Falling for a Trained Killer

The Madison Square Garden triplex of New York was truly elegant. As I looked up to the penthouse, immaculate architecture was a form of perfection through art. The penthouse was where the party myself and Louis were invited to was currently taking place. I made my way to the top floor as he had instructed. Despite the beautiful surroundings I now find myself in, I don’t want to be here. I never wanted to come to this engagement in the first place. But, I had a purpose with tonight.    I’m the only one in the elevator and so I take a last opportunity to look over myself in the mirror. I’m wearing my favorite dress and high heels. The dark green satin matches my eyes and is a perfect color contrast to my tight curly red hair. The back is a low swoop not allowing a bra. It fits tight over my breasts with a small dip in the middle over my chest allowing the contour of the two curves to fall a little lower then I admit I would usually wear. A single line of satin halters around my neck to hold them up. My waist is small, the hard work of my morning jogs. The fabric turns to an even richer green as it flows long to my ankles and rests just above the simple black high heels.   I’m not tall, at a meager 5’3, but I have never minded it. Friends always comment on my petite size but I like being small. I like the ability offered to be those few inches taller when I wear high heels too. My fingers and toes are painted a dark crimson red like blood which sets starkly to the black and green. I look down and away slightly knowing that I choose this particularly sexy dress tonight for a reason. With what I was about to do, I wanted Louis to know what he was about to lose because of his actions.    I feel myself taking a heavy breath and as I exhale I can’t mask the fact it sounds like a hesitant sigh. I approach the only door from the elevator where there is a man with an earpiece looking at a gold folder. The immediate dulling sound of classical baroque is audible beyond the next door that leads to the penthouse. I approach and, yes, my name was on the guest list as the man checked over everything. He had to look twice but found my name etched in pencil. An extra addition not a few hours ago. He allowed me in.    I am reminded that I was a last-minute addition to that list because of Louis. If I had not been on that list I would be turning around right now, and at the moment, I kind of like that idea. After the waiter at the door allowed me in, he went back to the elevator to go down stairs. Did that mean I was the last guest to arrive? I looked at my light gold watch hanging slightly loose on my thin wrist. It was nearly midnight. I was arriving rather late, wasn’t I? I imagine Louis will not be happy about that.    A room filled with expensive dresses in the large apartment was intoxicating. Beautiful women spoke with attractive well-groomed men holding glasses of champagne and scotch. If I had a camera shot right now it would be something similar to a description from a Bronte Sister’s novel taking visual form. The essence of musty essential oils, old leather, and dust make me feel like I have entered an old library, not a penthouse.     I was going to end it with Louis tonight. I would not wait a second longer. Louis’ temper was the best of him and I have had enough. Looking over the guests I found him, just visible by the small bar waiting for me. His blond short cut hair was perfect. His beard, which I had never liked, was recently trimmed. He wore a dark blue shirt, a dinner jacket, and black pants with a dark brown belt and he wore the outfit well. I could not deny that he was good looking. He was financially successful as a partner in a law firm. As a regular attendant at the gym, ambitious at work, and taking pride in his appearance, on paper he was the perfect match that I would normally look for. But the way that he treated me, the knock back into the table last night when we had fought, came sharply back to focus. He smiled which made me look away. This was going to be difficult.    “Can we talk for a minute in private?” I ask not even giving a hello as he walks over to me with two glasses of champagne in either of his hands.    Louis frowned but I did not give him the satisfaction of knowing what it was about. He could figure that out on his own. Without waiting for him to agree, I started to make my way from the party to the large marble balcony that looked over central park. I can hear my heels click against the grey marble tiles. The air is cool summer June and, regardless of the height, still has that all to definable, New York scent. It was an unarguably beautiful night. The breeze was refreshing, and at this height, the smog of the city on the streets below did not have their stench. A privilege that the elite of New York could enjoy at this level over the city.    “Louis there is something I must discuss with you.”   “Diana, if this is about last night, you know I did not mean it.” Louis said putting either of the glasses down on a glass table outside.    “It’s not about last night.” I said firmly, calming my nerves.    Last night was only part of the cultivation of what was about to happen now. I noticed a shadow flinch at the side of the balcony. We were not alone. While Louis’ attention is clearly on me, I turned my head slightly to see the silhouette of a man in a black suit. He wore white pearl buttons on a black silk dinner shirt. He smoked a cigarette looking over the city. His back was to Louis and I. The puff of the smoke danced through the night air which seemed eerily beautiful. There was a strange feeling in my stomach that this man was very important given by the way that he held himself. He rested either of elbows in a lean over the park as though he owned the place. It was intimidating. Who was he? I found myself wondering. But that was not my concern. He was far enough away to give Louis and I privacy. I looked back at Louis and the task at hand.    “I don’t think that this is working out.” I say quickly just wanting it to be over with.    “Are you kidding me? You are breaking up with me over last night?” he asked and I heard an irritation in his voice.   How dare he be upset about this! I should be the one that is angry!   “It’s over Louis.” I stated.   He didn’t deserve an explanation. Not after how he acted last night, and if he wanted one he was not getting it from me. I walk past him back towards the entrance of the balcony. This was going to be short and quick. Louis took my arm with his hand as I moved past him.    “It’s not over until I say it is.” He demanded and I can feel the brace of his fingers tighten on my bicep.   My mind races to yesterday night. Our argument over why I was supposed to come to this party when I didn’t want to. He wanted me to come to show to his colleagues that he was in a stable relationship with a beautiful independent woman. When I said I was nothing but a trophy for him to show off to his firm and advance his career, was when he pushed me against the side of the table and then threw my lamp against the wall, shattering it to a million pieces as if it was a good way to show off. It was when I saw the bruise this the morning on the side of my thigh from when he pushed me, I had made my resolve to end this.    “Louis you are hurting me.” I murmur and think of the stranger behind us.    Is he still there? Is he watching this? Why do I care?   “I told you it’s not over!” he shouted and his hand on my arm compressed into to my skin with an instant shot of pain up to my neck.    I lifted my hand to slap him if only to get free and run from the balcony. I gasp my lips falling open slightly as I hit his cheek. My fingers make contact and immediately went tingling numb. All I wanted was for him to release my arm. I did not mean to hit him that hard, or did I? He turned his cheek at the strike. His irritation with me had quickly turned to fury and I am immediately frightened.    I can see his hand lift to strike me. Why am I not moving?