When The Night Falls (The Night, #1)

§3. That's More Like It

His bold reply took me aback. I hadn't anticipated that he would be so direct, but I couldn't deny that it was strangely refreshing. Suddenly I grew nervous. My heart started pounding.

'Well . . .' I drew in a deep breath, mustering courage. 'You got what you wanted – something original.'

His lips tucked into a smile. 'Without a doubt. Is your name as original as your personality, though?'

The astute method he employed as he made a third attempt to fish out my name impressed me. He was obviously a cunning man, so I reminded myself to practise caution. All the same, it amused me that he wasn't one to give up.

A vague smile nested on my mouth as I shook my head. 'I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint.'

'How so? It's not Electra, is it?'

I couldn't suppress the giggle that escaped my lips, because the reference was remarkably shrewd. Electra was, in some ways, Oedipus' female counterpart. William had clearly read his fair share of Greek tragedies, too.

Momentarily inspired by the current theme, I decided to lie. I wasn't naïve enough to trust him on a whim, so I didn't feel like giving him my real name. Besides, he hadn't proved himself remotely deserving.

'No, but you're not far from it, actually. It stems from Greek.'

'Really?' He looked intrigued.

'Yeah. Name's Cassandra, but everyone calls me Sandra.' I was incredibly amused at my own ingenuity. By choosing that name, I had sort of given him my real one. He only had to cut out the middle and he would end up with Cara, but I doubted he would ever realise that.

'Sandra,' he echoed with a nod. 'Well, I'm William, as you may have already gathered, but you can call me Will.'

'Or Oedipus. Tomato tomato.'

Amusement twinkled in his eyes. 'So you're a fan of Sophocles and Greek tragedies, then? Or are you merely a disciple of dear Mr Freud?'

His evident intellect irritated me somewhat because it led me to like him more than I wanted to. He was retaliating with precisely the same sense of humour and with force equal to my own. It wasn't often that I encountered people who could keep up with my sharp wit, but this man seemed to be up to the task. Despite his lack of affability, he clearly stored a quick and well-functioning brain behind that annoyingly handsome face.

I was still contemplating whether to reply when Philip interjected, 'Here you go, Miss,' and presented two lush cocktails. 'An espresso martini and a gin and tonic.'

'Thank you.' I was about to grab them when William beat me to it.

'I'll give you a hand,' he said as an explanation.

'I've got two already. Three aren't required, as you can see.'

He chuckled. 'You've got quite the witty mouth, haven't you?'

'Well, at least one of us has got some wit,' I said. 'Poor man can't even count right.'

William shook his head but persisted in carrying my drinks away. With a pout on my face, I trailed after him. How had it come to this? I hadn't meant to attract him earlier. Had I known my insult would prove so counterproductive, I'd have bitten my tongue.

'Andy,' he called and jerked his head in the direction of Olivia's lonely figure. Surprise flashed across Andrew's face. His brown eyes widened as he stood up from his seat.

When I fixed my gaze on Olivia, I found her smirking. The sight elicited a groan from my mouth. Unlike Andrew, she wasn't the least bit surprised, and I didn't appreciate it, because it spoke of her expectations of me.