(Whoo! I updated! Not even I thought I would. So here's chapter two. I hope you like it. I had a ton of fun writing it!
Please, read and review! I really do appreciate everyone who left a comment last chapter. This is pretty much for you guys! Tell me what you think, and I'll try to update again soon!
This chapter is actually very circular. By that I mean it's tied to the last one. See if you can see what I mean. There are a couple of instances I threw in there.
Again, this was an ambitious chapter for me by way of writing style and diction, so if you could leave comments I'd greatly appreciate it! Thanks in advance!)
Chapter 2:
Don't turn on the lights.
He grinned at the note on the door. She was playing some sort of game with him, which was cute. He felt a familiar impulse run through his body. It was the power she held over him. Even seeing her hand writing, her name scribbled on the bottom of the paper, was enough to excite him in numerous ways. He reached up and touched the words, as if he could somehow feel the essence of the soft hands that had put them there.
Slowly, he pushed the door open, peering into the dimly lit room carefully before entering. She wasn't waiting for him on the sofa, as he had been expecting. Slightly disappointed, but fiercely compelled, he closed the door with the same careful slowness as when he had entered. It barely made a sound as it clicked into place. He turned the lock and then straightened up, his eyes absorbing all the work she had done.
On the desk sitting against the wall just beyond the door there was a note in an envelope framed by flowers and a candle. He raised his hand to look at it, then hesitated. It was painfully obvious that this was an important letter, something that would affect him deeply. He would hold off on reading it until he had taken a better look around. Smiling to himself, he turned to the living area.
The candles were a nice touch. They were beautiful and the light was perfect. It was as if the Pent House had been completely redesigned. As the warm orange glow seeped across the furniture and spilled over the floor and ceiling the room seemed to expand, as if the walls wanted to give the romantic dinner setting on the table as much privacy as possible. She had rearranged the décor for just an affect, but he doubted she realized how powerful the result had turned out.
He drew a deep breath. The scent of melting candle wax and wisps of smoke paled in comparison to the fragrance billowing from the kitchen. It was incredible, and he almost couldn't believe his Sam had managed it. He would have to ask her about that later, when this little game was over. Mind cloudy with almost too much sensory pleasure, he crossed to the window and relit one of the candles. The draft seeping in around the sides had blown it out.
That done, he moved over to the table and picked up the note that was sitting on top of one of the plates. Above him the purr of a hair drier filtered through the ceiling. Slightly distracted, he unfolded the note carefully, holding it as if it would crumble if he wasn't careful, his fingers on the top and bottom corners.
Jason. If you're home on time than you have an hour before dinner is ready. Come find me.
I'm waiting for you.
He couldn't help but grin at the note. She certainly had planned things out. That was one of the innumerable things about her that intoxicated him. She was smart. Not just book smart, or street smart, but clever. He felt like she could keep up with him, which was a rare trait to find in anyone these days. He wasn't blowing his own horn, or at least he didn't mean to; he just understood that he was good at his job, and that meant he was a shrewd business man. If he had to come up with some sort of plan to get what he needed he could, no problem. Sam was the same way.
He liked that about her.
Refolding the note and placing it back on the plate, he decided now was as good a time as any to read the note he had skipped. He went to the desk, picking up one of the flowers and turning it over delicately in his hand. The petals were soft and luscious, the flower small and strong. It was as if she had picked the flower most akin to her own being. It made him yearn for her to an almost painful degree. He didn't want to wait, already knowing where she was waiting for him and dying to meet her there.
He couldn't jump the gun. He knew she had put more than her fair share of thought and effort into this evening game, and it was only fair for him to do the same. It would take him only a few minutes to read the card, and then he would be up the stairs and in the master bedroom. His heart beat against his rib cage as if it were trying to burst through, violently filling his ears with the pulse of his passion for her.
Hands trembling in a mixture of excitement and erotic ecstasy, he picked up the envelope and turned it over. A kiss stared up at him, bright red against the dull paper. He raised it to his lips, inhaling the scent of her lips. It was almost too much. It took more will power than he realized to open the envelope and remove the letter without ripping it to shreds.
He opened the age paper and let his eyes travel down the lyrical, sincere words of love and devotion Sam had written for the one man she truly loved. It was almost a full page of small, impressively neat writing. She had taken her time with this, and had done her best to make it perfect. He could feel her in every word, and it made his stomach tighten with envy.
All these words. The loving care she had taken in setting up the whole night, the use of those spectacular wits and spunk that had him completely addicted to her: it was all for him. Jason Morgan. The man she was more than willing, as the letter described, to spend the rest of her life with. To bear children for. In whose arms she would gladly die. It made him jealous in a way he didn't understand, his mind blackening with torturous thoughts. He didn't love her, that he knew, but he hated Jason.
She was his Sweetness, and yet he could have no fun with her because Jason Morgan was always on the look out. Except, delightfully, today.
He pulled a pen from his pocket and quickly added his own paragraph to the end of the letter, his script looking crude and vicious compared to hers. It was the perfect counterpoint. He returned the letter to the envelope and resealed it the best he could. Jason wouldn't notice at first that it had been opened, but after seeing those final words he would recheck. But let him, by then it wouldn't matter.
Manny Ruiz was not the type of man who left incriminating clues behind haphazardly. He knew what he wanted Jason to find, what he wanted him to think. This game of Sam's, while a surprise, was perfect for him. It made his own fun a thousand times more entertaining and, ultimately, malicious. Neither Jason nor Sam could possibly realize how much pain was waiting for them in the coming days. Only Manny, the ever devious business man that he was, could truly appreciate the intricacies of his plan as it fell together seamlessly before him.
It was quiet upstairs now, which meant his prey was now settling herself in for the wait for her fiancé. He chuckled to himself and took to the stairs, climbing them silently, each step mounted with calculated precision as he ascended towards his ultimate goal. His imagine ran away with him for a moment as he thought about her reaction. Gun in hand, he paused at the top of the steps and drew a deep, wonderful breath. He stared at the door to the bedroom, left slightly ajar, and tried his hardest to calm himself.
His excitement peaked and raged dangerously, his passion and intent mixing into one throbbing sensation that threatened to overwhelm his senses. He moved carefully to the door and eased it open with one hand, the other aiming the gun.
She was devastatingly striking as she turned in surprise to see him. The dress, the hair, the make up, the eyes: everything down to the excited aura around her. Manny felt like he was going to explode, and his rationale was lost. He leapt at her, like a beast on an unwitting meal, and crashed on top of her to the bed. His mouth covered hers, his tongue choking her screams. She struggled beneath him, kicking and batting her arms against him with all her strength, but he had the advantage of size and surprise. He overpowered her completely, and for a moment almost lost himself to his desire.
He covered her mouth with his tattooed hand and pulled back, grinning down at her, the lust and sadistic intentions in his eyes glistening like the candles downstairs. Sam was now perfectly still beneath him, her chest heaving as fight gave way to flight. Terror set in, and desperation began to drive her thoughts. He could see how badly she wanted to get to the drawer by the bedside, her eyes wandering and giving her away. There was a gun there, he was sure. He had her securely pinned under his weight, so he didn't worry.
"It's been a while, hasn't it Sweetness?" He cooed, reaching into the pocket of his thick leather jacket and pulling out a capped medical syringe. The sight of it caused Sam to renew and redouble her escape efforts. Manny laughed at the fear and disorientation that crossed her fine features. He could almost hear her thoughts as he pulled the cap from the needle and checked the amount of liquid inside the vial.
He stuck the needle into her neck, almost cringing as she reacted. Her body pulled in one last dire attempt to wrench her lithe frame free, to no avail. Tears streamed down her face, her eyes shut tight against the injection. She moaned into his hand, begging him in muffled tones to stop, to let her go. He grinned at her, taking her strained face into his hands and forcing her to look at him, wanting his utter glee to be the last thing she saw before the anesthesia took affect.
Everything was perfect.