CAELAN'S PREY

Part 4- Play up

Part 4

"So how old are you, Ms. Matthews?" He asked, breaking the silence surrounding us. The drive was strangely slow in starting for me. Did he even consider his rest? It was getting late, and at this pace, we’d surely take time to get home.

I softly cleared my throat. "I'm running 22 this year." I kept it short, probably he'd stop asking and just drive.

He hummed. "Tell me more about yourself." He surprised me with that rather authoritative question. I glanced at him to see if he was in earnest rather than asking for the sake of having a topic for a chat, but with a staid face, eyes on the road, he looked as if everything was just casual as if he didn't make me uncomfortable with his question.

I sighed. "Okay. Where do you want me to start with? My parents? Education? Relationship? Because really, I don't know what to say. I'm boring. My life is...yeah, there's nothing much to know about me." I shrugged.

To begin with, an unhappy life was not something you'd want to share with someone whom you had just met. Moreover, this would be our last meeting. Sharing who I am would surely be strange. Who is he? FBI?

"You can start with your relationship with your..." He said, slightly raising his shoulders like dismissing something as unimportant.

"You mean my boyfriend?" I asked, frowning. Why did I have this feeling that he didn't like to say the word or hear the word? Also, start with my boyfriend? He's hilarious.

He hummed. Again.

"He's...nice. He's 25 years of age and has been his boyfriend for two years now. Hmmm, what's more? He's a software developer."

"Why is he not picking you up? Or answering your call?"

"Busy, I guess," I looked out of the window. " He's been so busy these past few days, which is okay. He always says he must, for the future. And I don't get my nose into his business."

"Working hard for the future. He's perhaps considering a life with you."

"A life with me. I haven't thought about that. He hasn't shown signs that he'd want to settle down anytime soon either." I glanced at him. Skeptical. "Why are we talking about it, anyway? We just met."

He gave a light chuckle. But he didn't say anything.

"You know what, you're suspicious." I blurted out.

I saw his upper lip quirk upward, but I couldn't really tell if he was surprised or amused.

"That's quite a deduction, Ms. Matthews."

"And I don't like that name. Too formal to my ears. Call me, Scarlette."

"Scarlette..." The name rolled out of his tongue, and it sounded sensual the way he pronounced it. Damn, forget about sensual Scarlette- "Call me Caelan, then." He threw me a glance for a second before focusing his eyes back on the road.

"Caelan..." I like the sound of his name; it was unique.

"Yeah,"

"Alright, Caelan it is." I gave him a smile, though he couldn't see it since his eyes remained focused on the road.

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"Thank you," I told him with a smile. "And also, for forgetting the incident," I said the moment we reached my place and got out of the car.

"Who says about forgetting?" He asked. An enigmatic smile painted over his lips. "I don't mean to forget it, Scarlette. I aim to keep it."

"What do you mean? We're through it, aren't we? You’re certainly not keeping a grudge because of what happened. That would be very shallow of you, Mr. Henderson."

“Caelan,” he corrected.

“Caelan it is. I see it as a trivial incident. It’s something forgettable. Your car has been repaired, I’m forgiven, you go home, get some sleep, and tomorrow you’ll forget it, trust me.”

He walked back to his car. "There are things meant to be forgiven, but never forgotten, Scarlette."

"What?" The question was ignored. He had already slid back inside his car, leaving me confused about what he meant by it.

Would I see him again? Did he think of a different way of having me pay off the debt? But it was forgiven, Or I was just paranoid. I shook my head briskly. He should be a busy man. Why spare time? And I was a busy woman, I had no time for his puzzle.

Righty-ho, forget him, Scarlette.

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"You're home late again. It has been regular. You sure you’re, okay?" I asked Travis; he came home around 30 minutes before midnight.

Time is always slow when you have to wait for someone. Indeed, it is. And to say it's rather annoying doesn't need to be mentioned.

I was already ready to sleep and had been glancing at the clock while lying on my bed as I waited for him to come home because every time, he'd informed me he'd visit for a sleepover, I stayed awake until he arrived. I just couldn't sleep soundly, knowing a visitor would come knocking on my door or—in his case—would suddenly touch me when I was deeply asleep. And every time, I had to wait for an hour or two before we could finally hit the hay.

"Mighty fine, babe. Just work and all." He said as he strolled inside the bathroom, leaving the door slightly open. "I'll make it up next time, babe." His voice was almost muffled by the strong sound of the water streaming from the shower.

"You better." I pouted and closed my eyes, "We haven't gone anywhere for two weekends now. I've been stressed and exhausted. A quick escape won't hurt."

"I know. The project I'm currently working on is just occupying most of my time. A colleague had screwed the pooch into the system and we're still resolving the issue. This weekend, we're definitely going somewhere."

"Really?" My heart gave a sudden jolt of excitement as I quickly sat up, "Where? I'm excited already." I said, feeling giddy with excitement.

I heard him give a light chuckle. "And that excitement will grow dull when I tell you where, so don't kill the thrill." He said, looking sexy with how he ruffled his wet hair with the towel.

I hummed and ran my tongue over my lips, "Then I have the whole weekday to contain this excitement."

"And be tortured."

I scoffed. "You like it when I'm tortured."

"Oh, how I love it when you are." He dragged the last part, making me bite my lips as I felt the pooling of liquid between my legs. My eyes lowered to the towel hanging around his hips. "I know that look, babe." He groaned.

"You do?"

"Yeah," he softly smiled, "but, damned babe, I'm tired." He sighed, quickly killing the building heat in my body like cold water, killing off the fire and forming the steam up to nothingness but disappointment.

When did we last become intimate? A week ago? Two weeks ago? I sighed. My brain couldn't even remember when the exact day was when I died and went back to earth, loved and sated.

"Yeah, likewise. Just at least wear a boxer," I grumbled.

I understand that he was tired, but in the last few weeks, I could feel our s*x life becoming less exciting. Boring. I couldn't even remember his touch on my skin.

Many have spun a yarn, talking about relationships getting broken because of unfaithfulness. There are signs women must be very conscious of and take note of. "Men cheat, and it's in their nature to cheat" A friend once told me. Her opinion was somehow biased because women cheat as well. But I am a firm believer that once you love someone so dearly, cheating will never be a choice. Yes, there will be many temptations, but it is up to him to give in to it.

I didn't really think it would happen to me either, because I could feel his love and interest, but...he changed. His behaviors these days sometimes led me to have an unwanted intuition.

"Goodnight, babe." He murmured, ripping me from my displeased thoughts; he spooned me from behind, planting kisses on the exposed skin on my back. He didn't need to hear my response though; he was out like a light.

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"I heard you got into trouble. How did it go?" Devy asked. We were currently having our lunch.

"How did you know?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "At the security department. They said you had crossed with the devil's son."

"That's an exaggeration. He was no devil." I said nonchalantly as I munched down the first bite of my chocolate dessert. I noticed her brow skeptically raised. "You're giving me that look as if I'm joking."

"Are you?"

"No-" I drank from the glass of my grapefruit juice, "he was okay. Courteous, I think."

She snorted. "Courteous," she muttered like the word was right acidic on her tongue.

"Do you know him?"

"How was your boyfriend?" She asked, deliberately changing the topic, and just hearing the tag, I was reminded of the failed attempt to seduce him. It was two days ago. Two freaking days had passed, and we hadn't had s*x yet. He had called last night saying he was late to get home.

"Busy,"

"I haven't really seen him drop by to pick you up, no? He must really be that swamped."

"Just like me, like us, he also needs his time to prove his worth in the company. It's a dream for him to be promoted. Besides, we're going somewhere this weekend— a staycation. We'll spend two days somewhere, he said in surprise, and that can make up for the days he left me bored and frustrated." I giggled.

She gasped excitedly, "That sounds romantic. I knew this place where many couples go and spend an entire week; it's overlooking a view of nature with an outdoor pool on the top of a mountain. I'll show you later, perhaps you can drag your boyfriend's ass in there and hibernate for a week." She giggled.

"Oh, I wish." Smiling, I looked at her, crooking one of my brows. "Have you tried? Hibernating with your boyfriend there for a week?" I asked, teasingly.

"Girl, I don't have a boyfriend. It's a waste of time." Her dark brown eyes widened at me as she boringly drank her orange juice, but I could see she wasn't telling the truth.

"You are pretty, Devy and kind. Not to mention you look...hot. You must be lying about not having a boyfriend."

A pleased smile stretched across her lips. "Don't tickle me pink, Scar. I might go grab the man on hand around us here," she grinned as she looked around.

The more I get to know Devy, the more I see her personality. She's a high-spirited woman. At first, I thought I had to be very polite around her as she is my senior at work, and considering our age, she is five years my senior, yet her friendliness and openness draw me closer to her each day.

Chuckling, I clicked my tongue, "You do have a boyfriend, don't you?"

"Let's drop it. It's a long story. You'll see him one day. I just can't decide right now, someone in my family's so strict about it, for heaven's sake, I'm 27 but still restricted like a nun."

"So, you're a virgin?" The question left my mouth fast. Too late to take it back. She gasped as her head whipped around, making me think over the question, and silently scolding myself. "I'm sorry, so stupid of me," I whispered.

"I don't think they heard us, really. Let's get outta here," her cheeks flushed as she grabbed her bag.

"Sure, sure." I bit my lip, embarrassed at the question. We weren't that close enough to ask a very personal question, yet my mouth couldn't be filtered for once.

"I'm sorry, if...if I offended you. It just slipped right through me." I told her when we reached the outside. We were heading back to the office.

She chortled. "Offended? That would be very close-minded of me if I were Scar. I honestly don't care if they heard us. What's wrong with being a virgin at 27," she genuinely laughed.

Waiting for the taxi to get past, I asked her, "So, you're indeed a virgin?" She hooked her arm with mine as we crossed the street.

"Yeah, sadly." She said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Wow, I mean, wow, how could he keep his hands off you? He must be a saint."

She cracked. "Far from that, only that my brother is a big asshole-son-of-lucifer that wherever I go, he goes, so damn annoying." She exhaled sharply.

"You're brother?"

"Yeah, I mean, not really following me wherever I go. It’s just that he knows where I go." Rolling her eyes, she said.

"I can't understand why."

"Me neither. But I now have an idea to get back at him. He'll be kneeling before me," she stated matter-of-factly.

"You sound very sure."

"I'm pretty sure of it this time," she gave me a wink.

I giggled. "Good luck with that,"

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I knocked twice before gently pushing the door open for Mr. Perrier’s office. He was on the phone and signaled a hand asking me to wait. After carefully placing down the papers and reports on the table, I stepped near the door and waited.

"The pleasure is mine, Dr. Gibson. The meeting is set for next week, Monday— yes — right, I'd be happier to do so. She had to stop and smell the roses. Life is short," Mr. Perrier said with a chuckle.

At 56, he was a robust man and a very family-oriented person. His family was always his priority. I could say that even though I was just new to the company.

They talked more for a little bit. And I was patiently waiting for him until, finally, he said goodbye to the person he was speaking to- must be a familiar client.

He looked at me through his reading glass as he picked each of the compiled reports and browsed through, "That was Dr. Gibson from Heart Memorial Hospital. I'll be meeting the man on Monday next week. This is another successful negotiation." He smiled.

"The marketing proposal sounded great, Sir, when I got the chance to read it."

"We almost made the cut when the hospital required complicated requirements, but here we are, the day is saved." He heartily chuckled.

"That's wonderful, Sir."

"Si, si." He nodded as he proceeded to check the papers.

"These are the financial and statistical information for the month of September, and the company's new brochures, Sir,"

"Thank you." He grabbed another blue document, "Mr. Devaughn should be in his office. Tell him this is what he asked me for last week."

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I made it to the 12th floor of the building, which was the boss's floor; Mr. Devaughn's secretary wasn't there. My watch told me it was too early to go home. I strolled past her table and went straight to the door.

I pressed the intercom to his office—new age and, over the odds, if you knocked, he would not let you in; there was also an embedded keypad intercom that would allow you a direct entrance if you knew the code which I presumed only families knew about.

The door slid open, and I swiftly walked in.

"Don't make me laugh. You wear your heart on your sleeve, eh?"

The boss was not alone. There was another man; his back was facing me. Mr. Devaughn gave me a courtly nod.

"Ms. Matthews? I'm expecting you. You have the documents?" He asked.

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Perrier asked me to give this to you," I handed him the papers.

I turned to greet his company. Oh...

If I hadn't been quick enough to catch my breath, the sharp exhale of air out of my mouth would have been rather obvious.

"G-good afternoon," I greeted him as I cleared my throat. Did I stammer?

I smiled.

"Morning," was his clipped response. My smile instantly faded. His grey eyes were expressionless. Superficial. Did he recognize me? It seemed to me that he didn’t.

"Thank you, Ms. Matthews," Mr. Devaughn said.

I gave a slight bow of my head, "My pleasure, Sir." I briefly looked at him but he was already busy checking something on his phone.

I moved toward the door at a regular pace, confused. He was quick to forget faces.

"I don't mean to forget it, Scarlette. I aim to keep it." His words rang clear in my head.

See who easily forgets? I internally rolled my eyes and shrugged my shoulders. As I told him, sleep and forget it. He just did. Sad to say, I didn’t.

I couldn't deny it, but I was a bit embarrassed— or hurt— by his insouciance. I just couldn't explain it. When you know someone, a courteous hi or hello would suffice.

What did I expect?