Chapter Eight
The voice brings me some relief. I turn to follow his voice and find him standing against a wall, his face hidden by the darkness giving him a certain advantage over me, I see only part of his suit, challenging me to represent his belonging there. I bite my lips and imagine the excuse I would have to create to justify why I am there. I see myself talking to a shadow, his face a mystery to me, wondering if he is smiling like he used to. The idea of me being there, helpless and out of my comfort zone - which was his greatest comfort - could easily be his main entertainment, I didn't know if I liked it or hated it. I tightened the strap of my purse as a signal to my body to focus my fear there, my hand hurt, but the pain was the way out so I could hold myself in this position.
"I am not lost, I am fully aware of where I am and my difficulties." There is a silence before he replies in a comical tone, fuel for my irritability.
"You don't seem to like your position very much, since you're not afraid of losing it on the first day."
"I thought the main criteria for dismissal was what happens during working hours, we've been over that a long time, Mr. Moser." The man seems to ponder for a few seconds before he releases his back from the smooth wall, his footsteps coming towards me and now his face is visible, illuminated by the car's headlights. It is not a smile, but an expression of irony.
"And why are you still here?" he keeps his hands in his pockets, rummaging through something in one of them. I bite my lip, wondering if I would be a good liar if I tried.
"I had problems with my computer and lost my wallet during lunch, I was supposed to look for it after work ..." He doesn't seem moved, his blue eyes glow with something I can't identify, and I realize he's analyzing me. I wait nervously for an answer, my face aching from looking up. This man was just as tall, it must have been a family thing, I wondered deep inside what the old boss Mr. Moser might look like, just as tall and with eyes as blue as these, I suppose.
"You need a ride." And there was that smile, it looked as if he couldn't live without curving his lips like that. Did he think that was a charming feature? Part of me was teasing him for being absurdly full of himself, another part of me was interpreting his lines and mannerisms as those of a happy teenager. How old was this man? His appearance was that of a mature man with many experiences, the rest sounded like the ego that all men have and can never learn to reduce.
"I can walk, my apartment is a few blocks away." I insist, but he seems to smile even wider at my refusal. I take a deep breath.
"You know I didn't ask you a question. Come on, it's late for you." I don't answer, so he turns and heads for the exit. I curse him in my mind and follow his figure, his perfect posture as he walks. I analyze his steps, the black hair at the back of his neck, and the relaxed manner as if this was his home, maybe it was a second home.
"Mr. Moser, I know that..."
"You can call me Adrien, Ms. Schwartz." His face turns to the side, staring at me out of the corner of his eye, his lips curled in amusement. I hold my gaze as I follow his footsteps, now side by side.
"Then just call me Dakota, as an equal." He stops immediately and I realize we have reached his car, allowing myself to open my mouth in shock. A "Ferrari" in front of me, that's what it is. Its color is pearl black and it takes me a while to get used to the idea of being dropped off at home by such a car.
"It wouldn't be that interesting..." He finally answers me, aware of my state of shock. Adrien moved nimbly in front of me to open the car door, and I just stared at his face. This is what he wanted, to watch with pleasure my surprise, my desire and my vanity, which proved to be stronger than my reason. I laugh, deeply, and shake my shoulders as I shake my head negatively. I bite my lips and watch him just smile, malice in his eyes.
"Mr. Moser, you like to assert yourself all the time."
"I'm sure you like it. Come in." I shake my head negatively for the last time and get in. The car is luxurious inside, the color black dominating and I watch him turn around to get into the driver's side.
"I'm still deciding," I mutter to myself without him hearing me.
The man sitting next to me is methodical in his mannerisms, we stand in silence and I study him covertly, in our silence I can concentrate on his features without any interference on his part. There are the remnants of a black beard that is shaved every day, the strands of his hair are black and move under the influence of the cool breeze outside. The background is New York City lit up at night and passing like rapid flashes of blurred light, I watch him in slow motion and see him for what he is: an attractive man in his fast car.
"And you are just that," I say, stunned by my reverie. He drives with only one hand, his other arm resting on the glass of the open window. I am drawn to his nonchalance, this serious and mature, calm yet determined state of mind that reminds me of...heavens reminds me of everything that stranger had in the bar. The seriousness, I can imagine the rigid line between his eyebrows, the penetrating analytical and concentrated eyes. All this lasts only a few seconds with Adrien, as if I get a glimpse that suddenly disappears, it was strange that in those few moments, he reminded me so much of that first man.
"What am I?"
I feel like I'm already in a game of no return, so I just play.