The Halloween Massacre

Chapter 4 ~ Amira

It's currently 6:30 p.m. and I'm still undecided on what to wear. Erik doesn't get home until almost ten now, so that leaves me plenty of time with Warren.

Eventually, I decide on a mini black dress and Louboutin red bottom high heels that my mom gifted me for my eighteenth birthday. I have a black clutch purse and a silk bow to pin my hair half up and half down, with my curtain bangs framing my face.

That's when I realize; He doesn't know where I live. I open my phone to his number and hesitate over the the letters.

This is wrong.

So very wrong.

I have a boyfriend.

I text him anyways. I don't know what it is about Warren, but he makes me do risky things, and I have a feeling that won't stop any time soon. My text asks, Do you want my address? He responds before I can even put my phone away, saying to not worry about it. So I don't, for some reason.

About ten minutes later, there's a knock on my door. I'm nervous. Scared. Excited. Frightened. Regretful. Guilty. But also exhilarated. It's a strange whirl pool of emotions and I don't know which one to go after first. 

I take a deep breath and open the door. Warren is standing there in a sleek black suit and a bouquet of red roses and baby's breath flowers. My favorites. His eyes light up when he sees me.

"You look stunning, mi amor," he says. 

"I'm not your love. I have a boyfriend, remember?" 

"We'll see about that, my love," he winks and holds his hand out for me to take. If Erik knew about this I can just imagine how livid he would be. I take his hand anyways, and he hands me the bouquet.

"You know what's funny? These are my favorite flowers," I point out. Warren smirks, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. The same eyes I got lost in just a few hours earlier. 

What am I thinking?

"Lucky guess," he shrugs, nonchalantly, but the smile he still wears says there's something behind it. 

We enter the restaurant and wow. This place is gorgeous. I can only imagine how expensive it must be. Erik has never taken me anywhere like this before, not even for our first anniversary. Yet here I am, with a stranger who doesn't even know my name, at the fanciest restaurant in town on a first date. Is it a date? I hope so. I hope not.

We get led to a table in the back by a blonde waitress, and I can't help but notice all the guys staring at her as we walk by. Men. I shake my head. 

"The server will be right with you," she says. I nod once and smile. When she walks away I take in the room around me. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, there's glossy floors and gold accents adorn the walls. It truly is breathtaking. Like him. Stop it. For the first time since we've been here, I look at the man sitting across from me, to find him already staring. His eyes seem to glitter in the light. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask, propping my elbows up on the table and resting my head in my hands. He's silent for a moment, never breaking eye contact, a small smile starting to form on his lips. 

"I'm drowning in you, mi amor."