Possessed hearts

Морион Анна

I knew Brandon was here: the windows of my suite faced the road. His black Bentley was parked in the guest car park. As ravenous and lustrous as its owner. Brandon's a Bentley nut.

He was waiting for me at the restaurant. But I was in no hurry to show up. Let him wait like kids wait for Christmas. If Grayson wants his purchase, he'll wait as long as I deign not to show up. It's my whim. Oh, damn it. Who am I kidding? Myself? No, it's not wanting to see Brandon, talk to him, sit at the same table with him. My fear. I was scared. Being alone with him. Trying to remain cold and ironic while a fire burned in my soul, burning everything around me.

I looked in the mirror: big, perfect, even. My reflection. Perfect, too.

But no. I am not embraced by the flames burning inside me. I am calm. My lips are tighter than usual. I adjust the pearl bracelet on my left hand, run my fingers over the contours of my face. My hair lay in perfect order. So beautiful, well-groomed, shiny. Curling like sea waves. It was a waterfall, covering my narrow back with its luxury. A tight black skirt, a palm above the knee. A translucent white shirt with tapered sleeves. Three-quarter. You can see my beautiful white bra through the fabric. New, bought today, white shoes with a high thick heel. I look like a secretary. An angelic, devilishly seductive, cunningly beautiful secretary.

No. I will never be a submissive. My role is to command. Always. Life. Death. Peace. Feelings. But, alas, not my own. Alien. With my own, I fought a bloody, exhausting war. And so far, for so many years now, they've been winning.

It's time.

Grabbing my blue leather clutch, I slowly headed for the door. Then the walk to the lift. A minute in the lift that felt like an eternity. And then, I appeared in the huge bright foyer, like an angel of the lord before sinners. I am as cold as a fallen angel carved from snow-white marble, guarding the grave of a beautiful princess. I am a princess myself. A Madonna.

But with each step that brought me closer to the distant table where Brandon sat, an unpleasant, creepy, uncomfortable feeling enveloped me more and more. Hate. Fear. Contempt. My blood is full of this poison. But I walked firmly, beautifully, slowly forward. I will stop at nothing. No one. Especially him.

I, and only I, rule the ball. And he's just a guest.

"Give him the flash drive and leave," it suddenly popped into my head. The voice of reason. Or fear. Or my insanity.

Brandon looks at me with a white-toothed smile. And it's so disarming. He doesn't often show up in public without his jacket. The jacket is him. He's the eternal stern, elegant jacket. But tonight, this Englishman is wearing white shirt. Classic. No tie. Dark blue trousers. Black shiny shoes. Dark hair laid back one to one. Wide, beautiful eyebrows. And icy, piercing blue eyes.

One of our mutual friends once referred to Grayson as "Mr. Elegant Pervert", of course, after Brandon had slept so openly with mortal women. Yeah. Always elegant. Attractive. Pervert. Like me.

– As always beautiful and deadly deceitful. – Those were his first words. Instead of a greeting. – But I'm surprised. I expected to see you with almost no clothes on.

I grinned derisively. But…

His words pierced my mind. My pride.

Brandon, that sneak had just rubbed my nose in my 'shit'. My blatant style of dressing. My "blatantly cheap taste," as my sister Mariszka used to say. If she'd said that phrase, I wouldn't have cared. But it was his words. He thinks I'm trashy. Cheap.

I don't care. Him and his opinion.

– I know how to surprise. As you can see," I said ironically, taking a seat at the table across from Brandon. – But I'm no match for you, Mr. 'I never take my jacket off'."

He chuckled.

– 'You're gorgeous. – He gestured to the waiter, and he hurried to our table.

– You too," I smiled sweetly. – But let's get right to business.

– Take your time. I want to have dinner with you.

I squinted my eyes.

Does Brandon want to have dinner with me? Or is my hearing deceiving me?

Why would he do that? For what purpose? What does he want from me?

These and a thousand other questions whirled through my mind.

– Why the sudden honour? – I let out a laugh, which, thankfully, sounded believable.

– I like to spend time with beautiful women. – Brandon smiled predatorily. – And you, Maria, are the most beautiful woman I've ever met.

I rolled my eyes theatrically. And my heart shuddered.

– So many compliments in just a few minutes. You're on fire today! – I said mockingly, and then turned to the waiter. – Crystal, please.

– Excellent choice, miss. A fine champagne for a fine lady," the waiter smiled. He's wearing a strict black uniform. Good.

– A bottle of Dalmore 50," Brandon said.

– Cheap," I smiled.

– Maybe," he smiled back.

Suddenly I was struck by the realisation of how relaxed and at ease I was being with him. As if it wasn't him, but someone else. A close friend. Everything I'd felt on the way to the restaurant was suddenly gone.

But a moment later, when my gaze met his, I was pierced by a sharp sense of hatred. I was unarmed in front of him. My soul howled with the desire to hurt him.

The waiter left.

– Speaking of beautiful women. Tell me, admirer of the mortal girl's body: how many have you tried? – As if casually, I threw my clutch on the round table, covered with snow-white, perfectly even, without a single crease tablecloth.

– I just fuck them. And then they're gone. – Brandon said it as if he were talking about something unimportant, completely mundane. – Why the sudden interest in my personal life, Maria?

– The whole world is talking about it. But you don't care, do you? – A mocking smile lit up my face.

– You know, there's only one person's opinion is authoritative for me. And that's me. – He smiled charmingly. – And I'm not the only one who finds mortals attractive, am I?

My lips stretched into a fake smile.

The waiter brought us our drinks, which, of course, we didn't even get a taste of.

– That's great," I squeezed out as the waiter left, but the direct stare of my companion's icy eyes made me glance down at my clutch. – So, about the case. – I took the clutch in my hands, unzipped it, pulled out a small red flash drive and held it out to Brandon, and he took it.