One second, that's all it takes for the earth to slip from under your feet, for your destiny to change forever. One unforgiving second that will decide the course of your life. A second of agony, a second of ecstasy. Every man has his second. He's born with it, polishes it over the years, lives it, then forgets it.
My second has passed, it's spent, but I cannot forget it. It was a merciless second that left deep scars and bleeding wounds that will never heal. A second that ruined lives and ended destinies, that was my second. The only one. At least I thought it was until ten minutes ago.
I lock my eyes with his and crack a weak smile when he arches an eyebrow in question. I glance down his body and linger a few moments on his fingers rhythmically tapping the mahogany desk, a gesture that tells me that his patience is gradually turning to ash. I swallow dryly when my attention is caught by the uroborus ring adorning his little finger.
— I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, I reply in a calm tone, looking up into his face.
Although he's a no-good and maybe an asshole, I have to admit he's a damn good-looking asshole. From the intense navy blue eyes to the full, reddish lips curving into a devilish smile, everything, but absolutely everything exudes perfection.
He gives a long nod, looking at me through his eyelashes for a few moments. He backs up and guides his footsteps toward me, and I forget to breathe when he reaches my face. I swallow dryly and tilt my head back a little so I can look at him, which I hate. I don't want him to believe for a second that his presence intimidates me.
He raises his right hand and waves the piece of paper in front of my eyes, at which point my nostrils are flooded with a smell that is downright divine. I moisten my lips, trying not to laugh at the universe's terrific sense of humor.
His perfume smells of coffee and whisky, two of my favorite drinks.
— Are you sure?" he murmurs, locking his gaze on mine.
I hold his gaze for seconds, without making any further gesture, but it's terribly hard not to react when he takes another step, violating every boundary of personal space.
His hot breath scorches my face, and my first instinct is to take a step back, to create some distance between our bodies that are almost touching, but I don't. I remain motionless under his burning gaze for a good few seconds, lifting my chin defiantly to meet his gaze again.
The coldness that stains his irises turns me upside down, giving me a state of pure anxiety. He breaks eye contact to fix his gaze on the piece of paper and I have to bite my lips to kill the smile that threatens to bloom on my face at the sight of the spot of color in the corner of it.
— I'm absolutely sure you've got the wrong person, I mutter in a low tone, grabbing the piece of paper from his hands without warning.
A few creases stain my forehead as my gaze falls on the handwriting, surprised to discover impeccable penmanship. The sizable letters are rounded and accented in places, slightly slanted to the right, giving me a hint that the handwriting belongs to a woman. The lipstick-stained lipstick staining the paper confirms this.
"The end is near. At twelve at night I will open a bottle of champagne in honor of your memory."
— Well, it looks like you have an attention-seeking admirer on your trail, not a serial killer, I chuckle genuinely amused.
— I don't believe you, her voice sounds like a whisper, capturing my attention.
I part my lips and lift my head abruptly, cringing as I realize how close he is to me now.
His hot breath undresses my face, gently moving the rebellious locks that kiss my face. I forget to breathe as his gaze searches my face carefully, resting for a few moments on my lips, which I almost mechanically moisten, feeling myself running out of air.
— It's almost midnight, and you're still alive, I say in a half voice, looking away for a moment.
— Almost... Querida, I really would like to believe that your arrival here and the receipt of this note are a mere coincidence, but I can't, his slightly hoarse voice caresses my eardrums, making me look at him for the thousandth time this evening.
I wince in surprise when his fingers caress my cheek fleetingly, his touch suddenly bringing me down to earth. I blink often and half-open my lips unconsciously, not knowing how to react to his gesture in the moment.
I slur my words and take a step back, gently clutching the piece of paper still in my hand. I pick it up with some reluctance and press my lips to one corner, at which point the lipstick on my lips imprints on it.
— They're different shades of lipstick, querido, I murmur as I hand her the piece of paper, which she grabs. I have absolutely no idea who the author of this note is, but it's clear to me that she doesn't want your harm, but your attention, I complete after a few seconds, working up the courage to take one last glance in her direction.
Intense black locks kiss his forehead fleetingly as he fixes his gaze on the two fingerprints staining the sheet, comparing them most likely. I watch him for a few more seconds and almost smile at the thought that the only way a woman could get his attention is with a threatening note.
I suck in a breath and turn on my heel, fixing my gaze on the door, but I don't make it more than two steps as a slight pressure makes its presence felt on my right arm, causing me to stop in my tracks.
I glance down at his hand holding my arm captive, swallowing dryly as the heat emanating from his body crashes against my back. I glance over my shoulder and flush , feeling the velvety touch of ebony locks against my cheek.
— Who are you?
— A mere stranger, I murmur, glancing down at his hand that seems to burn my skin.
— Tell me your name, mariposita! his voice sounds like a plea, making my heart beat twice as fast.
I moisten my lips and suck in a breath as I reluctantly lift my left hand and place it over his in order to free my arm, but I rest my fingers on the ring that adorns his little finger for a few seconds.
— My name is irrelevant... Those like you rule Hell, but those like me live in it, I say the words slowly, trying hard to control my breathing.
I feel his grip loosen and I pull my hand away when the warmth of his fingers fades. I feel his gaze on me as I pull away, briefly hiding behind the massive door.
Thousands of thoughts echo in my mind as I make my way through the dimly lit hallway, and an eerie feeling comes over me as I realize that the man who stole my very last breath a few dozen seconds ago is no stranger to me, not entirely.
A few dozen minutes ago
— You're crazy! the voice of the man to my right catches my attention, at the same time as he flashes me a smile of amusement.
I arch a questioning eyebrow, shifting my gaze to his face. The fine lines of age have taken their toll on his face, but in the best possible way. The olive complexion that is kissed in patches by the curls of a dark brown and the chocolate gaze gives him a special warmth, transforming his face into a friendly one.
— I take it you missed me? I frown, glaring at him.
He shrugs indifferently, as if my presence is no big deal, causing me to roll my eyes, knowing all too well he's lying. The huge grin that blooms on his face gives me a clue, and when he literally jumps up from the high chair and starts moving his shoulders rhythmically to the song that's just starting, I understand why.
— Hell, hell nah! Yeah, hell, hell no! he hums the lyrics to Million Dollar Baby, making me giggle.
I'm ready to refuse when he beckons me to join him, but when he realizes my intention, he decides to take matters into his own hands. I look at him downright indignant as his hands grasp my waist, lifting me from the high chair only to bring me back to my feet a few seconds later.
I give him a look that's meant to be full of venom, and then I start laughing out loud, beginning to move my body to the beat of the song.
— I ain't never rep a set, baby! I ain't do no wrong! - I could clean up good for you! Oh, I know right from wrong! he completes the verse, pretending to dedicate the song to me, which amuses me no end.
My right hand is captured by his, forcing me to do a beautiful pirouette, a gesture that draws less than decent retorts from those who have found themselves having to make room for us to move around freely.
I glance briefly at Darius, then pursing my lips into a straight line, feeling somewhat embarrassed that I've drawn attention to us. The reaction of the man in front of me astonishes and horrifies me in equal measure, but his middle finger being raised without an ounce of shame seems to muffle the voices of the disgruntled.
A few giggles stain my lips as the man in front of me begins to gesticulate dizzily with his hands, moving around me. I hide my face in my palms when I realize that a small circle has formed around us and a few phones are watching our every move.
Darius makes two or three more moves and gets on his knees in front of me, at which point I tense up, swallowing dryly as I realize that those around us are under the impression that the man in front of me is sincerely dedicating the song to me.
I fall for a few seconds in thought, not knowing how to react, but his sincere smile reminds me of a certain girl who lived every moment of her life as if it were her last.
We humans are extremely interesting beings.
We realize that we have held the treasure in our hands only after we have lost it. We do not know how to enjoy what we have, what we see, what we touch. We always want more, better, more beautiful. We chase the stars and miss the moon.
I may not be the wisest person on the planet, but over time I've come to realize that every second has its purpose, and now I'll be damned if I'm going to waste the few seconds I have left.
I fix my gaze on Darius for a few moments, feigning total disinterest. A truly gorgeous smile blooms on his face when he realizes I've decided to play his game.
— Damn! I didn't think babysitting would be so much fun! he exclaims at the end of the dance, struggling to catch his breath for a few seconds.
— Oh my God! If I had kids, I'd make sure you were at least ten kilometers away! I giggle amusedly, looking at him with undertones.
He rolls his eyes, pretending to be offended by my retort, but the smile immediately returns to his face as roars of applause surround us. A few voices break out from the crowd, urging us to kiss, at which point Darius arches his eyebrows questioningly, pursing his lips as he leans forward.
— Hell, hell nah!" I repeat the last words of the song, looking at him as if he has two heads instead of one.
Darius feigns disappointment, looking with interest at the girls around him, and I can't help but wince when a girl breaks away from the crowd and presses her lips to his in a kiss that seems downright sinful and unrestrained.
I turn on my heel and reach for the cocktail glass waiting for me on the bar, taking a generous sip from it, then turning to face the crowd in time to catch the moment when Darius kisses another girl with pathos. I giggle and shake my head slightly in denial, scanning the pub fleetingly with my eyes.
I analyze every part of the pub with a downright curious fascination, marveling at the unique way it looks.
The dark green tiles covering the ceiling, the brown marble-looking walls and the pieces of furniture made of wood or leather give the place a rustic feel, definitely making it stand out.
A few dozen seconds later, my attention is caught by a flight of stairs on the opposite side of the room. I swallow dryly as soon as I glance up them, for I catch a glimpse of a man standing upstairs in front of the banister that borders the marble floor.
Although we are a considerable distance away and his face is shrouded in darkness, I can easily tell that his gaze is on me.
An electric shiver runs down my spine as his face lights up for a split second, revealing a generous smile. Although it's hard to make out his face, I continue to look in his direction, analyzing for a few moments the overly elegant outfit that hugs his body.
He wears a dark shirt that is unbuttoned at the first buttons, giving it a rebellious look. Despite the arms crossed across his chest, I can easily tell that his sleeves are rolled up and the shadows kissing his skin are tattoos.
I blink often and shift my gaze from that spot when Darius perches beside me, asking the bartender for another drink, then turns his attention back to me. Seemingly reading my thoughts, he arches his eyebrows questioningly, urging me to speak the words that are weighing on my tongue.
— Who's that guy upstairs? I ask without restraint, nodding briefly in his direction.
Darius frowns for a few moments, his eyes locked on the person in question, and I'm taken by surprise when he chuckles and quickly shakes his head from side to side in denial. He takes a deep breath, hurrying to take a sip from the glass the bartender hands him.
— They call him El Comandante. He's a public menace, in his voice I can sense a hint of irritation, which surprises me. You keep me away from the martini and I'll keep you away from him! he adds jokingly, raising his glass to his lips again.
I give him a reproachful look and purse my lips, wanting to scold him, but I swallow my words when a fiery-haired woman appears in front of us, taking turns smiling at us, and I can't tell if it's for the best or not. My gaze falls on the bright red dress that covers her body, a small part of it I pray, and when I turn my gaze back to Darius I notice that he is looking at her with pure disgust.
— I hope you're having a good time tonight, the red stained lips of the woman in front of me twitch, making me aware that she's addressing me.
— I certainly am! I smile briefly, looking at her skeptically.
She flashes a fake smile and then turns her eyes on Darius, scanning him from head to toe. When the woman winks briefly, I realize the two know each other.
— El Comandante requests your presence, please follow me, she says after a while, taking me completely by surprise.
I blink often, trying to figure out if I heard correctly or not, but when Darius settles in front of me I realize that my hearing hasn't deceived me.
— No way!
— It's all right, I suddenly interject, putting my hand fleetingly on his arm.
— Oh, bollocks! You're not going anywhere on my watch!
— Calm down! He's in a good mood. She's not going to itch or anything, the woman in front of us rolls her eyes, huffing unhappily.
I glance briefly at the place where the man who requested my presence was standing a few minutes ago, and a state of unease overcomes me for a few moments. Despite the instinct that tells me I'm about to make the most idiotic choice, I take a step forward, reaching the woman who looks as if she wants to kill Darius with her eyes.
— I'll be back soon. You can tell Dima I'm in the bathroom. I smile weakly at the corner of my mouth, fixing my gaze on his to let him know I'm not going to argue.
He sighs and nods mechanically, clearly unhappy with my choice, but he knows he can't stop me. Even though we've known each other for more than five years, I can't say we're very close. The truth is that we rarely spent more than a few hours together, as we often only saw each other on vacations in Málaga.
I try to keep up with the woman in front of me as we make our way through the crowd and breathe a sigh of relief when we reach the wooden stairs. My heart starts beating faster with every step I take, and by the time I reach the stairs I feel a little bit more and it's pounding out of my chest, but I can't tell if it's due to physical exertion or not.
— Good luck, sweetie! once in front of a sizable door, a knowing smile plays on the fiery-haired woman's face, before she opens it a few seconds later.
I swallow dryly, stepping into the dimly lit room, and fix my gaze on the wall in front of me, captivated by the paint staining it. Although my first instinct is to move closer to run my fingers over the cool surface, I don't, content to admire the work of art from a distance. The two angel wings that are connected by two crossed swords cover more than half of the wall's surface and are impossible to miss, while the third sword piercing the first two is definitely catching the eye.
My gaze falls on the white letters at the base of the painting, and a faint smile blooms on my face, amused by the irony of the name.
"Los ángeles de la venganza"
— How can you call yourself an angel when you walk among demons, I mutter to myself, tilting my head to the side to scrutinize the painting.
A short giggle shatters the silence into a thousand pieces, and my heart clenches as I scan my surroundings with my eyes, realizing that I'm not alone in the room that looks like an office. I forget to breathe when my gaze falls on a man standing only a few feet away, leaning against the window frame that touches the floor, offering quite a view.
— How can you call yourself a demon when you love an angel? his voice crashes against my eardrums, echoing in my mind for a few moments.
I purse my lips, wanting to answer him, but wince when he takes a few steps in my direction. The chandelier light floods in on him, and I realize it's the man who had been staring at me from a distance just a few minutes ago.
A feeling of unease takes over my entire body as my gaze meets the stranger who has stopped two steps away, giving me the opportunity to analyze his face. His gaze is cold, penetrating, terrifying. The sea-blue irises twist my soul, stealing every last shred of air from the shadow of his thick eyelashes that quiver slightly as he arches his full lips, giving me a weak smile.
I wish I could sketch a gesture, however small, but it's impossible. My gaze wanders from the wisps of ebony kissing her pale forehead to the fine tuft of tufts of hair hugging her arms, and I am mesmerized.
— To be a demon and love an angel is blasphemy... I whisper after a long silence, locking my gaze with his.
His smile widens as he takes another step, forcing my head back to look at him, and I have to admit that his height and build intimidate me more than it should.
— Welcome to Hell, querida!
I arch my eyebrows in mild amusement at the arrogance staining his voice. The intensity with which he stares at me seems to steal every shred of air, emptying my lungs of oxygen. I lock my eyes with his, smiling this time, which seems to take him by surprise.
— Some would call it paradise, I murmur dreamily, and he nods.
I watch as he turns on his heel, heading toward the massive mahogany desk behind which the mythic painting sits. He rests his hips against the edge of the desk and folds his arms across his chest, a gesture that reminds me that I don't know the reason I'm here. The reason he called me here.
— Please have a seat, his voice sounds like a whisper as he nods briefly toward one of the armchairs in front of the desk.
I crack a vague smile, glancing briefly around the room, which seems oddly inviting, despite the dark black staining the walls and the leather and mahogany furniture. For a few moments I forget that I'm not alone and linger longer than I should on the bookcase to my left that covers the entire wall.
I frown to myself, wondering what the point of a bookcase in a pub is and how anyone could concentrate on reading when the music is constantly pounding on their eardrums. I suddenly realize that the room is bathed in complete silence, which brings me down to earth.
I lower my voice and turn my gaze to the one in front of me, feeling somewhat ashamed that he's already looking at me.
— I prefer to stand, I reply almost mechanically, still taking a few steps in his direction.
He nods slightly, and for a few moments I feel the shadow of a smile begin to appear on his face. Silence covers us again, and I take advantage of this to analyze him shamelessly. I don't know if it's tiredness or the cocktail I've consumed, but I can't take my eyes off the man in front of me.
His defined jawline and furrowed eyebrows give him a ruggedness, and the tattoos covering his forearms certainly contribute. The man in front of me exudes danger through every pore, but in a bizarre way, I feel comfortable enough around him that I don't want to want to run away.
— Do you come here often? his voice comes again, taking me by surprise.
— No. Tonight I came for the first time, I confess without thinking too much about the purpose of his question.
— How did you get in? he asks almost instantly, taking me by surprise.
I arch my eyebrows, waving my hand in disinterest. I snort slightly amused when he turns his eyes on me, letting me know he's waiting for an answer.
— Through the door, I moisten my lips, shrugging as if it's a trivial thing.
A smile blooms on his face that puts him at his best, and he nods slightly as he uncrosses his hands from his chest and rests them on either side of his body, leaning them against the desk. He tilts his head from side to side, eyeing me skeptically.
— Am I mistaken, or did you bribe a certain security guard to get through that door? His smile is replaced by a grimace and I swallow dryly.
— No, you're not wrong. I bribed a guard to get me through that door, but I did it because he didn't believe me when I told him I was here to talk to someone who works here, I pause, glancing down at the phone in my hand, whose screen lights up, a clear sign that I've received a message.
— He looks at me questioningly, urging me to continue.
— I haven't broken the rules, if that's what you're asking, I complete, fixing my gaze on him. Is that why I'm here? - No.
I frown as his answer caresses my eardrums, and for the first time since I've been in this room, shivers of fear unapologetically kiss my skin. I swallow dryly when a smile blooms on his face that is meant to be a polite caress, but is really a smile of danger.
— Let's say you're here because of a certain note addressed to me.
I forget to breathe when he locks his gaze on mine and for a few long seconds I lose myself in his dark gaze. I feel like I'm drowning in an angry ocean and something inside my soul tells me that this is the second my life will change forever.
The second that will decide my present and shape my future.
***** Dictionary *****
La Mariposita (ES)- little butterfly
El Comandante (ES)- the commander
"Los ángeles de la venganza"( ES)-The angels of vengeance
Querida/Querido (ES)- dear/honey/sweetie