Mr. Mysterious In Black (17 page)

“I don’t know why, but when I woke this morning, I’d felt so darn tired as if I’d never slept at all. That dream felt so real…” I trailed off.

“What was your dream about?” He frowned. “You did have a troubled expression when you woke.”

“That’s the thing, I can’t remember it for shit. But my mind won’t let it go.”

He took my hand in his, then directed his gaze towards the balcony, but didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. “Who’s Nelly?”

“What?”

“You kept murmuring the name ‘Nelly’ while you slept. Someone I don’t know about?” His gaze remained towards the balcony, his expression distraught.

“Someone
I
don’t know about. I was frickin’ dreaming, Natalio. And I told you, I don’t remember what about.”

Silence ensued as he circled his thumb in my lifeline. Abruptly, I sat up for I felt as if I’d been hit in the head with a brick. An acute headache pounced on me.

“Are you okay?” Natalio’s voice was etched with worry.

“Headache.”

“You need food,” he affirmed. “I had made you breakfast, but you just slept on.”

“I’m not hungry. I’ve been getting these headaches quite frequently since I’ve met you.”

“A cup of coffee?” he suggested, ignoring the latter part of my statement.

Only because I knew he’d be insistent, I countered, “Hot chocolate.”

He kissed my knuckles, and I noticed a platinum band with a solid gold line around the middle on his index finger. With a tilt of my head, I stared at it in scrutiny. It looked oddly familiar. Natalio took note of my sudden interest in his ring, but said nothing. Merely looked at me intently.

Maybe I’d seen it in a jewelry store or magazine or something, I shrugged.

Natalio sighed loudly as he rose to his feet, more like a sigh of frustration. “I’ll get your hot chocolate.”

I nodded in acknowledgment and leaned back on the headboard. What’s up with these pounding headaches every damn minute?

Natalio soon returned with a tray bearing blueberry muffins, a small bowl of fruits and a big black mug of hot chocolate. He made a beeline for the balcony, setting the tray down on a round cornice table that provided seating for four with rotund, black and white-designed chairs that oozed comfort. Their cozy appearance gave me the desire to curl myself up into one of them and sleep, crawling right back into my dreams.

Once he was back by the bedside, he held out his hand to me. “Up.”

Flinging the covers back, I climbed out of bed and took his hand. For several heartbeats, he just gazed at me passionately, though something poignant glinted in the depth of his eyes. He brushed his thumb across my lower lip and my breath hitched. My headache virtually forgotten.

Led by Natalio to the balcony, I was told to sit.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry,” I said, gesturing to the tray.

“You need aspirins for your headache. And I won’t permit you any pills on an empty stomach. So eat something.”

“You’re so commanding sometimes,” I complained. At times, he was controlling and other times, though rare, he was sycophantic. His personality was incomprehensible.

Natalio snorted. “I’m a wimp when it comes to you, Sadie. But I’ve learned to hold my grounds around you. You’re so swift and mischievous—” He stopped abruptly and a fleeting expression crossed his face. Unconsciously, he began twisting the ring around his finger. Something’s troubling him and I couldn’t tell what it was. And
what
was it about that ring?

“Eat,” he ordered softly, as he opened his laptop and began typing.

With a nod, I obeyed and opted for a blueberry muffin. After swallowing the first bite, I realized that I was indeed hungry. In record time, I’d eaten both muffins and all the fruits in the bowl, leaving behind the pineapple slices. I hated pineapples.

Natalio flashed me a wry grin. “I sure wouldn’t like see when you
are
hungry.”

He received an apologetic smile from me.

He stood up and disappeared into the room, returning shortly with a glass of water and two aspirins. “Now, you can take these.”

And that I did. It was amazing how smoothly things could go when you relax and allow the man to take charge.

Stuffed to the capacity, I leaned back in the most comfortable chair I’ve ever been in; looking out at the picturesque view granted from a balcony twenty-seven storeys high. It felt normal and right being around him, as if he’d always been a part of my life. His presence brought me comfort, and, for some reason, made me smile—about nothing in particular. Natalio closed down his laptop, came to stand behind me and began massaging my temples.

Boy, does he know how to make a woman relax. His long fingers massaged my forehead briefly, and then back to my temples. This was so relaxing and sleep-inducing, that I wondered idly if he’d been to a massage school or something. The way he did most things was so calculated and measured, composed, and carefully thought out. Such grants the understanding that whenever his anger surfaces, it was mainly because things were out of his control.

“Spend the day with me,” he suggested. “The night, too.”

“I planned on visiting my mother today,” I replied in all serenity. Though I wasn’t sure I’d want to leave these pampering arms.

“I thought you only visited her on Thursdays?”

My eyes flew open. “How do you know—” I stopped myself, knowing darn well that it would be a silly question, seeing that he’d already made me aware that he knew everything about me. Neither was I in the mood to rehash such conversation or trigger his perplexing side. “I spent all day Thursday out on the sea with a host of pompous moneybags, and on Friday and Saturday my mood was morose. So I never went to see her. I stayed at home all day and sewed.”

“
And
ignored my calls,” he added.

“Yes, that too,” I confirmed on a laugh. Which reminds me… “What’s the meaning of that poem you sent?”

“Whatever you want it to mean.”

“It meant nothing to me. Just befuddled me.”

His hands stilled for a beat. “Then it means nothing.” He sounded wounded.

“Natalio, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…” I paused, being sure to choose my words carefully. The man could be real sensitive at times. “Poetry is mind-screwing. It’s not straightforward and it never means what you think it means. Always something far beyond; more profound. Prompting one to read it over and over, dissevering and deciphering. It’s too laborious a task, so I’ve never been a fan of poetry.”

Natalio remained silent.

I tried again. “It’s said that no one ever truly knows the real meaning of a poem but the poet. Would the poet, N.N., care to divulge the true meaning behind his work?”

I felt, rather than saw, his smile. “Some other time. Not now.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “Expect me to ask again.”

“Spend the day with me. Stay the night,” he pressed again.

“I start working tomorrow.”

“I’ll assure you get there on time. Also, your car is here for you.”

My
car. The man’s ridiculous. “I haven’t finished thinking about the car yet.”

“You will take it, Sadie,” he pinned.

“No, Natalio. I will not.”

His hands fell away from my temples. “You’re so goddamned intractable!”

“Hey, I was enjoying that,” I whined.

“Sadie…” he warned, ire striating his tone. Raking a hand through his hair, he made a short shake of his head before flouncing off, leaving me alone on the balcony.

What’s his problem? Hell and damnation, the man was beyond all measure of volatility.

In search of him, I sallied back into the vast, modernly decorated bedroom, but he was absent. Best for me to keep distant until his anger subsides. Longing for a hot bath, I went into his sumptuously stylized black and white bathroom suite and ran myself a hot bath. I chose a lemon-scented body wash from his cabinet and squirted a little into the water, then later discarded his T-shirt—that I don’t remember him dressing me in—and sank in the bath.

It was hardly believable how blurry my memory of last night was. I couldn’t even recall how I had ended up in his bedroom. That’s how deep a sleep that man hand sent me in. The last place I remembered being was on his fluffy white pelt in the main room. A smile visited my face at the memory. No idea I had that I was playing with flames. Natalio had put me out for fourteen hours with just his fingers. I squirmed miserably at the thought of what else he could do to me.

The relationship we had was rather peculiar. It’s as if we’re both wary of the other, but neither wanted to stay away. He’d been explicit about what he wanted from me: To need him. To fall helplessly in love with him—though I wasn’t sure
why
he wanted that. At his ridiculous wants, I scoffed. It was all lust on my side. And even if I wanted to love him, I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to love or trust anymore.

But how genuine was he? Could I at all trust him? A small laugh escaped from me at the thought that I was questioning the issue of
trust,
when I was sitting bare-butted in the man’s bath.

He was handsome. He was sexy. He was caring and thoughtful. Perplexing. Angers easily. Has stalker-like mannerisms. Sometimes scary and a bit creepy. Determined. And wields ultimate control over my body.

An odd combination it was.

Drawing a breath, I went head under water, testing how long it would take me to panic and start gasping for air. I couldn’t remember the last time I panicked. Or
really
feared. Though Mr. Mysterious in Black sometimes gave me the chills.

Death, on the other hand, I liked to challenge. The insidious bastard was just always there, smiling slyly, telling me to come.
Come
. ‘I’m easier than Life’.

Death
was
easy. I could simple open my mouth now and allow water to flow in, and in minutes, I’d be gone. I could place a gun to my head and with one easy move of my finger, I’d be gone. It was that easy. Yet, it was such a laborious and painful task to bring about Life. Why was death so easy when life, which should be the best gift of all, was so difficult? It’s a hoary question, I know, but still it has never ceased being asked.

Abruptly, I found that my body was being hauled from my reveries and from the bath by two strong hands. Unable to speak because I’d held my breath for so long, I gasped.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Natalio shouted, his eyes glacial, though tinged with fright. I stared up at him, panting and wide-eyed at his exaggeration. “I left you for five freakin’ minutes and—” he tilted his head to one side, “were you trying to kill yourself, too?”

As much as I wanted to burst into laughter, I didn’t. He was already raged, and I wanted not to rile him further. “No.”

“Sadie, you were head under the water for God knows how damned long! I panicked. I—” he stopped, ran his long fingers through his glorious dark hair, then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me. “Come.”

“I’m not done with my bath.”

Given my parents’ separate attempts at suicide, one successful and the other failed, I understood why he’d think I was attempting the same. But I didn’t hate my life
that
much.

“Yes, you are. Come. Now.” His eyes were an icy blue and I knew then that
this
side of Natalio was not to be messed with.

Hoping to defuse him, I peered up at him through my lashes. “I need to brush my teeth.”

His eyes never left mine as he opened a glass cabinet, removed a new toothbrush, ripped off its packaging, squirted toothpaste onto it and handed it to me.
Wow.
“Here. Brush now. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m not a child,” I protested.

“I know. But you’re obviously disturbed. Now brush.”

Repressing the urge to howl in laughter, I raised an eyebrow at him. “More disturbed than you are?”

“
Brush
,” he commanded.

On a furtive eye roll, I obeyed. The man thought I was trying to kill myself. The hilarity and ludicrousness of his stupid assumption had me swallowing gulps of laughter. But then, I wondered if I would’ve come up for air had he not drawn me up, or if I would’ve capitulated to death…because it’s
so
much easier.

I thought about my life. There was nothing exciting about it. Nothing interesting or meaningful. I was kept together only by tenuous hopes that my mother would get better soon. That maybe then I could find some semblance of happiness with her. The only thing that did make me smile was designing. There’s nothing else.
Was
nothing else. Until Natalio…He made me smile, and feel, and want. Sometimes.

Turning off the tap at the sink, I glanced up in the mirror found Natalio watching me with intent, one hand pressed up against the wall. I noticed a small dark scar on his arm that I’d never noticed before, and I immediately identified it as a gunshot wound. I knew, because Cali D had two wounds like that on his leg. Natalio had been shot. How? Why? He wouldn’t tell me if I asked him anyway, so there was no pointing in asking. “There, I’m all clean.”

Wordlessly, he took my hand and led me to the bedroom. Before I knew what was happening, Natalio had discarded my towel, swung his arms around my waist and crushed me into him. He gave me a swift harsh kiss and then pushed me backwards onto the bed before landing on top of me, pressing me into the mattress.

“I’m all wet, Natalio,” I squealed.

“Shut. Up.”

My mouth immediately snapped shut at the acidity of his tone.
What the hell?

He grasped my hands and placed them above my head, bounding them by the wrist with one hand. Bringing his free hand to grip my chin, he clamped his lips on mine. When I tried to reciprocate, he pulled his lips away. “
Don’t
,” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t kiss me back. Don’t touch me. Don’t do anything.”

What?

I opened my mouth to speak but his mouth was on mine again, kissing me so hard, my lips hurt. It was perfect. I kissed him back, because I couldn’t understand how he expected me not to.

“You wanted it rough, Sadie. Then I can give it to you rough. If it’ll deter your suicide attempts.”—Ah, that’s what this was about—”Rough is what you want, isn’t it?”