5 Into the devil's lair

The sound of door clicking shut seemed to echo as I awkwardly stood at the entrance of my boss' home, nervously glancing around as he walked in, switching the lights on as he went.

If Caleb Cross was a devil, this place would certainly qualify for his lair. The apartment was situated on 8th floor of a steel and glass high-rise in the heart of uptown Seattle where everything in sight screamed money.

It had made me wonder how Caleb could afford to live in such a place on the salary of an up-and-coming software firm.

My eyes roamed around, taking the living room I stood in, noting how tastefully it was decorated. Every furniture in sight was black and leather, with deep red velvet curtains and cushions.

The place looked classic - granted, a very put together - bachelor's pad with a huge flat screen dominating the space and every piece of furniture in the room facing it.

The whole thing could've been unpleasantly in-your-face if iron-gray walls and plush gray rugs didn't neutralise it all.

"Care for a tour?" He asked, giving me his patent stare and placing my overnight bag on a nearby couch.

Not trusting my voice at the moment, I nodded letting him take my hand in his and walk me through his house, pointing out various rooms as we went.

The apartment had three bedrooms, one of which seemed curiously empty, a study containing a desk in one corner, a library in other and a bank of huge bay windows opposite the desk. The open styled kitchen was lined with high barstools and opened up into the living room.

"Wine?" he asked, pulling me out of my observation and I nodded, suddenly needing something to wet my parched throat.

He gestured for me to take a seat on the barstool and busied himself with a wine bottle. I took another sweeping look around his house and couldn't help but compare it to my own. This thought led me to remember the last hour.

***

One hour ago.

Even though I had accepted my boss' indecent proposal to spend the whole weekend with him on a wild whim, I had absolutely no idea what to do - or expect - next.

After all, I barely knew the man for a few weeks. And that too, strictly around the work space. What if he was a sadistic, psycho killer? He certainly looked the type.

My mind mocked me that it was a little late to consider all these practical possibilities, but I hushed it, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.

Assuming that leaving together was obviously not a good idea, I had left from the work shortly after our raunchy encounter, feeling grateful as I walked out of the nearly empty building that everyone else still seemed to be at the party.

As I had stood uncertainly peering up and down the street, I realised I had absolutely no idea what I was waiting for.

Did I want him to show up and whisk me away for a weekend of living in the sin?

Or was I hoping for my regular bus to show up so that I can go straight home and forget my chocolate tastings?

I needed some advice, and fast. Quickly removing my phone, I typed a short text to Shayari, "Spend a whole weekend with Torpedo. Yea or nay?"

I stared at the screen for a few minutes, waiting for her response, but it never came. Rolling my eyes, I cursed my so-called friend's flaky habit of never responding to the messages on time and put my phone inside my bag with a huff.

Well, that was unproductive.

Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped into my mind and I decided that I will get onto whatever came first; the bus or the Chariot of the Devil. I restlessly bounced on my place, waiting for the universe to decide the course of my weekend for me.

That will be fate making a choice for me. And if I regret the decision later, well, fate will get to have the blame, right?

Feeling satisfied at my childish resolve, I waited until I could see my regular bus making its way up the street.

Feeling a knot loosen in my chest, I breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that decided it, isn't it?

Just as it was about reach the stop I stood at though, the Devil himself - sans the chariot - rounded the nearest corner of an alleyway, stopping in front of me with a raised brow.

The bus stopped behind him a few freaking seconds too late.

"Guess you will just have to get on to him now", whispered my subconscious slyly.

"Well? Get on," Caleb said, making my eyes widen.

Did I say that out loud?

I looked around me, and uttered, "here?"

His lips twitched as he replied, "Well, it is a rule to get on a bus at one of the stops, I think?"

The bus, you silly woman.

My cheeks heated up and I got onto the bus, with Caleb following me in. My mind was frazzled, still stumped over my foiled plan. Foiled? I thought. Wasn't this what I wanted? And if it wasn't, why in the hell was I doing it?

Lost in thoughts, I got up to get off on my usual stop without thinking. It was when I felt a presence behind me did I snapped out of it and turned my head just as Caleb bent down to whisper in my ear, "your place, then?"

My breathe hitched with his proximity even as my eyes widened at the prospect of having him into my house. For some reason, it felt too intrusive to have him there. Too unnerving.

"No!" I exclaimed, then cleared my throat. "I-its such a small space that—"

"—that we'll be almost on top of each other?" he interrupted me, looking amused and I felt my eyes widen even more.

"Yes, I mean no! Not on top, but well not in th—" my fumbling stopped as his laughter cut through my words again. And then I felt flustered for another reason altogether.

In all of the little time I had known him, this had to be the first time I was witnessing him laughing. And what a sight it was to behold.

It wasn't just that he looked even hotter when he laughed. There was ofcourse that, but watching him laugh made me want to smile. Even if the joke was at my expense. Odd, because I usually hated being the butt of a joke.

Feeling slightly weirded out at my own thoughts, I blinked, and schooled my expression to a severe one.

"Well, what I meant was," I spoke in a carefully neutral tone as his laughter quieted.

"Its a small space. And, I live with a roommate. So, it will not be a good idea to have you there."

"Ah, I see. So we are stopping by your apartment to..." and this grin was the reason why I was stubbornly refusing to cower even when my subconscious was coming up with ways to get out of this.

Straightening my shoulders, I replied, "to get me a change of clothes, Mr. Cross."

The stop arrived and I got off the bus with Caleb following behind me, murmuring, "as if you'd need those."

"What?"

"Nothing, Ms. Brooke," he sighed, making a sweeping motion with his arm in a universal 'after you' gesture and I walked ahead of him towards my building.

The house I shared with Shayari was an old warehouse turned apartment complex. I walked up to the faded, red brick, squat building and climbed 3 flights of stairs to the topmost floor.

Unlocking my door, I walked in and Caleb trailed in behind me, eying my apartment with interest.

I tried looking my tiny apartment through his eyes as he took in a yellow walls with gray trims and worn out, but cosy furniture.

It was a one bedroom apartment that I shared with Shayari. Being a school teacher, her income and share in rent was much lesser than mine so when we had moved in she had insisted that I take the bedroom while she made her bed on the huge mahogany couch.

The wall opposite to the door consisted of simple glass doors leading out to a parapet balcony. The north wall was full of framed pictures of our families and us where as the south of apartment had two doors.

We didn't have much in the name of the furniture, just a couch and mismatched arm chairs all facing a flatscreen.

"Is that Ellen Cole?" His question pulled me out of my thoughts as I turned to see him gazing at one of my family pictures with confusion.

It was a family photo, taken a few years back. At my nod, he stared at me until I explained, "She's my first cousin."

"Huh. I never could've guessed," he muttered, still frowning at the picture, oblivious to my flinch.

It was crazy that I still harboured this insecurity about Ellen being so much better than me at everything that people had hard time believing we were even related.

Tamping the stupid emotion down, I ignored his comment, reminding myself that a guy like Caleb was standing in my apartment, not hers.

"Um, would you like to have something?" I asked belatedly but Caleb just shook his head and went back to observing the pictures on the wall.

Leaving him to his inspection, I walked into my bedroom and quickly packed a small bag with bare essentials. I knew Shayari wouldn't be home until much later, seeing how she loved walking back home from school  but I still checked my phone just in case my friend had some insight for me on whether I was being stupid or not.

Not finding her response, I sent her another text message with a single emoji, letting her know exactly how I felt about this ridiculous habit of hers, before walking out of the room to find Caleb standing in front of my framed degrees on the wall.

Shit.

"You're a software engineer?" He asked as soon as he knew I was out. Busying myself in straightening the pillows on the couch, I kept my answer short.

"Yeah."

"Then why do you work in a software company as an assistant instead of a developer?" He asked with confusion in his voice.

Maybe inviting him up really was a bad idea, I thought as I finally looked at him. I had never before realised just how much an apartment could reveal about you.

Vaguely curious about his apartment at that thought I answered, "because that is exactly what I want to be. Now, shall we leave?"