12. Excuses
I gulped, slowly turning my head to the side towards Azrael, noticing the calm, composed expression plastered all over his perfect features as he continued to play with that knife, keeping his gaze down.
Gosh, how could I be so stupid to think that he would actually forget about that? He’s a freaking cop, of course he doesn’t forget!
I mentally slapped myself, anxiously squeezing my brains for a quick solution in order to avoid a messy situation, given the fact that my ‘beloved’ brother was also in the same room with us and he would've totally shot his ass, cop or not, if he would've ever heard the nature of Azrael’s questions.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I blurted out, quickly lowering my gaze on my lap, however, didn’t fail to notice that Raphael didn’t even look surprised. In fact, he was attentively watching my every move, looking like he knew what his brother was talking about.
“Oh I think you know it very well. So cut the crap,” He quickly replied, his tone harsh and cold, but still, thankfully he kept his voice down.
I sat there for a couple of moments, thinking about what to do -obviously I didn’t want anyone to die today, or get shot- so I came with the single logical solution.
“Fine. You’ll get your answers. But can we please, not do this in here? I don’t want my brother to freak out that I’m being questioned by a cop,” I quickly explained, keeping my voice down, mentally high-fiving myself for inventing such a credible excuse in such short amount of time.
“Ok,” He agreed, giving me a slow nod,
“We’ll talk about this after dinner, somewhere else,” He stated, now with a very calm, composed tone, not sparing me a single glance.
As the time passed by, I started to feel even more and more anxious, uncomfortably squirming in my seat -hell, I couldn’t even touch my food since I've lost my appetite after that conversation- and apparently Leila noticed too my sudden change in demeanor, her hazel orbs showing nothing but pure concern, mouthing a silent “you ok?” once I turned to take a glimpse in her direction.
I nodded, forcing out a smile, struggling to maintain my composure then focused my gaze back on my food, grabbing my cutting knife, mercilessly stabbing the small piece of meat as I felt Raphael’s eyes trained on me.
“You done?” Once again I heard that deep, slightly rusty voice softly ringing in my ears and I slowly nodded, keeping my gaze down.
“Good. Then go ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” He instructed and I nodded again then slowly pushed my chair back, getting up.
Walking slowly, steadily, I made my way towards the door, but stopped for a moment once I've noticed Rick’s slightly worried expression and gave him a light smile.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I explained, earning a small nod from him, returning to his previous conversation so I continued walking, loudly exhaling once I've exited that room.
I was aimlessly wandering around the grand hallway, admiring some of the paintings hanging on the walls when I suddenly felt a strong hand gripping my arm, firm but not enough to hurt me, quickly recognizing the owner, feeling yet again that wave of warmth travelling throughout my entire body.
I felt his muscular chest pressed against my back, his hot breath fanning on the side of my neck as his deep voice rang in my ear,
“Come,” He gently tugged my arm, dragging me down the hallway until we reached another wooden door, seemingly smaller than the dining room’s and opened it, pushing me inside.
I took a glimpse around, noticing it was a small office, containing only the basics; a small library, a desk with a chair, a small couch and a coffee table, situated near a mini fireplace.
No one would think to search us in here.
As soon as I heard the lock twisting in place, my heart started racing, suddenly feeling a little scared of being all alone with him in there.
What if he tries something funny? I don’t even know him, after all.
So what if he’s a cop? He might as well be a rapist, or a psychopath!
Fuck!
I shook my head, trying to clear out all those stupid thoughts clouding my mind and took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.
He strode towards the desk then leaned against it, crossing his arms, his bulging muscles flexing in the process, the light blue shirt covering his torso looking like it would tear apart any moment now.
I, just like the last time, preferred to stand in the same spot a few feet away from him and mimicked his actions, crossing my arms as well as I was trying to put up a defiant stance even though on the inside I was already feeling extremely intimidated.
“Start talking,” He commanded in a low, authoritative tone, keeping his gaze fixated on me.
“What do you want to know?” I asked in a calm, composed tone.
“Everything.”
“Well then, there isn’t much to say,” I started to explain,
“Like I said, I barely knew the guy. He had a crush on me so he constantly kept trying to get my attention. I didn’t share the same feelings so I tried to keep the distance in the nicest way possible, meaning that I politely refused him. However, I felt bad for him so I kept on at least saying hi everyday and having small conversations with him.”
Well, that was true, but what I didn’t tell him was that my dear brother almost killed Mitch when he found out that he was hitting on me.
“And?” He ushered me to speak further, like sensing there was more to the story.
Obviously, I couldn’t say anything more, so...
“That’s all,” I shrugged, trying to act as natural as possible. However, it seemed like he wasn’t satisfied with my answer, the deep frown now creasing his god-like features clearly confirming it.
“It’s not nice to lie, you know?” He muttered in a low, dangerously calm tone, sending cold shivers down my spine.
“I’m not l-”
Before I could finish my sentence, he was already right in front of me and in one, quick motion I was pinned against the nearest wall, his rough warm hands firmly gripping my shoulders, his masculine, fresh scent invading my senses.
“I said, STOP LYING,” He emphasized in the same calm, dangerously low tone, his deep blue irises darkening by the second, his hot breath fanning all over my face.
“I told you, I’m not-”
Before I could finish my sentence, the one, single voice I was dreading to hear the most called from behind the door.
“Blake?”