Monochrome Interview

by May Freighter

  “I hate him!” she screamed.

  Her phone went off, and she launched for it, sliding across the bed to find it on the floor. She picked up, saying, “What’s up, Ursula?”

  “Well, you sound chipper this morning. Did you get laid?”

  Abigail glared at her phone before bringing it back to her ear. “No, I didn’t get laid.”

  “Good, ‘cause I’ve set up a meeting with Prince Charming.”

  “Who?” Abigail raked her memory for anyone from last night, coming up blank.

  Her friend groaned. “The blind date I mentioned? He said he would like to meet with you tonight if you’re up for it. His name’s Chris Walker.”

  “Ah, the washboard abs guy or is he the underwear model?”

  “Seriously? Did you listen to a word I said yesterday? He’s not an underwear model. Chris is a bit of a nerd, works as a programmer for our company.”

  Abigail rolled on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Okay. Chris, programmer, nice abs. Got it.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t get laid? You sound like a ditsy blonde.”

  A blush crept to her cheeks, but she smashed her excitement with a mental image of a huge hammer. Alexander didn’t deserve her affection. That man was a killer. Sure, he had saved her from some creepy assailant in the alley, but he did kill a guy. She shuddered. “So, this date, where am I going to meet him?”

  “He said he’ll pick you up at eight. I gave him your new address.”

  Abigail nodded. “If he turns out to be a bore, I’m going to submit a ticket to tech support.”

  This time, Ursula burst out laughing, and, soon after, both of them were too busy planning another night out.

  Chris Walker turned out to be a looker. He was tall, broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, and smelled of pine trees. He showed up with a bouquet of white roses and a charming smile that would have melted any girl’s heart. The guy even had damned dimples. She loved dimples. Leave it to Ursula to find a diamond in the rough.

  He brought her to an Italian restaurant in the city. She liked the romantic atmosphere: dim lights, candles, and a single rose on every table.

  While they waited for their starters, she smiled at him and said, “I heard from Ursula that you play the guitar.”

  “A little. In college, I used to be in a band.”

  “Oh, got any tattoos?”

  He shook his head. “No. I came close to getting ‘I love Jesus’ done on my ass at one point. That’s when I decided to cut down on the amount of alcohol I consume.”

  She couldn’t hold back her laughter. “A solid decision.” Her eyes wandered to his attire. He wore a simple knitted sweater and jeans. Lifting her attention back to his sky-blue eyes, she reached for her glass of wine.

  “Our mutual friend said you’re interning as a journalist. Do you like it?” he asked.

  Abigail swallowed a mouthful of her drink before setting her glass down. “Yeah. It’s fun. I love meeting new people and trying to dig up dirt on them.”

  His eyes widened, and her hands shot up, almost knocking over her glass. She scrambled to stabilise it and mumbled, “Not in a bad way! I don’t go through their trash or anything. I should just stop talking…”

  “No, no, please continue. I have never dated a journalist before.”

  “What kind of girls have you dated?”

  Chris reached for his glass when the waiter showed up with their starters. Evident relief flooded his face, and Abigail took a mental note of that. She could easily talk about the men she had dated in the past with almost anyone. Why is he withholding such information from her? Does he have something to hide?

  Abigail dug into her salad as she stole glances his way. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of platinum hair and her breath caught in her throat. Assessing the rest of the restaurant, she didn’t see anyone resembling Alexander and cursed inwardly. She had to be imagining things. Just like I’m imagining being bitten twice in one night or that Alexander isn’t necessarily human?

  “Are you alright?” Chris asked.

  She forced a smile and left her seat. “I am going to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  After she left her date at the table, she marched into the ladies room and pressed her back against the tiled wall. Chris was nice, but he didn’t provide her with the same spark she had in Alexander’s vicinity. Other than an appetising exterior, she wondered if she’d want to pursue a relationship with him. Then again, maybe after tonight, he’d be bored of her, too, and find someone who doesn’t talk about rummaging through people’s bins over dinner.

  She left the restroom, passing by a private room. Her body came to a sudden stop. Alexander’s laughter came from the room, summoning that same, strange buzz in her stomach.

  “He couldn’t be here. I’m imagining things again.”

  The door opened, and a woman in a red cocktail dress stumbled outside. Abigail recognised her from a Vogue magazine spread. Past the blonde, she located the man she feared to find.

  Alexander’s steely gaze met hers, and he smiled before he excused himself. Joining her in the corridor, he let her take in his pristine black suit and the shirt he didn’t bother buttoning all the way up. “What can I do you for, Ms Greene?”

  “Nothing. I was about to return to my date,” she said, meeting his gaze head-on.

  He chuckled. “Would that be the man who lies to you at every turn?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Bending down, he brushed her hair aside and whispered into her ear, “I can hear his heartbeat. He lied when he said he does not drink much anymore. I believe you will find it to be quite the opposite.”

  “So he drinks, big whoop here in Dublin.”

  He straightened up. “Enjoy your date, Abby. I must get back to my business partners.”

  She glanced past him, seeing two men sitting beside two more women. What kind of business deals required models to be clinging to them while they talked? Sizzling with annoyance, she stormed away and re-joined Chris at the table.

  “Are you feeling alright?” he asked, sounding a little merrier than before.

  Abigail stole a peek at the bottle of wine on the table. It was nearly finished. Her anger surged again, and she grabbed her purse. “You know, I don’t think I’m feeling too good. It must be something I ate. Mind giving me a lift home?”

  “What about dinner?” he asked, suddenly more alert.

  “We’ll reschedule.” Her eyes were drawn to Alexander who made an order at the bar and turned to glance her way. Since he could hear heartbeats, she knew he would overhear her words as she ran her fingers over Chris’ hand. “Why don’t we go back to my place instead and have some fun. What do you say?”

  Chris’ mouth fell open. “I wouldn’t mind but—”

  “Great!” Taking hold of his arm, she led him to the cash register where he paid for their meal and cancelled the rest of their order.

  She knew it was a dumb thing to do. There was no point in trying to make Alexander jealous with such childish behaviour, but she couldn’t take his smug face anymore. The truth was that she hadn’t been with anyone in over four months. A simple, unattached, one-night stand would do wonders to get that egotistical, self-absorbed man out of her head.

  ALEXANDER

  Alexander heard her loud and clear over the banter of the humans dining at the restaurant. He noted the amount of wine her date had consumed. It wasn’t too much to bring a man over the edge, yet something continued to bother him. Her date lied about his alcohol consumption, just as he had avoided the conversation about his past conquests. Why would she take someone like that into her bed? Is she only interested in the physical relationship?

  He downed the glass of Irish whiskey the bartender brought him and cursed in Russian under his breath. He was too curious to leave her alone. And, if she was only looking for a quick sexual fix, he could make an exception this once. Maybe he could pretend she was a blonde or a brunette while he
fucked her. Whatever the case, he shouldn’t limit himself. His interest in her was already unnatural. If he was to bed her, that interest would vanish, and he would be able to return to normal.

  Happy with his train of thought, he paid the bartender for a new bottle of the most expensive whiskey they stocked and returned to the room where the shareholders of his U.S. branch were buried in the bosoms of two models. “Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen. I’ll have to postpone this meeting until tomorrow.” He winked at the ladies. “Take good care of them, kittens.”

  One of the models purred, and he laughed. Women were complex creatures, but they quickly became undone when he took them to bed. The same would happen to Ms Abigail Greene.

  ABIGAIL

  At her apartment’s front door, Abigail was beginning to have second thoughts. This was not her style. She wasn’t easy nor did she sleep with a guy before having three meals with him in public. Slotting her key into the lock, she let out a sigh. Maybe Chris will get the hint and bugger off? She peered over her shoulder. Nope. He’s still there. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was more than eager to pounce on her like one of those lions in wildlife documentaries. She shook the image out of her head. She was no helpless gazelle.

  “You know what, Chris. I don’t think we should do this after all,” she said, trying to form a genuine smile.

  He eyed her, but she saw no warmth in his gaze that was there all throughout the evening.

  Have I pissed him off?

  “You really can’t make up your mind tonight, can you?” he asked, irate.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “First, you are all reserved and friendly, then you act like a slut by inviting me here, and now you’re playing the reserved card again. You’re not as gorgeous as you may think in that big head of yours.”

  Her jaw unhinged as she stared at him. Has he lost his marbles? He was blatantly insulting her to her face. “Since I’m such a bitch, please be on your way.”

  He chuckled. “I guess it’s a better option than to fuck someone who’s been around town more times than the common cold.” The second he finished his sentence, Chris’ head collided with the wall. He collapsed with a groan, leaving a fuming Alexander behind. Or, at least, she thought he was angry because his eyes were glowing with molten silver.

  “He’s bleeding,” she commented, not moving to help the guy who had insulted her earlier.

  “So it would seem. I can bring him outside and educate him on the way to treat women with respect,” Alexander replied.

  “You? The guy who drinks blood, kidnaps people, kills, and does God-knows-what-else?”

  Alexander’s grey gaze met hers, causing her heart to miss a beat or two. She wasn’t counting. His eyes were beautiful. No. He was beautiful like a winter’s night bathed in moonlight.

  Her words escaped her before she could contain them. “You’re pretty…”

  His brow arched. “Pretty?”

  “I’m sorry. It just came out…”

  He burst into a true, genuine laugh that made her join in.

  She unlocked the door and beckoned for him to come in. “Want another cup of coffee?”

  Alexander cleared his throat and lifted the bottle of whiskey from behind his back. “It would be a shame to let this wonderful drink go to waste, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, it would.”

  CHAPTER 8

  ABIGAIL

  Having grabbed two mugs from the cupboard—because she didn’t have any glasses for expensive alcohol—Abigail nestled them on the coffee table in front of Alexander.

  He briefly assessed the mugs and glanced at her. “Do you not have something more fitting?”

  “Sorry, I’m all out of Glencairn glasses,” Abigail replied and collapsed into a seat next to him. She tucked her legs under her, watching his profile with interest. Every movement of his hand was well-practiced and almost masterful. She noted that he had removed his suit jacket and, in the time it took for her to get the mugs, he had already rolled up his sleeves, exposing his expensive platinum watch.

  He poured their drinks and handed her a mug. “Tell me, why did you choose to bring such a man to your home?”

  “Are you talking about yourself?” Taking a sip of her drink, she hid behind her mug to study his reaction.

  Alexander remained indifferent. He relaxed into the corner of the sofa, facing her, and rested his left ankle on his right knee. The invitation was hard to miss. Abigail had to contain her hands, wrapping them tighter around her cup to keep from inching towards his broad chest. He even lifted his free arm over the back of her sofa, stretching his shirt over his sculpted torso.

  “Do you see something you like, Abby?”

  As if slapped across the face with a raw tuna, her mood soured with the use of the name she hated. “Could you stop calling me that?”

  “Why?”

  She scowled at him. “Because I asked you to?”

  Alexander put his drink on the table and scooted close enough for her to smell his tropical cologne. He took away her drink, leaving her defenceless against his advances.

  Her heart was in her throat when he rested his hand on her thigh. With unhurried movements, he inched it upward. “I believe it is a lovely name, an endearment even.”

  “I’m not someone you can use endearments on.” She sucked in a breath when his hand stopped on her hip.

  “Why not?” His grey eyes burned with unspoken inquiries.

  She ignored his question and reached for her drink—an action which inadvertently pushed his hand away. Finishing her share of alcohol in two mouthfuls, she managed a nervous smile. “Are you going to tell me why you stalked me home? I don’t remember asking you to follow me and ruin my fun.”

  “If I hadn’t followed you, I believe it would be a rather unpleasant time you would be having right now.”

  Abigail’s head felt lighter than before. She glanced at the bottle of whiskey he left on the table. Because she didn’t have the time to eat anything that evening, the alcohol shot straight to her head. Even though she was buzzed, she denied her urge to touch him. The small preview of his milky skin, exposed by the top two undone buttons of his shirt, kept her interest for longer than she wanted to admit. Would he feel soft or hard under my fingertips? She licked her lips.

  “Abigail…” His voice was like a mermaid’s song. It pushed her deeper into the fairy tale she wished to escape from and couldn’t.

  The unnatural pull he had on her had to do with what he was. “What are you, Alexander?”

  “I am a businessman,” he replied with a heart-stopping smile.

  “You know that’s not what I mean. You’ve killed a man, drank blood from me, and tucked me in bed.” She lifted her attention back to his grey eyes. “You are not human, are you?”

  “No. I am not.”

  At that point, she didn’t care if he was mortal or not. She itched to find out what he tasted like. Would he have the flavour of whiskey we drank? Full of alcohol courage, she straddled his lap. “I’m going to forget about you once I get you out of my system.”

  “It appears we are on the same wavelength.” He ran his hands up her thighs then grabbed hold of her ass.

  She cupped his face and started off with a slow, tender kiss that soon became hungry with the fire that burned inside of her since she met him. Her desire to taste every inch of his sweet mouth urged her on.

  Alexander groaned. A second later, her back was pressed against the nearest wall of her living room. The chill from the stone was pushed aside by the fire roaring through her body. His lips broke the fever-inducing kiss and started their journey down her neck while his deft fingers worked on the side zip of her cocktail dress.

  “Let me,” she offered, lowering her legs. Gauging his reaction, she pulled the dress over her head and tossed it aside. A smirk stretched her lips when he took an appreciative look at her curves. She wasn’t skinny, but she was proud of her mother’s inherited wide hips and shapely breasts.
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  “Lost for words, Mr Grekov?” she asked, cocking her head to one side and spilling her red hair over her shoulders.

  Alexander traced his fingers along her collarbone and down to the outline of her black lace bra. “I assure you, my tongue has better use in situations like this.”

  A blush stained her cheeks once the meaning of his words sunk in. She caught his hand and led him to the bedroom. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “One night only. No strings attached. Got it?”

  “Would you like that in writing?”

  She giggled and closed the bedroom door behind them. Reaching for the buttons on his shirt, she wanted him to be on the same level as her—almost naked—but he stopped her.

  “I will be the one to lead this dance.”

  Her brows lifted in surprise. “Are you afraid of a woman taking your control away?”

  “I’m not afraid—”

  She kissed him, trapping the rest of his sentence in his mouth. Her hands freely roamed his chest, and she grabbed the material of his shirt before pulling it apart and popping the buttons off.

  Alexander broke away from the kiss and scowled at her. “You ignored me.”

  “Get used to it. In this bed, in this room, I am law,” she breathed and nibbled on his lower lip. “You are free to leave at any time.”

  The fire in his eyes returned. “Please, continue.”

  She didn’t need another invitation. Abigail unbuckled his belt and undid the button of his trousers. Sliding her hand into his boxers, she could feel him getting hard for her. Pleased with his reaction, she used her free hand to guide his lips to her neck. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  Alexander brushed her hair aside. His soft lips trailed kisses along her jugular until he paused. “Do you want me to bite you?”