Just like he's been doing since the moment he came here, Mr. Sinister meets my gaze shamelessly, and I'm the one who ends up looking away while my rapidly-beating-heart feels like it's about to fly out of my chest.
Am I reading too much here or am I allowed to think he fancies me, even just a little?
I know he's way out of my league, and I still feel like he's a walking red flag that I'm better off avoiding.
But...
Just thinking about him makes me feel tipsy, and while I know the sensible thing to do right now is to have someone else serve him his glass of iced tea—-
"Here you are." My voice rattles at the end, and my fingers shake similarly as I place the cold glass of iced tea on the table.
"Thank you."
"Do you, um, need anything else?"
It's a totally innocent question. I swear. But when heat suddenly blazes from his gaze, I realize how the words can mean something else, and my senses flutter.
"As a matter of fact, yes."
I wait and hold my breath. Will he ask my number? Or maybe ask what time my shift ends? Or—-
"Come away with me tonight."
What?
"I promise you'll come to no harm."
WHAT?
"Come with me."
The words are no longer a request. There's no mistaking the authority infused in his voice, and how stupid is it that I'm even more tempted to do as he says?
"You know you want to."
It makes me feel guilty and ashamed, but as soon as I hear Mr. Sinister say the words, I know it's true. I want him to take me away. I want to do whatever he wants me to do.
But while I've long accepted my many eccentricities, even I know that trusting a stranger to take me away is too much.
Father has always taught me to listen to my heart and ignore the noise that the rest of the world makes. But this one time, I think the world has got it right, and so I force myself to step back and whisper, "I'm sorry."
Mr. Sinister stares at me, and my heart aches. Am I imagining things again, or was that truly bleakness I saw flash in his gaze?
Another heartbeat of silence passes, and then he says softly, "I'm sorry, too."
I never look at him after that while Mr. Sinister never stops watching me. I never thought trying to ignore someone would physically exhaust me, but it does. Only an hour has passed, but I'm completely beat, and I'm forced to ask Tyler for a favor. "Can you cover my last two hours?"
"Yeah sure. You do look a little pale," he comments with a frown. "Maybe you should take a cab home—-"
"I think I just have one of those weird headaches that come and go." I untie the apron strings around my wrist and flash him a grateful smile. "I owe you one for this."
He waves me away. "Go."
I change out of my uniform and slip away through the service door at the back. The night air is chilly, but I barely notice it. I was really hoping the walk back home would help clear my mind, but I just find myself thinking of him more, and in a way that's not appropriate.
He had asked me to come away with him, and the words, crazy as they may be, also sound dreamy and dangerous, romantic and risky. It's also a very Mr. Sinister-ish thing to say, and the thought makes my lips twitch in spite of everything.
If only he isn't so out of my league, and he didn't sound so, well, insanely sinisterly, I would have loved to know what exactly he meant by those words. There's just something about him that I can't quite put my finger on, and that something makes me want to—-
What was that?
My heartbeat jumps from sixty to two hundred beats per minute as my fingers tighten involuntarily around the pepper spray I have hidden in my hand. I think I'm being watched, but I force myself to keep my gaze ahead. If I make any sudden or telling movement, that might force whoever it is to also make a move.
The next few minutes seem to stretch like an eternity, and it's only when I safely make it back home that I allow myself to exhale, and I sink down to my knees in relief.
Oh, thank God.
It's one thing to have abduction fantasies. But it's another thing entirely to have someone stalk and kidnap you in real life, and I don't think I'd feel any differently even if my captor turns out to be someone as beautiful as Mr. Sinister.
I've been trying to figure out the entire night what about Mr. Sinister disturbs me, and I think I've finally hit the nail on the head. When girls like me suddenly become the object of interest of men like Mr. Sinister, we usually either end up with broken hearts...or broken necks.