Fifty Shades of BLACK SILK

BLACK SILK: Part 25

I fidgeted with the hemline of my vintage Dior dress.

"Are you okay?" Christian asked.

I nodded, forcing an unconvincing smile. "I'm fine."

Christian took me to Vietnamese restaurant. I had always pegged him as this guy who didn't enjoy exotic food, or any seasoning beyond salt and pepper, but turns out I was wrong. Not only was I wrong, but it appeared to have a cordial relationship with all the chefs at these five-star restaurants. I mean, I have connections, as an articles editor, it lends itself certain privileges, but one can only dream of having the kind of privileges Christian has attained over the course of his short years.

Whenever a silence arose, I couldn't help but think about what Kimberly said. Her words repeated in my mind: 'off the record' doesn't always mean 'off the record'. It wasn't sitting well with me. It barely was invited to the table. Kimberly has always been a driving force of innovative thought. I once looked up to her; I wanted to be on the pedestal she was looking down at everyone from. But apparently, it was a pedestal made from broken pieces of timber and duct tape, glued together with the same crass as her indelicate inhibitions. It only took one meeting with her for me to finally realise those fragmented pieces of wood were tearing out from underneath her. Maybe it was our publisher; maybe it was someone higher up, pressuring her into pressuring others. Maybe I wanted to believe that was the case. I didn't want to believe that this was who she really is. It felt like finding out my favourite hero didn't deserve their cape.

"Are you sure?" Christian asked for the five hundredth time.

I chuckled. "I'm fine."

He watched me carefully. "You seem tense."

"I thought you like tense women."

He shook his head. "Not this tense."

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. "I just have stresses, as we all do."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I harrumphed. "You? Talk?"

"That's...funny?"

"I've been following you around for how long now?" I noted. "Talking isn't one of your strong suits."

His jaw ticked. "Talking about myself isn't, letting others talk is."

"You should've been a hostage negotiator, then."

The waiter held out a bottle of their finest. "Merlot." He shoved the corkscrew into the squishy wood and it squeaked as he turned the handle before yanking out the cork.

"Don't slosh the wine," Christian commanded. Rather rudely, I might add, the tip of my nose twitched at his stern tone.

"Yes, sir," the waiter said reassuringly, completely unfazed by Christian.

Christian leaned in when the waiter left. "You know, there are many ways we can relieve that stress for you."

I broke into a little giggle. "Oh?"

He shrugged. "I know a few ways."

"Oh."

"Ways that you were privy to once."

"Oh."

"Do you know any other word besides 'oh'? Not that I'm entirely complaining."

Oh, yeah, I bet he loves the big O.

"You know," I rubbed my temples with my fingertips, "I have a headache. I don't think expensive wine is going to fix it. I'll just stick to water."

"You really don't want to tell me, huh?" he asked.

"This feels more like the Spanish Inquisition than a date."

"I'll talk to Kimberly."

"No!" I cried, reaching out with my hands and clinking some silverware accidentally. A few tables looked our away. "I—I mean, it's none of your business," I hissed, lowly.

"Excuse me?"

"Why do you have to butt into my life? Why can't you just give me a proper profile and leave me alone?"

"All the stuff you write before didn't suffice? Is that it?"

I scoffed. "Still trying to figure it out, huh?"

"Kimberly works for me more than you know."

I shook my head. "You're hopeless."

He tilted his head. "Not as hopeless as you."

Oh wow. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, come off it. You try and try to hide as much as you can, you stake out the moral high ground as your own, but you yourself are as invested in me as I am into you."

"Ugh, I don't have to listen to this." I stood.

"Where are you going? Sit down."

"This is bullshit."

I flung my napkin onto the table and skipped out of the restaurant with curious eyes trailing my every move. I didn't even wait for Christian or his driver. I headed down an alleyway, so it was difficult for the car to even catch up to me. The end of the alleyway seemed to grow farther and farther away, I heard bottles clinking on the floor behind me where two men were walking nonchalantly. Just look ahead, Madison.

"Hey, sexy!" one guy yelled; the other cackled darkly.

My heart thudded. I hastened my pace, almost having reached the end of the alleyway when two more tall men jumped out from nowhere, blocking my path and towering over me.