Chapter 20 Chapter 20
ALINA'S POV
What was he here for now? To oppress me some more again? Tell me what a clueless creative consultant I am and he wasn't sure I should get paid at all? What else, Roman?
I didn't turn.
At least not at first. But how could I not acknowledge the presence of my 'dearest boss' who came to pay me a visit down here in the still unfinished Seraph wing?
That wouldn't be right. So I turned, slowly, leather ropes boxes scattered at my feet, furry cuffs hanging like promises from half-assembled fuck-swings dangling from the ceiling…
The atmosphere dark, cloaked in dust and potential that was yet to emerge. A red-light strip barely alive.
And then there he was.
Roman Ward.
Standing beside the bondage frame like he owned every breath in the room. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled. Veins on his forearm thick like his pride. His dark hair in its usual style, eyes out of sight. Fixed on the St. Andrew’s cross he was examining. His fingers trailing the leather restraints — clinical, cold, annoyingly observant.
He didn’t look up immediately.
“Tightening the cuffs by two millimeters increases wrist burn-time by forty minutes,” he said without greeting.
Voice low. Dark. Informative in the most disrespectful way possible.
I stiffened.
“So now you’re a BDSM engineer?” I asked, staying rooted at my spot. Eyes watching him like a monkey ready to sprint, cause with Roman... You have got to be ready. Else, he'd sweep you off your feet in seconds leaving you raw and sore as he stared up at him from the floors.
“No." He straightened, eyes finally cutting to me. "I simply don’t half-ass things. Unlike your installer recommendation.”
Here we go again.
I inhaled. Slow.
Not rising to it. Not outwardly.
Even though I so wanted him to go piss himself off at some corner here in Oxygen.
“I chose him because he works fast, not because he’s perfect,” I said coolly, responding to him as I scanned the swing bolts. “You moved my deadline forward. I adapted.”
His jaw ticked.
Good. I'll annoy you too.
“And yet,” he stepped closer, heading for me. Too close, hovering in the darkness like a shadow I didn’t ask for. “The swing alignment is crooked." he said.
I opened my mouth to argue. But paused, my eyes slanting to it.
It was crooked — slightly. Barely noticeable unless you were obsessive with detail.
Asshole.
With a suppressed annoyed huff, and grumbles, I headed for it. Climbed the ladder, fixed it myself, refusing to ask for help.
He watched.
Hands in pockets.
Like the devil judging my soul.
Silence crackled underneath me as he stood. The kind charged enough to light the damn place. But at last, I finished. Jumped down. The ladder wobbling rebelliously, aiming to betray me right then, but he caught it. Held on. Tight. Fast. Pure reflex.
Then our eyes clashed.
No arrogance shining in his depths. No softness either. Just pure alarm and... tension.
Not the good kind.
Only the one that made me overly aware of how close we were. He noticed it too.
And we pulled away. Adjusting as I reached the floors completely.
“That’s better,” he said. No praise. Just fact as he stared at my adjustment up there.
I just rolled my eyes. “Congratulations. You now have eyes.”
His lip twitched. Irritation or amusement, I couldn’t tell but I hated both options.
I moved to the chaise layout he complained about when he came in. He followed.
Again, zero respect for personal space.
“Placement is wrong,” he said.
“It’s perfect.”
“It lacks provocation.”
“It seduces slowly.”
He stepped even closer, voice dropping low in my face.
"Seduction isn’t slow, Alina. It hits. Hard. Unavoidable. Makes you want what you're not ready for.”
I blinked, swallowing. Not because of him. But because of the way he said those words. The way they fell from his lips, green eyes pinned on mine. In the darkness of the room.
Almost predatory.
Like a sex lecture, but intense without even trying.
I watched him move from me, dragging a finger across the chaise leather. Slow, commanding...the hairs on my skin slowly rising. Like he was tracing my skin instead.
God. Focus, Alina!
I adjusted immediately. Repositioning the chaise one inch.
He crossed his arms. Watching.
“One more,” he said.
I moved it again.
Noting it looked better now. Hating that fact too. That he saw it first.
“There,” he murmured. “Now it looks like a sin waiting to happen."
I clenched my teeth. Refusing to thank him. Never.
Instead I said, “Don’t get too comfortable. One correct observation doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still an arrogant menace.”
He smirked. Slow, dark — like he enjoyed being hated right now.
“And one brilliant layout doesn’t erase the fact that you’re reckless coward, Alina.” he replied.
Yeah right, coward. Says the man not bold enough to call off a relationship he was no longer interested in.
Whatever anyway.
He wasn't...all bad in his corrections.
Was pretty smart if you look asides his sheer annoyingness. And he wasn't into designing of any sort. To have even the slightest knowledge on it, enough to give valuable corrections was a not a tiny affair.
He's always been smart after all. Straight A student right from highschool despite being the complete and utter opposite of your typical serious student.
"You're not so bad after all," I grumbled, turning away from him. But sadly he caught that.
"You're not so bad either when your mouth is shut." He said, facing the direction I'd turned to as well. Standing side by side.
I could've responded to that...but I just let it go. Was too tired anyways.