DAWNING POINT (AgeTabooRomance)

Chapter 11

His eyes slipped down my body like a current, heat mixed with complete disinterest; the way a you looked at someone less than valuable but possibly useful.

The ringing in my ears was deafening as I stood motionless, as if encased within the form of a statue, fingers curled tightly around the doorknob, sight blaring into the man across the void. Enduring the silence was painful as my brain attempted to absorb what was in front of me, my thoughts fleeting at the image of Manning's tall dark form, dressed in black just like the times I'd seen him prior, with the one most repetitive and incomprehensive question being: what the hell was he doing here?!

I already knew. Of course I did.

I knew why he was here, but I couldn't bring myself to give in to the reality of it. Not yet. I had to hear the words from his mouth, and until then, this was all some senseless dream like the black eyes that plagued me through the night like fever. Manning had already taken my conscious and unconscious hostage with his complicated bullshit, and now he was fitting to take control at my work.

The Harbour was my livelihood; he wouldn't have taken it this far just to hurt me, would he?

Did he?

As dramatic and quite ridiculous the question sounded in my head, I became quickly more terrified that it might be true with each passing second. After all, control was a compulsion people – more often men, exhibited throughout history – fed in order to satisfy their innate need for power or control over something.

Or someone.

It only depended how sick they were, or possibly how far they were willing to go... Was this how far he was willing to go to shut me up or put me down?

Manning moved first. Steady steps led him around the desk, the black dress shoes that I knew he was wearing without having to check, clacking against the wooden floorboards of the office he now occupied. He leant back, his behind resting against the table's edge as he crossed one ankle over the other, large hands clasped in his lap. He moved with such fluidity, almost gracefully, as though he was on show for witnesses absent of the room, eyes traced on mine as he indicated the chair before him with an open palm before folding it back in his lap again.

I felt the snarl on my face sink deeper into my young skin, but tipped my chin up defiantly, the way I had become accustomed to in preparing myself for his impending assault.

He waited for some response, resting languidly against the table, the visual so deceiving of Manning's true and deep-rooted nature: not calm, not considerate, not reasonable.

Knowing better than to entertain the challenge, I made no advance. I kept the space between us. Space was necessary for me to keep myself in check. Anytime he got too close I felt the walls close in and lost my head, which made the shame all the worse later, solely on the basis that he could make me feel anything in the first place, no matter how minimal.

Manning's head tilted to the side, either snidely indulging me or quietly laughing at me; probably both. The stubble along his cheeks, jaw and upper lip were cleanly trimmed, no longer than the last time I'd seen him, accentuating his sophisticated, tapered appearance. But the light shading of beard did nothing to hide the half grin that pulled at one corner of his lips.

Those lips...

If only people knew what I knew, though.

Manning was a wolf. And once his teeth came out, there was no mistaking him for anything other than a beast in a nice suit.

With that being said, I guess I could make sense of the confusion to those with an untrained mind.

When I'd met him in the restaurant the first time, he was vile; bad tempered and entitled, without a care for those below him on the scale of success.