing to watch the road.
I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. This prick really hasn't change one bit. He's still the same self-centered jerk from seventeen years ago.
Seventeen years.
It's been that long.
I chuckled softly. "It's really been seventeen years Damien. You've surely gone a long way from that quiet, little Petaluma boy genius."
He smiled softly, not removing his eyes on the road. "Ironically, you're still the same mindless, carefree music addict."
I smiled, but it didn't match my eyes.
He's right. I moved to Seattle for new opportunities and yet, three years later, I haven't progress at all. Damien on the other had hasn't been here for more than a year and he's already accomplish more than I could ever have.
I sighed, staring at the blurred, lined lights of the passenger window as we moved further away from the city scene.
"I really haven't changed," I whispered underneath my breathe.
All I want to do is play the piano.
"That isn't a bad thing," Damien said, matching my soft whisper.
I turned only to find his amber eyes on mine. His face was illuminated by the street lamp in front of my apartment building.
"Don't change," he whispered.
I felt my lips slightly part, and I instantly closed it.
"Thank you for the ride, Damien," I smiled, getting out of the car.
His passionate eyes continue on me. I had his full attention. "Good night, Belle."
"Night," I said and closed the door of his red, vibrant Lamborghini.
My warm breathe was apparent as I walked into the cold night towards my apartment lobby.
Icy.
Frozen.
Intense.
But no matter how cold, I still felt the burning of his amber eyes upon me.
I felt it.
His unconditional security.
His inscrutable desire.
His dangerous obsession.
It was my mistake to ignore it.