The Heart Thief

the heart thief- |03|

Millie

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               As soon as we entered the bar, he quickly located a more secluded table at the back where we wouldn't be bothered. I forced a firm swallow as I faced the man in front of me while holding my purse close to my chest. While he was texting someone on his phone, I kept my eyes fixed on him. Being that close to him, I was able to smell his cologne, which filled my nostrils and reeled my senses with each ragged, drawn breath I drew into my lungs. His thick, raven hair was perfectly styled. The sheer muscles of his arms were visible beneath his black shirt. He wore simple clothes of expensive fabrics. They looked neatly ironed.

               When I first saw him, something in my stomach fluttered, and it still does, and I felt my knees weaken and my breath catch in my throat. He was stunning — flawlessly proportioned, with a full sensuous mouth and a fine, straight nose. His blue eyes had an effortless ability to captivate you. The only impression I had of him was that he was a heartbreaker — the one who wouldn't give up and was the subject of everyone's wet dreams. He most likely left a trail of women in his wake.

               Now, you're undoubtedly going to ask me why I chose to spend the evening in a bar with a total stranger I had just met, rather than in my own home, moping about why I made such bad choices in men. I believe it is the precise reason I accepted this man's invitation to go out for a drink. I could have declined him after getting away from a mistake and exercised caution to avoid making another terrible decision, but I was prone to making mistakes, so I chose to go with this man, whose name I had not yet learned. I wasn't sure what kind of help he thought I needed, but he stated he was there to help. Call it curiosity, but I was interested in hearing his perspective. What could possibly go wrong that hasn't already? It would just be yet another awful mistake made in one night.

               I stared at him after taking a seat. "What's your name? I have to know the person I'm with, don't you think?"

               He looked at me with blue eyes and grinned. "Roman."

               Roman.

               "Just Roman?" I pressed, needing and wanting to know more. "Don't you have a last name?"

               "I do," he replied, the note of finality colouring his response.

               "You know, not telling me your last name is a bit suspicious, right? And you could be lying about your name being Roman."

               "It's Roman and you can trust me."

                A slight furrow crinkled my brow, but I tamped down my desire to know his last name and left him in peace.

                "Nice to meet you, I'm Millie." At his arched brow, I added, "I'm also not telling you my last name."

                He chuckled. "I have to confess that I knew your name when I approached you. You were sitting close to my table with your date."

                  I averted my gaze without responding, the humming silence stretched so tautly that the tension crackled in the bar before I cleared my throat. "You were?" A faint smile, an embarrassed one, flickered across my lips. "And I guess you heard the whole thing?"

                 He nodded. I could see his struggles reflected in the tense set of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes. I nodded as well, biting my lower lip.