Possessed hearts - стр. 31

Brandon looked at me intently.

– Where was this picture taken and when? – He asked.

– Ten years ago. In Prague. The girl seemed picturesque, so I decided to take a snap of her. I didn't think you'd be so attracted to a photograph of a mortal," I told him in a sweet tone.

– I don't want that picture. I need something else.

I grinned wryly. I thought there was something odd about his phrasing. Like a confession.

"Something else." If he didn't want the photograph as a work of art, did that mean he bought it back just because I made it?

No. No way.

– Frankly, I have little interest in your motives, Brandon. But now that we're done, I'll leave you to it. – I rose from my chair, tossed my hair carelessly over my shoulder, and picked up my clutch.

– 'And it was because of your indifference that you called me with this question?

– Oh, you intrigue me terribly. But not today.

– I wouldn't be so sure.

– Or maybe you just like to question my indifference? – I said sweetly.

– Is this the only copy? – Brandon suddenly asked in a cold tone.

– Yes.

– Where's the picture you showed to Attick?

– He has it. As agreed. Bye, Brandon. You're a pleasure to do business with. – I winked playfully at him and walked slowly, beautifully and smoothly out of the restaurant.

It wasn't until I left the hotel that I allowed myself to squeeze my eyes shut. For a few seconds. Banish this conversation. This meeting.

He knows. About me. Knows my secret.

But he reacted with complete indifference. I can breathe a sigh of relief.

And yet. The fact that I was seen with mortals by two witnesses is disturbing. Two? Maybe more? Shit. We have to be careful.

Five minutes. Five minutes, but it was an eternity.

Get out! Get out of here!

"I need Adam," I thought.

But this time, if I do find him… I'll kill him. I'll kill his light form.

I needed to kill.

Kill. Something pure. A light.

Adam.

But I didn't find him that night.

Back at the hotel, devastated, angry and nervous, I called the airport to buy tickets.

To escape. Out of this city where Brandon Avery Grayson reigns supreme.

But as I clutched my phone, sitting in the chair in my expensive suite, I realised. The truth had hit me: I had no one to fly to.

Misha is with Fredrik, and he won't be happy to see me.

My parents. No. They have their own lives.

Mariszka and Markus… Yes, ha ha ha! You bet!

Mscislav… I don't even know where he is or what he's doing.

Martin.

I dialled my older brother's number. He answered after four seconds. I counted.

– I'm coming to see you. On tonight's flight. Where are you? Meet me at the airport.

A minute later, a night flight to Gdansk was bought. One way.

It's about one o'clock in the morning.

Martin and I are sitting on a wooden bench facing the sea, overlooking a narrow but picturesque bay full of ships, old-looking yachts and boats. On the other side of the bay, to which a wide paved bridge connects us, shine the bright red glowing letters of an advert near the roof of a low building. The lights of the waterfront are reflected in the dark water. The lifeless glow of the streetlights. The quiet noise made by the few mortals left here in the late hours pales against the beauty of this evening. The sound of the waves caresses the ear. Somewhere on another street, a street musician is playing, making a living by singing and playing guitar. But he has a good voice. Strong. Solid. It's nice to hear him in duet with the splash of the sea.