Crimson Core: Awakened Desire

Chapter 7: A Clumsy Escape Artist

My fingers clawed at Argento's unyielding grip, my efforts as futile as a bird tangled in unbreakable vines. His hand was like a shackle around my delicate wrist, and despite my fiercest efforts, I couldn't break free.

 I shot him a sideways glance, my eyes burning with fierce determination.

"Let go," I hissed, tugging harder, though it felt like trying to pull my arm from solid rock.

"Stop it," Argento commanded, his voice a low rumble that cut through the hustle of the busy street. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Where are you taking me?"

As we strode down Second Avenue. I scanned for any possible escape route, desperate for a way to distance myself from this being. 

"Somewhere we can talk," he replied, his tone as cryptic as ever.

"Again with wanting to talk. You have the wrong person there is nothing for us to say to each other."

But he didn't seem fazed at all by my reply, he kept on walking, holding my wrist in his ironclad hand. 

Desperation gnawed at me when I spotted a familiar Irish bar, a place Iris and I often visited to unwind after long nights. 

Seizing the opportunity, I blurted out, "I need to use the restroom. Now."

"Can't it wait?" Argento's tone was flat, unmoved by my plea.

But I dug my heels into the pavement, feigning urgency with every ounce of acting skills I had.

"No, I really can't!"

The panic in my voice was almost convincing enough to fool even me.

With a reluctant sigh, Argento steered me toward a dingy dive bar, but I resisted, my voice rising above the city's noise.

"Not there! It's filthy. The one next door—it's cleaner, trust me."

We navigated through the crowd inside the bustling establishment, the air buzzing with the energy of soccer fans riveted by the match on the screen.

"Find a seat," I instructed, pointing toward the back of the bar near the restrooms. "It'll look weird if you follow me in there."

Argento leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he murmured, "I'll be waiting outside the door."

There was a playful glint in his silver eyes as if he knew what I was thinking and found my efforts amusing.

"Better yet, order our drinks—food, too," I said, thrusting my credit card into his hand. My fingers brushed against his palm, and I forced myself to meet his gaze. 

"We'll talk here, surrounded by people. I feel... safer."

A smirk tugged at the corner of Argento's lips as he accepted the card. I made a mental note to cancel that card as soon as I was safe at home. 

Without another word, I turned on my heel and slipped into the sanctuary of the ladies' room, leaving Argento amidst the rowdy patrons.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I bolted toward the last stall in the restroom—the one Iris had dubbed our "emergency exit" after a particularly disastrous blind date several years ago. It was an escape route meant for desperate times, and this, I fervently decided, was one of them. 

Frantically, I jimmied the window latch, but my fingers kept slipping on the stubborn metal.

"Bad date?"

A voice startled me as another woman emerged from a neighboring stall, eyeing me with a sympathetic smile.

"Something like that," I panted, barely sparing a glance at the stranger who washed her hands with casual efficiency.