By C. S. Wachter
The spectacular man could have seduced any lady at the fundraiser, but passing the others without a look, he sauntered up to Nora, a glass of champagne in each long-fingered hand, and, with a devilish grin, planted a soft kiss on her cheek. Nora quivered as heat spread outward from the kiss and set her heart to racing.
Her friend Sammi dragged her to the ladies’ room. “Be careful, Nora. That guy’s got a massive Narcissus complex. Nobody really knows anything about him other than he’s fiendishly handsome, reputedly wealthy, and undoubtedly famous in certain circles.”
More like infamous. The thought drifted up within Nora’s spirit. She ignored the subtle warning. Despite Sammi’s words, the stranger’s magnetism drew her like a siren’s song. Returning to his side, Nora pulled in a deep breath, tilted her chin, and met eyes that invited her into their endless depths. Pale near the pupils, they deepened to gray then pure black around the edges of the irises. Unusual. Mesmerizing. Alluring.
Dangerous.
“You are captivating, sweet Nora. Have sympathy on me”—the words, spoken no louder than a hushed whisper, drove rational thought to the far side of the universe—“and be my date tomorrow evening?”
The rest of the night sped by in a blur of small talk as Nora hung onto the arm of the stranger. Each time he was introduced, she listened for his name. But each time, he pulled her into his side, his proximity sending adrenaline rushing through her, triggering her pulse to pound wildly in her ears. I’ll never learn his name at this rate. Why didn’t I ask Sammi?
The invitation to accompany him to the grand opening of the new, exclusive gallery on Madison Street sent Nora into panic mode when she woke the next morning.
She grimaced at the discarded clothes on her bed. Nothing’s right. I need to wear something impressive. Mr.—what the heck is his name—is perfect, not like the guys I usually date.
Five hours and a dozen stores later, Nora laid out a wildly expensive little black dress on top of the crumpled pile she’d left earlier. She chewed her lip. Sleeveless and low cut, it was more revealing than anything she’d worn before. It was perfect, but not for Nora. What had possessed her to buy it? She never did irrational things… until now. For a stranger whose name she didn’t know.
An errant breeze chilled Nora’s bare shoulders, sending a shiver of foreboding skittering up her spine. She huffed, raising her eyes to the heating vent. “Silly nonsense.”
The dress is ideal for the art exhibit. So what if it cost more than a month’s salary plus the shoes. It’ll be worth it to see those amazing eyes light up.
She slipped on her purchase, then turned to look at herself in the mirror. A stranger stared back. What am I doing? This isn’t like me. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. But what if Mr. Perfect is Mr. Right? I’ll make certain I hear his name tonight. I won’t mess up again.
Mr. Perfect didn’t speak when Nora answered the door. He leaned in, kissed her on the cheek, and, taking her hand, led her to his silver Maserati Quattroporte sedan where he held the door and helped her in.
He wasn’t a timid driver, and Nora crushed the hem of her dress multiple times in white-knuckled fists as the performance vehicle screamed its way around corners and through intersections with lights turning red.
“You’re not scared, are you?” His rich voice wrapped around her, blanketing her in a hazy detachment. “No. You’re not afraid. You trust me, don’t you?”
Nora nodded as his eyes caught hers, holding them for a few seconds before he returned his attention to the road. She had no idea why this cultured and well-educated man would be interested in her, but she wasn’t going to ruin it.
His driving settled to a more sedate speed as he spoke of politics, art, and philosophy. The hair on Nora’s neck rose when he described the beautiful art of St. Petersburg with a wistful expression, then told of the death of Czar Nicholas II and his family with unsettling detail. As if he’d been there, the voice within her whispered.
Confidence flowed from him like water from Pilate’s fingers as he screeched to a halt in front of the gallery and tossed his car keys to a wide-eyed valet.
He helped Nora out of the car, then wrapped her arm around the bend of his elbow, cupping his fingers over her hand. “Are you more relaxed now, sweet Nora?” His breath on her ear sent a buzz of excitement through her.
Nora covered her feelings of awe with a mask of indifference as they strolled past paintings set on pristine white walls highlighted by strategically placed high hats reflecting off a polished concrete floor. Everything about the gallery spoke of culture and wealth, and the last thing she wanted to do was embarrass her date by gawking like some backwoods dolt.
I could get used to this, ran through Nora’s mind as she watched Mr. Perfect discuss the difference between Impressionistic and Post-Impressionistic art with a silver haired lady in a Prada gown.
“Thank you, young man, for taking the time to share your unique perspective with a woman who is old enough to be your grandmother. I am Countess Anastasia Sophia deVain. And you are?”
Nora held her breath.
“Pleased to meet you.” Gray eyes sparkled as his gaze shifted to Nora, a sly grin exposing perfect, white teeth. “Why don’t you do the introductions, sweet Nora?”
Nora’s mouth opened and hung there, useless. Devoid of inspiration.
He chuckled. “Can’t you guess my name?”
The Countess frowned sympathetically. “A man of such wealth and taste deserves better from his date.”
Nora couldn’t disagree with her.
Mr. Perfect leaned in and kissed the Countess’ weathered cheek. “You may call me Lucifer.”
Can you guess which song from the 1960's inspired this story? Share in the comments!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
How wonderfully creepy! I’m guessing Sympathy for the Devil by the Rolling Stones. You captured the evil, yet distinguished, gentleman perfectly!
Thank you Susan! Well done! You guessed the correct song.
Well done. Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste?
Thanks! I almost had him say the line.
It was very creepy!
Thank you!
Nice atmospheric writing.
Thank you!
I LOVE this! The theme is so subtle yet so prevalent. Amazing job!
Thank you!
I felt anxious and curious until the very end. Great writing!
Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.
Wow this is SO well done *screams*
Thank you!
Oooh, I did not see that coming! The first thing I thought of was, “Is there a song that inspired the movie The Devil Wears Prada?” Which I haven’t seen… but that was the title that jumped to mind. LOL Guess not. Ah, the good old Rolling Stones.
Loved this story. Super creepy and I was on the edge of my seat the whole time wondering what was going to happen next!
Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it!
Great writing. Need to know what happens next. Loved The Rolling Stones inspiration.
Thank you!
So well done, Chris! I was caught up in the story and loved it!! -Sean
So glad you enjoyed it. Thank you!