Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 70263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Why was I so on edge around him right now? All the other times, I’d been able to at least pretend like his presence didn’t rattle me. Maybe it was the way he stared at me, his dark eyes so intent and prying, as if he could sift through my darkest secrets and find out exactly who I was without me uttering a word.
“Lina, right?” He looked down at my name tag, and I nodded, licking my lips. He was staring at my mouth now, and I felt an intense flush cover my face at the fact that he watched me so hard. There was something behind his gaze, something that wasn’t apathetic. Something that was… heated.
And I felt an answering call from my body. It was uncomfortable and unusual.
It was exhilarating.
It was the first time I felt anything but the lonely despair that had always been crushing me.
“Yes,” I said with a stronger voice this time. “That’s what the name tag says,” I teased and offered him a smile, but he didn’t give me one in return. Which then had mine dying a slow, embarrassing death. “So.” I cleared my throat again. “The usual?”
He was silent for so long I wondered if he’d heard me. Had I said the words out loud or thought them? I certainly didn’t want to ask again and further embarrass myself. Maybe I should just turn and give him the space he clearly needed.
“I’m Arlo,” he finally said, and I felt my eyes widen at the piece of information he gave me. Because for some reason he seemed like a man who didn’t give anyone any part of himself. “Arlo Malkovich.”
I nodded slowly, not sure what to say, but then common sense kicked in, and I replied, “Lina Michaels.”
He leaned back in the chair and regarded me. “Lina Michaels.”
The way he said it made me feel as if I’d been caught evading the truth. Of course it was a lie, but if he was calling me out, he didn’t blatantly do it. I licked my lips again and nodded, not trusting my voice.
He tipped his chin in my direction. “What happened to your neck?”
There was this weird tone in his voice, as if he knew the answer to that question already. But clearly he couldn't have known the truth. I’d left while he’d still been finishing his meal, and my assailant had taken me into an alley. It had just been him and me until I left him clutching his family jewels and ran.
I found myself making sure my hair was still covering my neck before I shook my head. “Nothing. Just an unfortunate event.” I cleared my throat and started shifting on my feet, not liking the way his look made me feel.
But fortunately he didn’t press for more answers. I didn’t know why he even asked about my neck in the first place. It was very clear by his stoic expression he didn’t care one way or another.
“You come here quite frequently.” I could have slapped a hand over my mouth at what just came from me.
One of his dark eyebrows crept up ever so slightly, as if he was surprised I’d been so forward with my statement.
“I do,” he said slowly, evenly.
Tonight he wore a dark jacket, a white pressed shirt underneath. He looked more like a businessman than somebody who should be dining in the middle of the night at Sal’s.
I could see tattoos that crept up from underneath the collar of his shirt along the base of his throat. I could even see some on his wrists that also marked the back of his hands. I wondered how much more of him was covered in ink.
“Yes, the usual, Lina.”
The way he said my name sent a visible shiver through me. And it was very clear by his expression that he didn’t miss it.
My pulse was rushing through my ears, so I couldn’t think clearly, let alone speak. I forced myself to turn around and walk toward the back to put his order in, and once again, the entire time, I felt his gaze on me.
Who was this man? What was he to me? And how was I going to handle it?
7
Arlo
After I left Sal’s, I knew exactly where I needed to go.
Yama, or the Pit as it was called in English, was like a split personality. One where, on the surface, you had something pretty, something tolerable. Socially acceptable. Beautiful women, exotic drinks, an atmosphere expensive and pleasing to the eye. A man could get his wildest fantasies fulfilled in the rooms above.
But then there were the bowels of Yama. The pit of hell itself. And inside that was so deep and dark not even light penetrated.
And for a long time the Pit had been the only way for me to diminish some of the darkness that lived inside me.