He did not know when it changed or how...he simply did not pay it enough attention until the circumstances demanded it. Looking back, Chen was right-when he grabbed Her hand at the marina he surprised himself but held on. Even though his brain was already screaming to let go of her burning fingers, he held on to finish the job. And, subsequently, with every day's passing his attraction grew. During the day he "handled" her as his job demanded and at night...at night he dreamt of her wild hair caressing his shoulder, her lips trembling over his and the gentle undulating movements of her body...So seeing her here tonight already hurt.
She hurt, too. Tonight, she was tired and sick, sick of his bullshit and overbearing presence that stifled her in a cocoon of righteousness and held her like a fly on a web. Tonight, she wanted to escape from his penetrating stares and close the door in his face. So she did just that. And it's not like she wanted James in particular. She wanted comfort, rest and a male body around her, her insulation from current events. She found some of that but also anger at self for feeling this way, for going to the wrong person because she was too proud to go to the right.
She felt angry, confused, her grip on sanity slowly slipping away. How was it, she wondered, that all it took was one person to upset the delicate balance that was her life? Why, why was it so easy for him to simply come and f..ck it all up? Drag to light all the things that were dark? Him, with his sharply cut jaw and no less sharply cut suit. Him, with the pale blue eyes she was constantly stumbling into? She used to think that his type was bland, weak, and, oh, so expendable. Now, she was shocked, torn between the pull of his maleness and what his job was doing to her. That's why earlier at the restaurant she desperately fought to disengage, to throw his intrusion in his face. She pulled back, she needed more time to assess what was happening. He would not let her go. She still resisted being fairly sure it would infuriate him. He acted like she expected. He moved faster than time allowed and she felt fear breathe down her neck. She was playing with fire in a cold man. At the end, blood boiling, she let the need for payback and her own impatience overtake her. She turned on the phone connecting light to the dark. As Nava's hands went predictably over her body she ended up on the kitchen table...
Revenge expectedly brought his friend Guilt. But it was too late to stop this, to leave, for the idiocy would be palpable on all sides. So she tried to stifle her voice, to prevent it from traveling. More disturbingly, she couldn't let go of Stahl's face, it kept intruding under her closed eyelids. She was beginning to realize that she wanted to figure out this strange wicked man. She imagined his eyes register surprise then quickly go steel. He killed the sound and tossed the burner on the back seat. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to think of another matter...
Three hours later, she emerged, in all her just-fucked glory, her hair a halo in the street lights. She wasn't surprised to find him still there. He was leaning against his car, waiting for the click of her heels to get closer. Walking up, she felt decisive but, somehow dirty, still enveloped in another's scent. Stahl met her with a cold and motionless stare, his face betraying nothing. She did not know that anger was already seeping through his bones, boiling his flesh. He did not know she cried later that night as she descended to hell. She did not know he was already there...