Page 13 of Shadows of Obsession
Her friend finally turns to me, does a double take, and practically yells, "Roman Borisov?"
"Nice to meet you. Though I prefer meeting people under better circumstances."
Niko and Alfonso haul the guy off the floor, giving me the signal they'll 'handle' him out back. Alfonso's already working crowd control, announcing free tequila shots for everyone. Amazing how quickly people forget about violence when free booze is involved. But I stay rooted beside their table, unable to move away.
"What a coincidence that you were the one who intervened," her friend says. "Would you like to join us?"
But my attention is caught by the word she used:coincidence. It's not unusual for people to recognize me, but it seems I'm missing something.
"Coincidence?" I repeat in a calculatedly friendly tone while Luna continues to study me as if she can't believe I'm real and standing next to her.
Luna. Even her name is a sign she's made for me. The darkness in me wants to envelop her. Completely.
You're losing it, Roman.
"Luna works at a company you recently acquired," the friend tells me.
I can't stop the smile forming on my face because, although I don't believe in a supreme being or fate, there's something supernatural about how things align. I was just wondering how I could engineer another meeting between us, but if she works for me, things just got simpler.
"By the way, I'm Roxy."
Luna looks about ready to decapitate her friend with her glare, but what fascinates me is precisely that spark in her eyes. I don't understand how her eyes could be so empty when that cretin grabbed her, but now they're so alive and full of fire.
I sit in one of the chairs closer to the woman, who now seems to be breathing fire, and direct all my attention to her.
"Is that so?" And the question is clearly directed at her.
"Yes. We officially start next week, Mr. Borisov." Her tone is so formal and irritating that I feel a facet of my control slip.
"Which department will you be in?"
I realize I'm not asking out of politeness. I'm genuinely curious.
"And please, call me Roman," I add with a smile.
"IT. I work as a software programmer," she answers in a soft tone, without taking her eyes off me. The fact that she maintains my gaze only cements my madness further, but she still speaks in that formal tone.
"And do you enjoy what you do?"
I want to punch myself because it's such a stupid question, like I'm some HR manager.
Luna seems to analyze me for a few moments before answering.
"I like that we all work as one so someone can breathe easier, knowing their life is being monitored."
I don't miss the pride in her voice. It's clear she enjoys working on this project.
Her friend watches us, fascinated, without saying a word, but I catch her face and see she's radiating with delight, which givesme unexpected satisfaction. I make a quick gesture to one of the waiters to approach and order a shot of tequila. When I turn back to Luna, I notice her gaze is fixed on my hand, and lowering my eyes, I see the traces of blood left from my fist's meeting with that scumbag's face.
"It's nothing. At worst it'll bruise," I tell her just to provide comfort because she looks worried, and I don't like seeing that level of concern in her eyes even if it's for me.
Since when do you care about concern in someone's eyes?I don't have an answer for that, so I file away the question for later. I'll analyze it this evening when I get home because I have many questions. Rationally, I should distance myself from this woman, who in one evening has raised too many rhetorical questions.
"You should put some ice on that, Mr. Borisov," Luna says in a soft tone.
Then her friend intervenes.
"Roman, are you here with someone tonight? I forgot to ask when I invited you to join us. We wouldn't want them to feel bad about you sitting with us."
