CEO's Beloved is a Dark Witch

The sound of rain covered everything else. Dark clouds had shielded Paris from the sunlight, and a light breeze made any attempt at using an umbrella unfruitful. The drops fell on the ground, gathering in black puddles, dirty from the many shoes that had strolled there during the summer drought.

The streets were empty: most of the tourists and locals were already drying in a cafe or at home. Some were waiting, patiently, for the rain to be over before returning to their hasty running.

Paris was a busy city, with no breaks. Yet, that day, it was calm. If only the noise of water didn't cover the silence...

The young woman was walking in the rain, paying no attention to the cold drops running down her back. Her straight black hair was dripping, and her piercing amber eyes were half-closed.

She had just received the message and was ready to return home. There wasn't much more she could do. The storm would have interrupted electricity in several quarters, and many trees were going to fall due to the strong wind.

For the moment, it was calm. Only she knew that the peace wouldn't last long.

Her phone was in the backpack, but she didn't take it out not to ruin it with the water. She had to get out of the pedestrian zone to catch a taxi, and the agency didn't seem willing to just let the storm unfold.

«It's too late,» she sighed. Gamayun had passed already.

She had listened to the message and knew the winds would be the lesser of their problems. Yet, when she had asked the agency to call their agents back, she had heard a refusal.

«Stay there and defend the city!» she had been ordered.

«Defend how?» she muttered, annoyed. It was not like she had any chance at changing the gods' will.

A melody surfaced among all the pitter-patter of the raindrops. What could be louder than the silence of a coming storm? What could be heard over the wind like that?

She followed the sound, deciphering the tune of a violin. In that unnatural calm that had pushed even the deaf humans to hide their presence, to stay quiet and wait for it to be over, someone was as daring as to challenge the rain with their music.

It was a slow, gentle song. As if asking the sky to withhold its fury, to forgive their sins and let them go...

The young woman crossed the road and followed the notes, feeling the violin closer and closer at every step. There was something terribly irresistible in the way every pause had a deeper meaning, every note had an emotion. They linked together and formed the flow of the music, leading her heartbeat to adapt to the pace.

She walked under an arch and into a private garden. She would have stopped in any other circumstances. But, that day, she didn't fear consequences. And she had been ordered to stay in Paris either way.

She stopped in the middle of the garden, inhaling the scents of the flowers beaten by the raindrops. They were withering because of the strength of the precipitation. The water was falling with more persistence each second, transforming the light shower into a waterfall.

It was as if the Gods were pouring buckets on the city, trying to drown it with fury.

Yet, the violin didn't stop. It didn't decrease in volume, still so clear over any other sound. The melody stayed gentle till the end until the artist finished the last, sweet note.

Only then did the woman dare look up. She saw a pair of green eyes framed by blonde locks, lengthy enough to curl into delicious ringlets but not as long as to to bother their owner's face. It was a man with broad shoulders and gentle fingers. He was standing at a window on the first flow, facing the garden but looking up at the sky.

He looked back at her, and their gazes didn't move for a long while. Meanwhile, the first thunder rolled through the streets, making the Seine shiver in fear.

«It's cold,» said a low-pitched, hypnotic voice. «You should dry yourself.»

She nodded, following the same instinct that had driven her to him. She crossed the small gate that revealed a staircase and walked up until a door opened in front of her.

From so close, he was even more attractive.

She could see every detail, from his straight nose to the masculine line of his jaw. His eyelashes were long, casting a shadow on his cheeks when he blinked. And those blonde curls... Oh, she wished to sink her hands in them, to roll one around her finger...

She swallowed, returning vigil in an instant. It was not like her to lose control like that. But... Was it so wrong?

«It's pouring outside. You shouldn't keep your wet clothes too long,» said that same seductive voice. So, it was actually his.

«Then help me,» she replied.

Her voice wasn't any worse, melodious and calm, as if the incoming storm didn't frighten her one bit.

And it didn't. She had more pressing concerns than even worrying about some rain and some wind.

«Help me get rid of these wet clothes,» she said, raising the tip of her lips in a crooked, challenging smile.

The man chuckled, shaking his head. Sure, it couldn't be the first time a woman threw herself at him like that. He knew about his charms and didn't seem shy about it.

«First, get in,» he mused. «You might want to have some tea before getting to business.»

She didn't miss the irony in his tone, but she didn't care. She paraded in front of him, well-aware of how her clothes were sticking to her skin. There was nothing she could hide, either way. She was the one asking to be stripped off of those.

«You shouldn't invite people into your home this easily. You never know what gets in,» she said before dropping the backpack on the floor.

*This is my entry for WSA! Please vote, review and comment!*