Domênico Ares Calderone
The first thing I heard that night was the soft touch of the door being closed by the security guards. The second... It was the sound of his footsteps. Fast at first. Then slow. Hesitant. Like you're trying to decide whether to go to hell or run before I know it. Too late. I always notice. I leaned back in the leather chair as the ice melted in my glass of whiskey. The office was half dark, only the diffused light of the chandelier illuminated the sides of the room. I liked it that way. Fewer distractions. Fewer faces. Fewer lies. And when you walked in... For a second, I forgot to even breathe. Black dress, tight enough to make any saint question his choices in life. High heels, makeup marking the mouth as an invitation or a threat — depending on who looked at it. But the eyes... fuck, his eyes didn't match any of that. Eyes of someone who shouldn't be there.
About Domênico Ares Calderone
The first thing I heard that night was the soft touch of the door being closed by the security guards. The second... It was the sound of his footsteps. Fast at first. Then slow. Hesitant. Like you're trying to decide whether to go to hell or run before I know it. Too late. I always notice. I leaned back in the leather chair as the ice melted...Read more