"Alexa? I'm Daniel Blinks. It's an absolute pleasure," he said, his voice a smooth, pleasant voice. He took her hand, not for a handshake, but holding it lightly for a moment. The touch was polite, dry, and entirely without spark.
She summoned her celebrity smile, the one that was warm, inviting, and utterly false. "The pleasure is mine, Daniel. Please, sit."
He chuckled as he took his seat, a sound that was meant to be engaging. But all it did was conjure another memory, a low, rich chuckle that was strangely pleasant, which only infuriated her more. 'Stop it', she commanded herself. 'This is ridiculous. Stop thinking about that man's.
"I have to admit," Daniel said, leaning forward, "I was a bit nervous. My friend said I was meeting a celebrity, but he vastly undersold you. You're even more stunning in person."
"Thank you," she said, the response automatic. She glanced over his shoulder and saw Chloe giving her a vigorous double thumbs-up. Alexa rolled her eyes subtly before returning her attention to Daniel.
The waiter appeared, and they placed their orders. Alexa, ordered with an appetite that would have shocked any other person to finish: a starter, a main course, two side dishes, and a dessert.
Daniel's eyebrows rose slightly. "I have to admire your appetite," he remarked with another chuckle. "Most actresses I've met are watching their weight like hawks. It's refreshing to see someone so… unrestrained."
The comment was likely meant as a compliment, but it landed with a dull thud. A flash of irritation, hot and familiar, sparked within her. It was the same feeling Lysander provoked, but without the dangerous, intellectual thrill. This was just… mundane.
She kept her smile plastered on. "This is how I usually eat," she said lightly. In her mind, the retort was far sharper, 'Of course, we're not ordinary humans. I could probably out-eat you and still maintain a very fine shape, thank you very much.'
The conversation unfolded with a predictable rhythm. Daniel was, as promised, very nice. He was a venture capitalist, successful and articulate. He spoke about his work, his travels, his love for sailing. He asked her about her acting career with a polite interest that felt surface-level. She gave him polished, short answers, the stories she told on talk shows. They talked about films, about politics, about the city's restaurant scene. It was perfectly pleasant.
As he described a recent trip to Bali, Alexa found her mind drifting. 'Maybe this is the answer', she thought, a desperate hope taking root. 'Maybe if I just let myself be swept along by this pleasantness, by this normalcy, I can forget him'. She tried to focus on Daniel's face, on his nice, brown eyes. But her imagination betrayed her. Instead of his well-manicured hand, she pictured a different one—pale, long-fingered, perhaps still bearing the faint marks of shackles. She imagined that touch on her arm, not polite and brief, but deliberate, possessive. What would it feel like on her skin? Not the impersonal touch of a stylist or the polite grip of a date, but a touch that knew her, that saw past the celebrity smile and the carefully constructed armor, a touch of lovers.
A jolt of heat, entirely inappropriate and deeply unsettling, shot through her. It was followed immediately by a wave of self-recrimination. 'No' She shook her head slightly, as if to physically dislodge the thought. 'That's not right. He's a monster. A captivating, intelligent monster, but a monster nonetheless'.
"Hello? Earth to Alexa?" A hand waved gently in front of her face.
She blinked, startled back to the present. Daniel was looking at her with an expression of amused curiosity.
"A penny for your thoughts?" he asked, his head tilted. "You seemed a million miles away. I was just asking if you'd ever been to Napa Valley. I have a friend with a vineyard there."
She felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. "I'm so sorry," she said, forcing an embarrassed laugh that sounded horribly strained to her own ears. "It's been a long week. The photoshoot today was more draining than I expected. My mind just… wandered. Nothing important, I assure you."
He accepted the explanation with a gracious nod, but a faint shadow of doubt crossed his features. The easy flow of the conversation had been broken. He tried to pick it up again, asking about the photoshoot, but the spell, what little there had been was shattered.
For the rest of the dinner, Alexa made a concerted effort to be present. She laughed at his jokes, she asked follow-up questions about his ventures, she played the part of the charming, attentive date. But it was just that, a part. A role she was performing. And all the while, a silent, furious debate raged within her.
Daniel was safe. He was normal. He represented a life without dungeons, without world-ending threats, without complicated, terrifying attractions to one's enemies. He was a path back to the woman she was supposed to live. A simpler existence.
Lysander was everything opposite. He was danger, complexity, and a challenge that resonated with the deepest, most hidden parts of her soul. He saw the spirit in her that her friends celebrated but didn't truly understand. He spoke to the fear she never voiced. Being near him was like standing on the edge of a precipice. It was terrifying, but it also made her feel more alive than she ever had sitting in a safe, elegant restaurant.
When the dessert plates were cleared away and Daniel suggested getting the check, Alexa felt a profound sense of relief. He walked her to the park where her car was waiting with the chauffeur.
"I had a really nice time, Alexa," Daniel said, his smile still perfectly in place.
"I did too," she lied smoothly. "Thank you for a lovely evening."
He leaned in, and for a horrifying moment, she thought he might try to kiss her. Instead, he simply kissed her cheek, a brief, polite gesture. "Perhaps we could do it again sometime?"
"Perhaps," she said, the non-committal answer feeling like a betrayal of both him and herself. She slid into the plush interior of the car, the door closing with a solid, muffled thud that sealed her in silence.
As the car pulled away from the park, she caught one last glimpse of Daniel Blinks, a handsome, nice man moving towards his car. Then she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. The image that immediately filled her mind was not his pleasant face, but a pair of silver eyes glinting in the gloom of a cell, and a whisper that seemed to echo in the very confines of the luxury automobile.