His Favorite Sin

3.2: WRONG CONTINENT

Present

For most of her life, Cora had experienced fear. It was cold and haunting, never truly leaving you, even when the cause of it was gone, and especially when the cause was still very much around.

Instinct kicked in. The card dropped from her hand as she instantly swiped out a knife from the block and held it in front of her. Her gun wasn’t close by, so this would have to do. With her heart pounding, and her grip tightly wrapped around the knife’s handle, she compelled her feet forward, taking one wary step after another.

It was quiet once more, and only the living room’s light was on. She kept to the shadows as she slowly made her way towards the bedroom, where the sound had come from. Just as she was an inch away from the room, the door swung open abruptly, almost knocking her in the face if she hadn’t recoiled like a whip. She quickly recovered and was about to strike the intruder when she heard a familiar voice as they waved their arms, alarmed, in front of them.

‘Whoa, whoa, what’s going on? Christ! Cora?’ The light stung her eyes as Drew found the switch and turned it on. Now they could both see clearly, him in a hoodie with a startled expression, and Cora holding a knife, ready to strike.

‘Drew? What are you doing here? I could have hurt you! I thought you were... a burglar.’ Cora carefully chose her last word.

‘I’m not. Now, can you bring down the knife?’ He slowly requested, his eyes shifting cautiously between her and the weapon she still had pointed at him.

‘Sorry.’ She shook her head and brought the knife down. Her eyes scanned around, peeking into her room to make sure there was no one else, before releasing a sigh of relief.

‘If you thought it was a burglar, why didn’t you call the cops?’

Reason caught up as he said that, and she facepalmed, realizing that would have been the logical thing to do. ‘Right. I should have done that.’

‘I thought it was okay to wait here till your meeting was over. Why didn’t you call me to come pick you up?’ He had a key to her apartment, which she had given him as an alternative means to take their relationship to the “next level.”

Drew followed Cora behind as she marched back to the kitchen and placed the knife on the counter. ‘Oh, your kitchen light seems to be broken. I will try to get it fixed tomorrow.’ He was such a sweet and thoughtful boyfriend.

‘I didn’t take the deal.’ Cora sighed.

‘What? Why?’ He queried, and she turned to see the puzzled look on her boyfriend’s face. A picture of Lance flashed in her mind, him sitting in that restaurant across from her, dark shades over his eyes, and a shadow of a smile curling his lips.

She had left Tammy at that restaurant with him. She shouldn’t have, knowing what he was. Maybe she should have forced Tammy along with her. Was her editor okay?

‘What’s going on, Cora?’ Drew strolled up to her, concern etched on his face as he lifted her chin so she could stare into his unique hazel eyes that were now darker with the lights off.

‘It doesn’t matter who you tell. You would only be digging your grave and theirs.’ The harrowing warning echoed in her mind like a distant voice in the mountains.

‘Cora?’ Drew’s voice jerked her back to the present, but the past still lingered in her mind, and her face mirrored her dread.

‘Let’s run away together.’ Cora blurted out of the blue.

‘What?’ He blinked back.

‘Let’s do it. It’s what you wanted, right? Move to Spain, get married in Ibiza. We can start over, a new life, just us two. Heck, we can even leave tonight.’

It was dead silent between them, his face blank as he stared back at her.

‘Right...’ He slowly nodded just as something flashed behind his eyes. He pushed away from her, putting some distance between them.

‘Oh, maybe that job will still be available. You know, the one with the high pay that I had been offered four months ago but had to turn down because I didn’t want to go alone, and the girl I wanted to carry along and start a life with turned me down and instead gave me a key to her apartment!’ He was out of breath at the end of his outburst.

Right, giving him her house key was an alternative, an alternative to not marrying him when he had asked her to. Cora hadn’t known what else to do then. Drew had been quiet, really quiet, when she told him she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. And he had remained that quiet for weeks while she was losing her mind over guilt. When she couldn’t get a hold of him during that time because he wouldn’t pick up her calls or text her back, she thought he had left for Spain. But Tammy assured her that he was still around. Then one day, he showed up at her apartment and told her he wasn’t taking the job. There was nothing there for him; he had told her. And to show him she was still committed to their relationship, she had given him the key to her apartment, a really weak attempt at an apology. She could have asked him to move in or even move in with him, but even that had been too much for her. She did not deserve him, she knew, because even with all that, he still took her back.

It was a sore topic for him, and Cora shouldn’t have brought it up. She hung her head in shame, ‘I’m sorry—’

‘I’m not mad, Cora!’ He whirled around and threw his hands in the air, exasperated, startling her. He saw the look on her face and paused.

‘I’m not mad.’ He repeated more calmly now. ‘I just don’t understand; an hour ago, you left with Tammy to get that book contract you’ve always wanted. Not even an hour later, you came back, took a knife from the kitchen, and almost stabbed me with it because you thought I was a burglar, and now you’re asking me to run away with you, to... to marry you? Is that even what you’re asking, because I am really confused right now.’ He paced in front of her.

‘What happened at the meeting? Did things not go well? Did they turn your book down? Where’s Tammy?’

The doorbell went off just then, and her breath hitched in her throat at the high-pitched sound. She made no move to answer.

Another ring, and she still silently remained frozen in her spot while Drew eyed her, puzzled. ‘Are we getting that?’

She shrugged, ‘It’s late. Who could it be?’ Death? Her thoughts went wild.

‘I don’t know, Cora. Maybe one of your neighbors or maybe even Tammy.’

She shrugged again, but still remained rooted to her spot.

‘I’ll get it.’ Drew sighed and strode out of the kitchen.

‘Drew, wait—’Cora tried stopping him, but his legs were longer and quick to reach the door. His large frame blocked her from seeing who it was, but soon, an irritated Tammy pushed past him, and Cora’s shoulders slumped in relief. Thank goodness her editor was alive and well, even though her eyes were firing flaming swords to bury Cora six feet deep.

‘Oh, Tammy. I’m so glad you’re okay. Sorry, I reacted like that at the restaurant. You just wouldn’t...’

‘Save it.’ Tammy lifted a hand to silence her. ‘Okay, listen. It wasn’t easy to get them to agree to this. Frankly, I’m surprised he was okay with it because Isabel insisted firmly against it and didn’t like the idea, but he—’

Cora shook her head, ‘Slow down, Tammy, what are you talking about?’ She was lost about what Tammy was rambling about.

Tammy halted, a grave look on her face as she stared back at Cora.

‘I would have preferred we do this another day, but Mr. Dvorak insisted on tonight only. That was the only way he would give you another shot. I need you to pull yourself together, okay? I understand this might seem scary; you're getting this huge opportunity, but—' Cora wasn’t listening to Tammy anymore, her words drowned out by the gentle sound of a cane tapping against the floor.

Cora’s eyes returned to Drew. He was still holding the door open, talking with someone else before letting them in. A walking cane tapped its way in, followed by a dark suit and dark glasses that hid the soulless orbs of its owner. Her blood ran cold.

Lance.

He was there, in her living room, shaking hands with Drew, who was eyeing him cautiously but still being cordial as they introduced themselves to one another. Isabel wasn’t with him, but that was the least of Cora’s worries.

‘Cora?’ Tammy touched Cora’s shoulder.

‘You brought him here?’ Cora coolly phrased the question, her eyes still glued to Lance. She shifted her glare to Tammy, who guiltily went silent because she knew her friend never liked it when strangers knew where she lived. Cora never took anyone who wasn’t her or Drew back to her home, and Tammy very well knew that. The betrayal poked Cora in the heart.

Cora’s gaze shifted back one last time to the men in the room. Lance, being his charming self, flashed Drew his boyish smile, but she couldn’t be fooled by that act again. He finally c****d his head in her direction, and her feet instinctively moved backward. Ignoring Tammy’s demanding voice and Drew’s worried expression, Cora slowly retreated and disappeared into the kitchen.

Cora’s apartment couldn’t be described as spacious, but it was adequate for her. The kitchen was mostly enclosed, so only the part revealed by the small doorway was visible from the living room. Her hand reached for the knife she had dropped earlier on the counter. Then she stood in a corner and waited for the Grim Reaper. She still had on her dress, and her heels were tossed somewhere in the living room.

What she wanted was to go out there and use the knife in her hand on the criminal in the apartment, but she lacked the courage. She also seemed to suddenly lack the ability to use her limbs as fear gripped her bones and left her frozen in that corner.

She tried focusing on her breathing instead, listening to the distinct voices outside. Drew and Tammy must think her a lunatic with the way she lived her life and how she was acting at that moment. If only they knew what she knew, had seen what she’d seen, then they wouldn’t think her demented. She could hear their fretful voices coming from the living room. Her grip on the knife’s handle tightened when she heard the footsteps coming closer.

‘Don’t worry. I can find my way. It’s natural for authors to be wary and possessive of their work. Just let me talk to her alone.’ Lance’s honeyed voice drifted into the kitchen from the living room, and a second later, his white cane followed, then his silhouette finally appearing at the kitchen’s doorway. His dark frame blocked the little light coming in from the living room.

Cora had had nightmares about this moment, ones that caused her to wake up drenched in sweat, short of breath, and her heart drumming like that of a marathon racer. She was trapped with no escape as the devil cornered her. Sometimes, she begged for her life, and a few times, she fought for it, but it all ended the same; her body lifeless on the floor.

Like a phantom, Lance’s shadow floated into the dark room. He purposely folded and set down the stick on the kitchen island as he got closer, and her breath got caught in her throat as the space between them slowly got eliminated. He was so close that if she were quick enough, she would be able to successfully lodge the weapon in her hand deep into his chest before he could even grasp what was going on. She just needed to pluck up the courage, but then he stopped and held his hand out in front of him.

Her gaze briefly shifted down to his open palm, bemused, and then back to his face. The moon’s silver light, penetrating her kitchen window, showered itself partially on Lance’s face as he stepped in front of her. She wished he didn’t have those glasses on so she could see his face properly and maybe even get an inkling of what was brewing in his mind. He truly had changed – grown. She had gotten a good look at him at the restaurant, but it was still staggering seeing him, especially with him so up close now. He looked like the Lance she first met when he was a teenager, but at the same time, he didn’t.

‘The knife, Dahlia.’ He uttered in a low, raspy voice when she remained immobile. Of course, he knew. Lance Dvorak may not have his sight, but it was impossible to hide something from him.

‘I’m not here to hurt you,’ he said at first, but when she still remained immobile, his smile faltered. ‘Don’t make me, because then I would also have to take care of the witnesses in your living room. Maybe I will start with your boyfriend, Andrew, was it?’ He added with a bloodcurdling smile. Cora instantly felt sick in her stomach. He really was a stranger and not the sweet boy who once told her she had a friend in him. But then again, that boy never existed but was an illusion created to fool her.

Left with no choice, she dropped her only means of protection into his awaiting palm. He examined the weapon with his hands, twisting the metal around in his hand, and Cora watched nervously as he leisurely ran a finger across the sharp edge in front of her.

‘What do you want?’ Her voice came out as a faint whisper, almost unrecognizable. He was taller now, she noticed, as she had to crane her neck up slightly to look at him. They had nearly been the same height the last time that she saw him, with her taller back then.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want our first meeting after so long to begin with threats.’

‘What do you want?’ Cora coldly repeated her question.

He moved in closer. ‘You know what I want, Miss Dahlia.’ He drawled in her ear, his face so close to her as he held the knife to the skin of her bare shoulders. She stiffly pushed herself back into the counter behind her, feeling the edge dig into her back. Her breath seized as her name easily rolled off his tongue. She hadn’t been called that in a long while. She had abandoned that name, buried it with her past.

With him this close, every breath she took was purely the scent of his woodsy cologne. Was this it? Seven years of running, and she still wound up dead?

‘Your book,’ he announced, and she exhaled when he finally moved away, giving her some breathing space. He kept the knife with him as he freely sauntered around the kitchen, still skimming his finger over the cold steel. If he was trying to intimidate her, it was, sadly, working.

One who didn’t know Lance Dvorak, given his condition, would wonder how he was able to maneuver his way around a room that was unfamiliar to him without bumping into any objects, but Cora lived with him long enough to not be surprised.

‘Why? Scared it exposes the real you?’

He ignored her comment. ‘Isabel will send over the contract sometime this week; go over it as much as you want, ask her whatever you want, make any changes you want, and let her know. Just please sign it.’ He stopped opposite the kitchen island, easily sliding her knife back into the block. Her shoulders relaxed seeing the weapon was out of his hand now, but she still knew to keep her guard up.

‘And if I don’t?’ Cora lifted her chin, feeling a bit bolder. ‘I could go to the cops here, you know. This isn’t your little town where your family controls everything. You don’t own the law here.’ This was her house, and a different city. He couldn’t hurt her here without repercussions... right?

He smiled, slowly and condescendingly, that chills erupted all over her arms. ‘Dahlia, if you were looking for a place where you would be safe from me, then you should have picked a different continent, or planet even.’ He added.

He picked up his cane from the island and unfolded it as he headed for the entrance. But then he suddenly stopped, angling his head to where she still stood in her corner. ‘Sweet dreams, Miss Dahlia.’ And just like that, he was gone. She felt the goosebumps on her exposed skin as she rubbed her arms and listened to Tammy wish him goodbye in the living room, followed by the sound of her front door closing afterward.

Drew found her in the kitchen, curled in a corner in her black dress, and being the sweet and concerned boyfriend he was, he picked her up and took her to bed. She had done weirder things, so he wasn’t surprised. Tammy knew to keep her distance because Cora would, of course, be furious with her. All Cora wanted, anyway, was to be left to her thoughts.

Cora was no psychic, but if there was one thing she could predict, it was that she knew that she was, in fact, not going to have “sweet dreams” tonight.