Chapter 2 The Predator and the Prey

Maximo's lips curved into a subdued, knowing smile-the kind that made her shiver. It was not comforting, not friendly. solely chilly certainty.

"Cathy Simmons," he whispered, his voice deep and soft, like dark velvet, giving her an electric jolt.

Her pulse thung in her ears as she looked at him. His chilly, calculated eyes lacked blink action. They seemed to chew her soul apart. An odd, foreign sensation swept over her. She was not staring solely at him. She was experiencing him, the dark force emanating from him like heat.

Her instincts shouted that every inch of this man contained danger. She was fixed to the spot, nevertheless, for some reason that defies explanation and enthralled by his weight.

Then Maximo turned, his motions fluid like a shadow pulling back. "Get in the car," he said with relentless clarity. "We're heading out."

Cathy sat across from him, her body stiff and gaze concentrated on the road ahead, defying his frigid look. Her heart raced, and her ideas flew in a mess searching for something to say. All things. But nothing felt right given the man seated a few feet away.

Maximo's presence seemed as though it were a weight pressing on her chest, the air heavy with unsaid conflict. His jaw was hard, his face enigmatic, but more than anything the intensity in his eyes, the calm he projected, unsettled her.

She aimed to pay attention to everything except him. Under her was a soft leather seat. The lights pass outside. Still waking and alive, the city. But every time she turned to face him, her eyes landed on the exquisite cut of his suit, the sharpness of his features, the slight but clear sense of danger clinging to him like a second skin.

"Why are you pursuing this?" Though she tried, her voice came out shakily and less than she wanted.

Maximo kept his eyes fixed on the road, his hold on the steering wheel constant. "Because you need it," he said in a flat, unassuming tone devoid of explanation. That was the most basic response. The kind of response suggested he knew more than she did.

Her throat tightened as her pulse sped. Though she couldn't, her fingers yearned to ask questions and demand responses. The weight of the moment anchored her. She switched her gaze back to Maximo, but his face stayed blank, his concentration fixed on the road forward.

Was he even aware she had seen?

"Is this... protection?" asked. Fear and incredulity mixed as she spoke, and then she couldn't stop herself.

Maximo avoided her a glance; his eyes frigid but something more, something deeper, flickering behind them. His jaw tightened just so slightly. He said, "Protection," his voice low. Soon enough, you will understand.

Cathy's eyes strayed to the soaring stone walls ahead, casting out the hum of the city. With its large doors gently swinging open to greet them inside, the villa resembled a black sentinel. As the tyres stopped, the gravel driveway cracked under them.

As Maximo got out of the car, his form sliced across the night like a shadow and he said nothing. Cathy stepped out with reluctant legs as well. Her cold night air enveloped her, much different from the heat Maximo appeared to emanate. Every movement he made was deliberate, and controlled, akin to the predator he was.

Maximo motioned towards the large wooden doors of the villa and whispered, "Come inside," his voice low and nearly a command.

Cathy looked back. The villa's austere harsh, forceful design stood in sharp contrast to the beautiful beauty of Venice she had just left behind, almost frightening. But right now there was no choice. Her sneakers resounding on the stone sidewalk, she moved ahead, trailing him into the large entrance.

Though it held an unusual, dead silence, the interior was as majestic as the outside. Under the low illumination of chandeliers, high ceilings, soaring columns, and polished marble flooring shined. The air itself seemed heavy, as though secrets permeated everything. She felt uncomfortable, a tiny person in a room too big and too chilly.

Maximo brought her to a guest room, its simple design providing nothing except chilly, perfect luxury. The bed was big, covered in white linens, and a little sitting space at the window peered into the dark, quiet courtyard.

Maximo's voice burst through her ideas, "Rest here." His voice was so quiet, so under control that it simply made her more uncomfortable. "We will talk in the morning."

Cathy halted in the doorway, her fingers tightly curled around the doorknob. The room seemed to be closing in on her, quietly pressing against her skin. Though the words stuck in her throat, she wanted to ask him about the gun and about why she was there.

Maximo turned to go, his motions repeating. But Cathy saw something through the window as the door snapped closed behind him.

a statistic.

Outstanding outside.

Near the tall iron fence enclosing the villa, a shadow indistinguishable from the gloom of the grounds remained motionless. The man was tall, skinny, and armed. She could see the faint gleam of something metallic in the moonlight-perhaps a weapon?

Her heart missed a beat.

The guard stilled himself; his presence was a subdued threat.

Maximo moved with flowing ease, each step intentional, his presence dominating. He seated across from her, the distance between them hardly sufficient to keep the intensity from smothering her. He was an invisible force, relentless, unboundedly dangerous.

The clink of cutlery seemed to heighten the suspense in the room as the first course was set in front of them. Cathy's fingers hung over her fork; her appetite vanished. Though it was excellent, the meal seemed like the last thing she could be thinking about right now. She kept thinking about the pistol she had seen earlier, about the guard outside her window, about the grip of authority Maximo had over everything here.

Maximo looked never away from her. On her skin, she could feel it as though an unseen hand were dragging her towards him. Her anxiety was exacerbated by his calm demeanour; his dominance was evident, and for the first time in her life she was unsure of how to play the game.

"Eat," he said gently, the words as much an invitation as a directive. His voice was low, silky like the fabric of his suit. Though his tone was not demanding, there was no space for rebellion.

Though her tummy turned over, Cathy nodded and chewed. Though it tasted great, it had little effect to calm the tempest developing inside her. She felt more than just a guest here. something else as well.

Their eyes locked momentarily, the least movement in the air between them. The electricity was tangible, as though the simple act of their looking at each other would cause her to feel simultaneously vulnerable and exposed.

Maximo exclaimed, his voice shattering the quiet, "I'm not one for small talk." Still, I guess we ought to reach some understanding. He slanted back in his chair, perfectly. You are here, Cathy, for protection. That is it. Make sense?

His gaze fixed hers, probing, searching. She was unsure about how to answer or express the questions raging in her chest. Was this genuinely defence? Alternatively, may she be only a pawn in his universe?

Cathy reached for her wine glass and her fingers shook just slightly. Maximo's eyes tracked the movement, a minute change in his face suggesting something darker.

She dropped her hand down on the table without thinking; her fingertips brushed his edge.

Following their little conversation at the dinner table, Maximo had gone quiet. He had withdrawn into the shadows, his presence still felt in the room, but he no longer talked. His silence ate at her; it was a statement in and of itself that she could not understand. Maximo was different; she had always been able to read people and grasp their motivations. A maze of paradoxes, every more elusive than the previous.

Rising, she aimlessly wandered the room attempting to shake the discomfort crawling under her skin. She left this room unable to stay. Not when everything seemed overly weighty, too much. She had to get moving and think.

Her eyes strayed to the room's corner, though, as she walked the floor. Maximo watched her with the same fierce, impenetrable stare as his figure was just partially hidden by the darkness. Her breath seized in her throat as the room seemed to contract.

He had not gone anywhere. He had not said anything. Still, it seemed as though the silence had gotten more profound. Every inch of the villa felt as though it was closing in on her, his presence was overpowering and undetectable.

Fear mixed with something else Cathy couldn't describe as Cathy sensed the storm building inside her. She wanted to challenge him, demand the truth, why had he brought her here? Really, what was he looking for?

Her voice stammered, though, before she could say. He overreached himself. Too demanding.

Maximo forward then, his motions purposeful and fluid. She could see the rigidity in his features as he came into the light; his jaw closed ever so gently, as though he were suppressing something. something risky.

His voice was low, "You think you can keep your distance," he murmured. Still, you cannot. Not from myself.

Cathy stepped back attempting to keep some sort of control, her pulse accelerated and her hands shook. He approached too closely. Extremely risky.

He fixed his gaze on hers. Cathy, you will learn soon enough. This, us, has already begun, you will find. And it ends only when I say it does