IMPORTANT: Before writing the actual chapter, I just want to make sure that everyone knows I’m NOT objectifying anyone in this book – especially the women in the book. By incorporating the club scenes, I’m not saying women are just for pleasure (which is highly offensive and enraging) but I’m hopefully expressing that it’s okay for a women to show her sexuality and nudity without being slut-shamed. Hopefully no one has been too offended with those scenes in the last few chapters (particularly the first chapter).
Copyright 2012 – All Rights Reserved.
Chapter 4
Waking up with a headache on another rainy day was something that Alexander had not planned.
Waking up with a burning flame in his chest and throat while splayed out on his back in his spare room wasn’t something he planned either.
Groaning, Alexander sat up and ran a hand through his mess of dark locks. He frowned, looking down to see an empty bottle of liquor was curled around one of his large hands. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced around the room, vision blurring slightly.
Alexander’s eyes widened, his grogginess and blurry vision dissipating rapidly as he looked around more closely.
Mess.
The room was a mess. Granted, he was in his house, in his spare room, surrounded by his own things – but he realized that the mess was a result of his demon’s actions. The demon was quiet in his heart, he again realized, but the damage of the previous night left scars in the room. The paper on the walls were torn into shreds; long scratches were left on the leather chairs, cutting into the stuffing underneath; and stains from what he smelled of similar to liquor were dotted on various places of the dark carpet. Glass from a portion of the window on the left side of the room scattered around the stained carpet, allowing large gusts of wind and rain water to travel into the room, his beige curtains fleeing away from the gusts of wind expertly. But there were no other signs of liquor bottles present in room, allowing relief to seep into his body.
Yet, it was still a mess.
It was if his demon had completely taken control over his poor soul, as if he just let the demon roam free and smash any obstacle in his way the previous night. He could imagine his eyes turning into bleak, obsidian black as his demon usurped his body, tearing through the hard flesh on his back and chest, pulling him out of reality and into a world of anger. He could imagine the swirls of rage that would pool into his brain, swirls of rage that had been evident in his fits of rage and killing so many times before.
Small inklings of the previous night’s occurrences flashed in Alexander’s head, the impact causing a headache to form. He groaned, slumping back onto the floor before placing a hand on his throbbing head. The bottle of liquor rolled over to the other side of the room, and he watched it go, listening intently to the small clinking of the bottle as it hit the askew objects along the way. The sound of its knocking rang in his ears, causing his eyes to shut tight as he replayed what he remembered happened yesterday.
Fifteen minutes had passed since the little scene.
Fifteen minutes and he was still sitting in his leather chair, his zipper undone and his eyes open as he looked up at the ceiling in wonder. Not in wonder at what happened – not this time, no – but wonder at how exactly he had gotten himself into such a position. A position that required more so his sanity and patience rather than his actual background knowledge on business; a position that got him to where he was sitting right there, staring up at the maroon tinted ceiling.
What in the hell was he going to do? He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t figure out how he got from one strong point in his life to another, one that gave him no strength to get up every day and no longer required his skills from the Air Force. Go figure.
He was so lost in wonder; the only thing that he was acutely aware of was the smell of cinnamon still present in the air -- which he could sense. It was as if the mystery woman left behind a gift for him, an apology for leaving him as well as a present to acknowledge her.
Eyebrows furrowing, Alexander clenched his jaw. He had been played yet again, but by a different woman this time. Just how long would those two keep doing this to him? It had only happened twice, he understood, but the scorching effect of their lips and fingertips left him wanting to beg on his knees for more. Their touch, different from any others he had ever stumbled across, felt like silk wrapping around his arms, his legs, his stomach, his everything. The sizzling snaps of electricity that shot through their skin and seeped onto his whenever they had touched him, their enticing scents that they always carried with them whenever they played with him: he wanted more of it. He was both pleased and angry with that molten lava effect: slightly pleased that they had the power to do that to him out of all people, yet angry that they did it and left him behind to want for more.
He quickly got up, his hands fumbling to zip his pants zipper when the scent of cinnamon was still alive in the room. He came to the conclusion that he wasn’t as angry this time, not when he knew that they would both come back to taste him again; and that’s when he would catch them red handed.
Another knock on the door sounded just as he finished adjusting his raging rod, which clearly was not as easy as it looked. He sat back down quickly, hiding his erection under his desk just as one of his female employees walked over to his desk.
“Evening, sir.” She greeted, giving him a once over, eyebrows raised as her eyes flitted over his rumpled shirt and messy curls.
It looked as if his messy appearance did not surpass anyone as well as he thought it did.
“What?” He snapped, causing the woman’s eyes to widen and shift on her feet quickly. Pulling out a large file from the voluminous stack she had weighing down in her arms, she plopped it down onto his desk.
Alexander frowned, looking down at the file for a moment before letting his orbs wander to the retreating woman that was already walking towards his office door, her back to him.
“Who sent this?” He called to her, halting her in her tracks. She turned around, her eyes still not making contact with his, only settling on looking through the stack of files held in her arms.
“Mrs. Gilles.” She muttered and turned back around to open the door, as if that name would solve anything. “Told me to tell you and whoever’s name is on that file to meet with her soon, or whenever she actually gets a chance, to go over some upcoming merger abou—“the sound of the door slamming shut drowned out the woman’s voice as she walked away.
He had sighed, running a hand through his hair. He did not want to be even in his office at that moment, let alone be working on a merger with some stranger that would most likely get on his nerves every step of the way. With a sigh, Alexander reluctantly opened the bulging folder to scan over the first page and find the awaiting name of the person that he would most likely be spending the rest of the week, or even month, with in his office.
Mira Lexington.
After that, everything was blank.
He could not remember how he had exactly gotten from that point in the office to where he was now; laying all sprawled out on his carpet. All knew was that, at some point in the night, his demon had taken over and brought him into the spare room. He didn’t remember if he left the office immediately after that to come home, if he went to the club and someone else drove him home, or if he just decided to get drunk alone at the office.
As he continued to muse upon different scenarios in his head, he came to realize another thing --something that he just took to noticing, but should have noticed when he first woke up with the burning in his chest.
Cinnamon and vanilla.
“Afternoon, Sir.” One of his employees purred, flashing Alexander a large smile as he walked past her desk. Alexander smiled at her, distinctly aware of her deep sigh and eager orbs traveling down his back as he swept past and made his way towards the elevator.
After spending about an hour in the same position that he woke up in that room, Alexander had felt a surge of determination to begin his day with a new start. He had gotten up from his place on the carpet and left that wretched room, quickly making his way into his bathroom to look at the mirror.
He looked awful; plain and simple. Stubble that wasn’t there the day before was now visible to him; a small stain from what he presumed, again, was liquor adorned the tips of his collar. His blue shirt was crinkled; the silk cloth crumpled into waves that didn’t wash away, even when Alexander smoothed his rough hands over them. His eyes were red, somewhat due to his demon’s ruthless play the night before and a small scar on the end of his left eyebrow revealed to his scrutinizing orbs. That and the sticky, shimmery substance that smelled like candy canes at the edge of his lower lip was something he almost looked over. He had swiped his finger over it, inspecting it as something resembling lip balm, merely shrugging it away in the end.
Eventually, after showering, shaving, and brushing his teeth, Alexander was back to smelling like usual: mint and aftershave. His eyes were no longer elucidating a watery red; his lungs were no longer burning like fire.
He was now standing in the dim lit elevator, watching as the floor numbers increased every few seconds. The drumming of his fingertips on the glazed, wooden walls caused a few heads in the elevator to turn his way. Some giving him amused looks, others merely ignoring his tall figure and furious tapping.
The slight ding caused him to drop his arm back, the fingers of his other hand rubbing his forehead as he sighed. He was supposed to be at his office by this time, but a steaming cup of black coffee from the fourth floor’s lounge was something far more appealing to him.
It was when Alexander looked up from the floor that he saw it.
The color itself was bright, brighter than the monotone blend of greys and dark blues that settled in the hall. The fluorescent lights from the ceiling reflecting upon each glossy, cherry strand of hair, essentially accentuating his inner fiery flames that seemed to erupt from the sight itself. Starting with the deep red roots on the top of the head, the waterfall like sight tumbled down into a blur of shadows, the shadows created by the blend of bland colors from the other workers’ attires. Smooth locks of cherry red curled into perfection; each small curl around the small head intertwined with another, creating various shades of flame red that reflected off the fluorescent light; each curl significantly similar, yet brought together to form a mass of red curls. His demon thumped his heart, itching to take over Alexander’s body to see the sight as well. The owner of the bright red curls was undistinguishable, for as soon as the glimpse of cherry locks appeared in his sight – as quick as it was gone.
Merely 10 seconds later, Alexander rushed out the elevator doors. His feet thudded across the floors as he walked quickly and swiftly through the busy hall, his tall form standing out from the rest. Determination seeped through his veins, rolling into his mind as he walked faster – almost on the brink of running. His black orbs wandered blindly at every angle of the room, searching and reaching and pleading for the waterfall of red curls to fall into his view. His heart was pounding in his throat, drumming a beat faster than the pace of his rapid feet.
Taking a turn at the end of the hall, Alexander stopped before the lounge room. He hesitated, his hand reaching towards the brass knob but stopping midway. Going forward would bring both expectancy and disappointment: hope and anticipation for the mass of curls, yet disappointment and betrayal for its lack of presence. Alexander groaned, tilting his head up towards the ceiling while shutting his eyes. Was he ready for such pain?
A soft sigh quietly echoed from behind the closed door, causing Alexander’s head to snap back down immediately. His hand reached for the brass knob once again, this time turning the cool knob carefully. His breathing was shallow, his heart beating a mile a minute. It was as if his body temperature decreased significantly, for goose bumps arose on his arms as quickly as he turned the knob.
The small click of the door opening slightly zoned him back to reality. Letting out a gust of breath, he pushed open the door slowly to reveal the lounge’s view.
Small couches, tables, seats, and a large presentation board filled the room; the walls painted a light green that shone even brighter as the sunlight streamed in and reflected off the floor. Even with the melodic, pleasing atmosphere, he couldn’t see any red. Alexander’s eyes narrowed, eyes wandering furiously as they bounced between each corner of the room. Gone.
Again.
He nearly groaned in agony, turning around quickly to storm out of there before he let his demon take over again; the heat inside his body the highest it’s ever been.
And he would have made it out the door, too, if he hadn’t seen the flash of red behind the slightly ajar door on the far opposite side of the room. He furrowed his brows, the debate over whether he should go towards the room fresh in his mind; to see whether this was reality or if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
He wouldn’t doubt it.
Still, he went forward just to see what it was. He knew he was an idiot, yes, and that if it was anything else that was bothering him, he would leave it to disappear forever. Yet, this was different. He couldn’t just drop his instinct that told him to go forward, even though he knew there was a great chance of not finding what he wanted; what made his blood pressure rise so high; what caused him to wake up that morning in such an abnormal state for him.
Taking a deep breath, he counted to three. His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest, the beat increasing as he counted.
What if he was imagining things?
One.
What if this continued?
Two.
How much longer could he take?
Three.
He strode to the door, his mind dispersing the doubts in the mind as he strode with confidence. His hands itched to reach there faster, his breathing rapid. The distance from one door to the other seemed like miles for him, the distance stretching farther and farther as he walked – as if fate wouldn’t let him reach his destination.
Oblivious to his shaking hands, Alexander placed one hand on the hard, mahogany door and inched it open even further – further and further until he could see every inch of what seemed to be another portion of the lounge room.
And there, with her back to him, stood the woman with the cherry red hair.
Author’s Note: So he finally got to see…well, one of them; or, to be honest, the back of one of them! I was starting to feel bad for him even though his character is V arrogant. He’ll see the other soon, though. :) Also, thanks to everyone for sticking with this story even though I know you all probably hate me for my monthly updates lol :(