She was nervous about meeting him at the beach, but wasn’t quite sure why. Something about him made her anxious. Perhaps it was his brisk businesslike manner, emotionless and without empathy. Perhaps his tall foreboding and mysterious darkness did it.
Thinking back on the romantic weekend they spent together distressed her. It should have been perfect, with the champagne on the river barge, and the candlelit dinner at the restaurant with the gorgeous view. Even though they shared an ardent kiss, he didn’t seem too concerned when she opted for bed instead of the fervent passion she was sure he should have had on his mind.
Something about the weekend had alerted her instincts. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She remembered how he had snapped at their waiter when he dropped the freshly baked bread roll from between his tongs. And how his dark eyes blackened when their conversation was interrupted by the hostess calling him to take a call at the bar. When he returned to the table, his demeanour was curt and abrupt. It took another glass of wine before his stiff manner started to loosen up.
She put on her red lipstick, the one he said reminded him of blood orchids, and drove over to the hotel on the beach where they agreed to get together. She wasn’t certain why he insisted on meeting at sunset. That also inexplicably made her wary.
When she arrived, he was waiting for her at the promenade to the beach. Her heart skipped a beat and her intuition screamed a silent warning. As he saw her approaching he held out his hand. She cautiously took it and immediately felt his cold flesh close around her. Too late, he was leading her down the path into the darkness...