The Meeting

Chapter 11- The King's Castle

I pull into Damien’s parking stall with uncertainty. The building is so large that it blocks out the glaring sun, throwing my car into shadow. I glance down at the email he sent to me earlier. He didn’t give me an apartment number so how am I supposed to know what floor to go to?

I scan to the end of the email and see the words ‘all the way to the top’. I tilt my head back to look at the top floor and it sends shivers down my spine. I don’t like heights. The fifth floor of my apartment is hard enough, but this looks like at least forty floors. I gulp back my fears and head into the large entrance way. A kind lady at the front desk greets me as I walk into the cool marble lobby.

“You can just head up dear,” she says with a smile. Damien must have told her that I was coming, but how did she know who I was?

The elevator ride is uncomfortable to say the least, and very long. I stop only a couple times on my way up, which I'm glad for. I wouldn’t want to postpone this any longer than necessary. When I finally reach the top floor, the doors slide open to a small marble room with only one door. It is a heavy metal door, unfitting with the rest of the building décor. I knock my knuckles against the rough material and the sound bounces off the walls like a ball. I hear scraping metal, like a bolt being opened and the door opens to Damien’s sexual glare.

He pulls on my hand and drags me into the apartment, a small smile on his face.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he whispers, pulling my face to his for a kiss. His soft lips wander along my jaw and his hands reverently pull off my jacket. I smile, letting him take it off and wriggle from his grasp to take a look around. He groans in frustration, but goes to hang my jacket.

“I would have been here a lot sooner if you hadn’t chosen the top floor. That elevator is very slow,” I say whilst walking around the apartment. I make a mental note to not go near the large windows or, heaven forbid, go on the balcony. At least not yet. 

I run my hand across the smooth material of the large sectional couch in the middle of the room and watch Damien lazily lock the door again by pulling a large latch across.

“Expecting visitors? Or, maybe you’re trying to lock me in?” My tone is half serious and half joking. He raises an eyebrow at me.

“I like my privacy and security when it comes to you,” he says, now pouring a drink at the small bar over in the corner. He brings me a small glass of amber liquid, which I eye with suspicion. “Don’t worry, only a little glass. I don’t want you passing out on me again. Besides, we have work tomorrow.” Yes, work. I let some of the liquid slide down my throat and I’m surprised at how tasty it is.

“What is it?” I tip the glass and finish the rest of it.

“Secret recipe, sorry,” he says with a grin. He runs his hand through his messy black hair and I survey what he is wearing. He has dark blue jeans on, which ride very low on his hips, and a regular t-shirt with some strange design on the front. He looks very… normal. He catches me looking at him and gives me his lopsided grin. He holds his arms out and spins for me. “Yes, I do dress like a normal human being when I’m not at work. It’s not all suits and ties, you know.”

“I like the suits and ties,” I say with a blush, remembering what he can do with the tie.

“Like it better than this?” He comes up to me and slips his arm around my waist, no doubt reading my thoughts. He brushes a finger across my blazing cheek and then plants a soft kiss on it. “I love how expressive your face is. I know what you’re thinking, and I would be glad to recreate the situation if you like?”

I giggle stupidly and pull away, wanting to spend some time actually talking to him for once. 

“Maybe later,” I say with a wink. His eyebrows furrow slightly, but he doesn’t press it.