Grey Skies, White Lies - Larina | [COMPLETE]

Chapter 21 | Filthy Habits.

"Can I get you a drink?" Steve offered, pulling the stool out for me, though I was perfectly capable of doing so myself.

"Just water, please." I replied, I didn't fancy becoming intoxicated tonight, in any way, shape or form.

"Are you sure? Not even a glass of fine, red wine? They do a beautiful Rosé here..." He began, but I interrupted him. "No, thanks." I said, remaining politely composed.

"Water it is then." He said before turning to the barman and ordering it, along with a glass of fine red wine for himself.

"What's this all about?" I plucked up the courage to ask as I observed his navy-silk suit shimmer in the lighting illuminated from the bar.

The barman handed us our drinks as Steve pondered on the question, sipping his wine, keeping me waiting. He definitely had a power drive, he liked it best when he was in control.

"I suppose you could call it an inquiry." He replied, hovering around the question, keeping me waiting.

"I'm listening." I assured, sipping my water as I tried to sustain eye contact with him, it was proving difficult. His intimidating glare induced my heart rate, my gut instincts seemingly proving right about him all along.

"Ever heard the phrase 'sleeping with the boss gets you to the top overnight' that kinda thing?" He asked, proceeding to glare at me as my face dropped.

"Y-yes." I stuttered, successfully intimidated.

"I'm not asking you to sleep with me." He announced, laughing slightly, almost to portray himself to be the saviour, as if lifting me of a compulsory chore.

I tensed, I knew there was something malicious emerging behind this 'good deed'.

He began to go off on a tangent, talking about money, power, and the glory that comes with it. I nodded as his words hit my skin like the ice cold, he was bitter.

"I've seen the way you are with each other." He concluded, nodding slowly as he took another long, sensual sip of his red wine.

"Who?" I asked, though I knew exactly where this was going.

"You and Lana." He replied, the word 'Lana' causing a drop to my stomach, snapping me back to reality - this was the future of my music career I was dealing with here. The career I so very craved.

"What about us..." I pressed, again, already expecting the nature of response I received.

"Friends of your age don't hold hands, do they, Marina?" He said, raising his eyebrows and lowering his eyes, another successful attempt to intimate me.

"What are you getting at?" I asked, slightly breaking my cool as my heart-rate raised.

"I think you know what I'm getting at." He responded, intensifying the conversation. I never have been one for entertaining 'guessing-games' but I couldn't let him win.

"Enlighten me." I replied, wittily, an attempt to play him at his own poisonous game.

"I don't suppose you and Lana would mind showing me a little bit of whatever you get up to, would you? Especially considering I pay for the flat you live in, you rely on me." He said, a mysterious tone carrying his voice, pressurising also.

I shifted. I had no idea what to say. "Why?" I innocently asked.

"I've been so good to you both, you want me to keep on being good to you, I'm sure..." He explained, sipping his seemingly everlasting wine.

"I've got to go-" I began but was cut off by Steve placing his hand on my thigh, forcefully but with a juxtaposed gentleness about it. "Just a while longer, Marina." He said, softly yet still managed to show authority, I hated the way he said my name. The way it left his tongue so carefully, as if he'd been cradling it for a long while.

I stayed seated, feeling his beady eyes analyse each and every detail of me, absorbing the placement of the freckles upon my face by pinpoint.

"Have a think about it, ay darling? Don't you want this career badly enough..." He suggested, an attempt to provoke me as he got under my skin.

"Of course I do." I assured, adjusting to the nature of the conversation, the sudden realisation that Steve has control of mine and Lizzy's lives hitting me. Though it wasn't ideal, the last thing I wanted was to make a wrong move.

He searched through his blazer pocket, pulling out a two cigarettes and a lighter. "You smoke?" He asked, the ellison of his sentence just confirming the informality of this 'meeting' - not that I needed it to.

I had smoked occasionally, in the past, nothing casual though. My Dad always told me it was his filthiest habit, and he had a few of those.

"I don't." I replied, declining the offer of a cigarette before he could speak it.

"Good. Fucks your vocals up." He patronised, placing the cigarette between his teeth and standing up to pull his coat over his shoulders. "And about that offer..." He inquired, lowering his eyes and narrowing them so they were focused harshly on me.

"Let me know." He concluded, squeezing my inner thigh before turning around and leaving the bar.