CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) by M.E. YILDIRIM Read Free Book Online Page B

in the
corner but his eyes were riveted to the window and focused on the outer world.
Her first thought was that he would probably prefer to be elsewhere at the
moment just like her, and for one nerve-wracking second she was not sure
whether she was relieved or more worried to see him awaiting her.
    For some reason these deliberations filled
her with some kind of sadness and it was when his head snapped up, his eyes
narrowed and his gaze solely focused on her.
    Cat swallowed audibly, deeply regretting
going against her screaming instinct, and entered the café, which in her eyes
changed into a minefield covered with all types of lethal traps.
    Yet she walked closer and took a seat in
front of him without waiting for his dubious invitation.
    She was surprised that she didn’t stumble on
her way toward the table because there was something very dark in his bright
eyes, something that was making her forget about the elusive safety of the
crowd.
    Especially after she remembered the last
time the audience did her no good.
“Hello, it’s noon on Tuesday and here I am. Where is my camera?” The cool
meaningless smile she offered him was a mirror reflection of the one Florence
Bennett had reserved for people who were prone to cause trouble.
    Catalina wished she had her grandmother’s
self-confidence as well, but apparently today was one of these days when she
was left completely on her own.

 
    ***
     
    Xan’s temper hadn’t cooled off throughout
the night. On the contrary, it seemed to be more volatile than before and he
was surprised he didn’t undergo a spontaneous combustion.
    No matter how idiotic the idea was he felt
like teetering on the very edge of his control and when he looked at himself in
the mirror this morning he could have sworn he saw his old man’s face there
instead of his own.
    It rocked him to his core.
    He had done everything in his power to free
himself from the influence that person could have on him and the mere
idea he was following in his father’s dearest footsteps was causing him to
break into a cold sweat. But he knew better than to deny the fact that his
outbursts of anger were inherited from Robert Thorpe.
    The only but fundamental difference was how
they were dealing with it.
    He had never deliberately hurt innocents,
while his father was getting his rocks off on causing pain and misery wherever
he went, Xan thought and forced himself to release the white-knuckled grip he
had on the glass of water he had ordered and was pretending to drink now.
    He would have preferred it to be a glass of
perfectly aged smoky whiskey or a shot of iced vodka.
Too bad he didn’t drink either.
    He wasn’t a happy camper while he sat
awaiting the woman, assuming she was going to make an appearance in the first
place, Xan wondered for a hundredth time. At least it felt like he didn’t
consider anything else besides that, he mocked himself.
    He kept racking his brain but he couldn’t
find a non-threatening reason for her to snap pictures in the first place.
Neither an undercover cop nor a journalist bode particularly well for the club
or for him personally. Yet whatever the purpose behind the shots was, the club hadn’t
been raided, and nobody had knocked on his door either.
    Nobody except Isis, but he was not going
there, Xan decided.
    This Catalina person seemingly got all that
she had come for from the underground club. She had no reason to show up today.
No reason apart from her camera, he thought. He ignored her distress before but
now it was the only hope he clung to for seeing her again.
    And when he finally unglued his gaze from
the view behind the window his eyes landed on the woman as if he beckoned her
with his will alone.
    His first thought was correct, Xan
reaffirmed, the primness was a part of her just like that night at the club,
along with nervousness that could be seen only in the restlessness of her gaze belying
the coolness she tried to display there.
    Something seemed to shatter in her