Captive Of The Count

13

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Here is the 'make it up to you guys' chapter😁🥰

Warning ⚠️ : Blood.

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Amara's pov

I was in what seemed to be the longest and most quiet elevator ride in the world and to worsen it all, I was stuck with the grumpiest person to ever grace the surface of the earth.

A tough situation.

I had three bothersome things to do. Well, they weren't bothersome to me but they will be to him.

Firstly, I wanted to move closer to him and tuck that stray black strand in place. Secondly, I wanted to break the silence and ask if a gypsy had ever read his palm and then, I wanted to grab a hold of his cane and examine it.

Do not bother the grump, Cora snickered and I had to resist the urge to laugh.

I had my lips pressed together with my fingers running through my hair. It was my way to keep back the many questions I had to ask him.

I leaned against the elevator wall and watched him.

He wasn't positioned against the wall like I was.

Instead, he stood upright.

One hand holding the cane, his fingers twirling on the eagle head, the other hand fiddled in his coat pocket and produced a pocket watch. I raised a brow as I saw him peer at it, the ticking of the watch piercing through the unsettling silence, why is he using a pocket watch in this century?

He tucked it back in his pockets and dropped the hand. His fingers went back to being busy, busy rubbing against the rings on that hand and I saw his thumb gently graze against the red diamond ring.

The silence was deafening and I couldn't stand it anymore.

I pushed off the wall and moved towards him. His head was lifted immediately he heard me shift positions and his eyes slowly followed my stride.

I was before him now and he was peering down at me, lips still pulled in a thin line, not a word coming from his mouth or a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes, he was cold.

I moved closer to him and if I was to take two steps forward, our bodies will touch and that will be wrong. I stayed where I was and elevated myself. I stood on my tiptoes still not standing half as tall as him but my raised hand could reach his face. I picked that strand between my thumb and forefinger, moved it back, and tucked it behind his ears, there, that does it.

He still hadn't moved, he just stared at me, his silver eyes boring into my soul as I did one of my three bothersome things and the hair looked much lovelier with that single strand pleated back in place.

"Ever had a gypsy or witch read your palms?" I asked stepping away from him with my hands laced behind me.

"Yea."

"What did she tell you?"

"Never to fall in love." He tapped his cane on the floor. I saw his hand move up and those slim fingers ran through his hair.

"How's that going for you?" It was pretty weird advice and I was very sure he didn't have a hard time following it.

"It's all good." He tucked his hand back in his pocket and stepped away from me. This time, he leaned against the wall just like I had a few minutes ago.

"Thank you for the dress." I was the one fiddling with my fingers now, "And for saving me, for the treatment, for the apartment and the flip-flops, and for not swatting me with your cane." He hummed and raised a brow at my last words.