Deliver Us To Temptation

Chapter 14: Taken

"Sir, there's someone here to see you."

Michael looks up, surprise eminent on his face. "Can I get a visual?"

"Already on. Port 4."

He pushes the 4 on the dialpad of his cell phone and flips it open. Stares at the picture. "Bring her— No, I'll— Give me a second."

"Yes, sir." The woman backs out the door.

Michael sits pondering for a few seconds. He can believe she's found him, but a smile starts as he wonders how she found him. She had always been smart.

He blows through the door and towards the elevator. His footsteps are evenly spaced and echoing; he can feel his assistant staring at him. The door opens immediately and he steps in, not looking back. It closes behind him. "Lobby," he says, looking at Paris through the window that is the elevator's back wall. A slight humming sound starts as the elevator zips its way to the bottom floor. He spins around when it stops and the door opens once more.

She faces away from him, leaning ever-so-slightly on the large receptionists' desk. She is wearing a short black skirt with a tailored long-sleeved white shirt. Her hair is in a perfect updo; strands of it have fallen and are framing her face or tucked behind her ear. Black sunglasses are in her left hand, whose fingers are drumming the black marble of the desk. Over her right shoulder is the strap of a small black purse. At the end of her long legs is a pair of black stilettos.

He comes up behind her, somehow silent in the empty lobby. He stands millimeters away from her, and he can feel her stiffen when she notices his presence. He swears he can feel her pressing into him when he kisses her neck just below her right ear.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing myself."

She turns and steps back, putting two feet of safety between them. "Oh, really? Well, let me tell you what I'm doing here. I am here to get my fiancé back or kill you; either is fine with me."

"Quite coldblooded, I see."

"Look at yourself."

He looks slightly to his right, out the doors of the main entrance. "I must admit, I thought you would get here earlier."

"Well, I couldn't. But I'm here now."

"That's nice." A sarcastic smile crosses her features. "Follow me." He turns and goes to the elevator he had come down on. It opens without his pressing any buttons.

"Where?" she asks, suspicious, no doubt, of the person she refuses to remember. He doesn't answer. She follows him into the box reluctantly, and both are silent during the thirty second ride downwards. At the end, the doors open to a hallway made of cement. Sydney brings her hand up and tightens her hold on the purse. Michael stops in front of an unmarked door. He opens it for her and looks straight into her eyes before she walks in.

"Sarah! Oh God, Sarah! I thought he would kill me!"

She takes him in her arms and looks at the man standing outside watching them with his harsh green eyes. How do you say thank you to a man you once loved? She shuts her eyes and a tear slides down her cheek. You can't.

Not when you're still in love with him.

-

He leaves early, leaving Aline in charge until his night assistant comes. He gives her no hurried directions as he usually does, just steps onto the elevator and looks back at her with pure remorse as the doors close on him.

Not wanting to run into any dealers or buyers, Michael goes to the underground garage and drives away in his generic Citröen. He speeds on all the back roads he knows, higher when he knows he's alone. It feels like only minutes have passed by the time he reaches the cottage on the coast.

Darkness had fallen hours ago, but he parks the car and walks calmly through the black world from memory. He stands at the door for almost a minute, just staring at the oak door that has endured so many years.

Finally, he turns the knob—he knows it's unlocked—and pushes it open. He stands, shocked at the light the room is bathed in. Someone has lit a fire. From the couch near the fireplace, that someone stands and looks towards him. A thick blanket is wrapped around them, altering their silhouette. They speak at a level just above a squeak. He can tell that they have been crying.

"Vaughn?"