THE PERFECT DECEPTION

Chapter 9

Anupama

A shiver ran through me as his arms grazed mine, a brief contact suggesting deep emotions hidden behind his usual detached demeanour. His gaze, mirroring the twin horizons, followed the sun's descent amidst the ocean's glistening waves. He was a mystery, his apparent disinterest in life's course a riddle I yearned to decipher. The beach soothed my senses, with waves rhythmically colliding with the rocks. It was a magical tableau, glimmers pirouetting on the sticky sand, adhering to our attire.

A tranquil silence enveloped us as I tilted my head, observing the foam's advance along the shore. Turning to Jonathan, absorbed in contemplation, his gaze seemed to pierce the sunlight's reflection. Baby blue is a stunning hue within the spectrum's zenith. I cupped my face, inducing a cough, feeling my breath's warmth on my skin. His gaze shifted to mine yet remained frigid as icebergs. "Jonathan," I whispered, barely audible as he scrutinised my mixed expression of hope and apprehension.

"Hm," he murmured, his voice blending with the Pacific's chilly breeze. The air grew dense, constricting my breath. I faltered, rushing to articulate. "Questions, perhaps. We remain strangers to each other," I articulated, stressing each syllable. His expression unaltered, he offered an agreeable nod, seemingly indifferent. Disappointment washed over me, and I doubted if he'd ever reveal his inner self.

He remained silent, his stare attempting to delve into my essence. I had never been regarded with such an intense, exhilarating, and dangerous gaze, but we would reconvene at the next Massimo. Regretting my curiosity, I recalled the Instagram reel Naomi sent, urging me to watch 365 Days—a film steeped in lust and abduction, an utter waste. I hesitate to admit the allure of becoming someone's obsession... But I digress.

"Speak," he commanded, and I nearly snapped at his indifference. I restrained myself and asked, "What's your favourite colour?" This is a fundamental question any couple should know. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, "How original—black."

"How original," I echoed with a roll of my eyes. Black, like your soul?" I smirked, and his eyes narrowed, darkening a shade. Wonderful, my woman knows me so well," he responded sarcastically, dragging a finger across my nose in a playful 'boop.' I scoffed; his eyes were impenetrable. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, but he was a facade, as unattainable as a luxury beyond one's means.

"What do you do besides work and drive me mad?" I inquired, half-expecting more boasting or complaints about his busyness. His gaze weighed on me, scrutinising each word as if I spoke poison. "I savour the finer things in life," he paused, mocking my simpler tastes. I sighed, offering a toothy, insincere smile, "Do tell," I urged, twirling my hair and batting my eyelashes.

A guttural growl left his lips as he pressed them together. I watched the contours of his mouth turn a deep pink, captivating me. His tongue lightly moistened his lips, and I chastised myself internally. "You should know I play chess," he declared smugly, a slight smirk on his face. "Fascinating," I responded, feigning interest, but this time, he just rolled his eyes, dismissing my act.

"I love reading, mainly news articles," he says, nodding. "I enjoy art, music, and even the occasional horse riding," he adds, each word wrapped in eloquence. "Let me guess, you own a horse ranch?" I inquire, my amusement lacking even though horse riding has been on my bucket list for some time. "I do," he replies, leaning in close enough for his breath to brush my cheekbone, "for my mom."

I groan and lean back. My pulse races, and I can't understand why he affects me or my thighs clench together. I wouldn't say I like the shaky breaths I take as he pulls back like he's some figment of fantasy. "And you?" he asks with an arrogant smirk. Clutching the sticky sea sand beneath my hand, a shiver runs through me. "I love dancing," I state firmly, attempting to emulate his icy demeanour.