A Tall Drink of Water

It had already been three days since Myra was last at Xavier's place. The longer she stayed away, the more awkward it felt. She kept replaying possible conversations in her head, trying to figure out what she would say when she had to inevitable face him again.

There had been one missed call from him, but she had dreaded returning it. Thankfully, Xavier hadn't texted nor did he call her again. 

Maybe he didn't care. 

Or perhaps he was just waiting for her to come back on her own. 

The thought made her stomach twist up in knots. Part of her felt relieved that he hadn't chased after her, another part, perhaps a smaller, irrational part wondered why he hadn't. 

With a sharp exhale, she focused on the damp, decaying warehouse around her. The air was thick, filled with scents of dust and mildew, and the occasional creaking of the rusted beams overhead did nothing to ease her nerves. 

"Are you sure this is the place?" Sarah yelled out to Gracie, eyeing their surroundings with an obvious look of disgust. She kicked a loose piece of concrete, watching it skitter across the cracked floor. 

"Because this place definitely looks like the place where people get murdered in cold blood." 

"This is exactly how horror movies start," Myra added under her breath. 

"Guys relax, this is the place. He said he would be here shortly." Gracie answered, not bothering to look up as she scrolled through her phone to see check if she got the place right. 

Sarah muttered something under her breath, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. "I swear to god Gracie, if this turns into some weird cult initiation ..." 

Before Sarah could finish her sentence, a smooth, deep and velvety voice echoed through the space. 

"Now, now, girls. You wound me with your paranoia." 

The three of them turned toward the sound, Myra's breath catching slightly at the figure stepping out of the shadows. 

The figure moved with an easy, almost lazy confidence, like he had all the time in the world. His golden-blond hair was slightly tousled, effortlessly stylish, and his dark blue - almost navy eyes gleamed with something sharp and unreadable. He was dressed in a sleek, well-tailored all black suit and shirt, looking completely out of place in the abandoned warehouse. 

Marcus Belmont. 

Gracie let out a little resigned sigh, leaned within earshot of Sarah and Myra, followed with, "Guys, he's just a little whacked, but he's family, so ... let's try to be civil, yeah?" 

Sarah narrowed her eyes, not taking her eyes off Marcus "Define a little whacked." 

Marcus smirked as if he had heard her, his gaze flickering over to Myra. "Doubt, you must not, girls. Trust, you shall, in me." 

He took another step forward, his sharp, assessing gaze sweeping over them before finally settling on Myra. 

Myra stiffened at his peculiar manner of speaking, and Sarah's head snapped toward the direction of the voice, "Oh great. He speaks in riddles." 

Gracie sighed dramatically, gesturing toward him. "Myra, Sarah - meet my charming cousin, Marcus Belmont. My mother's side of the family is whacked. He's the more normal one." 

Marcus smirked. "A compliment, that is not." 

Sarah crossed her arms. "Why do you talk like that? You sound like Yoda." 

Marcus chuckled, a low and amused sound. "Much wisdom, the little green man has. Should listen to him, you must." 

Gracie groaned. "Ugh. This is why I never introduce you to people." 

As they spoke, Myra kept her gaze fixed on Marcus, studying him carefully. Something felt off about him. 

She had met men like him before, the ones who moved through the world like they owned it. The ones who knew they were attractive and used it to their advantage. But something wasn't quite right about Marcus. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and the way his eyes looked at her, as if looking into her soul. 

It made her skin crawl. 

It wasn't that he was leering or openly disrespectful. No, Marcus Belmont seemed much more polished for that. His interest was quieter, and more insidious. Like a predator locked into his prey, yet in no rush to pounce on it. 

She felt like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a well-fed wolf. 

"Myra," Marcus suddenly directed her attention to her. 

The way he said her name sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. Not because it was threatening, but because it felt like he was stating the syllables of her name, rolling them over in his mind, as if trying to commit them to memory. 

Myra swallowed back. 

"Myra, staring at me, you are." Marcus smoothly spit out. 

Myra's cheeks heated and blushed the deepest red. "Sorry," She quickly said, forcing herself to look away. 

Marcus's smirk deepened and his manner of speaking returned to normal for a bit, "No need to apologize. I get that a lot." 

Sarah chocked back on a laugh and Gracie simply rolled her eyes, but Marcus's held his vision onto Myra for a second too long. 

Sensing his weird fixation on Myra, Gracie shifted the conversation, "Enough pleasantries. You said you could help with money?" 

Marcus took a quick look at Gracie "I thought it was for her." and directed his gaze back to Myra. 

Gracie quickly nodded. "It is. And I can vouch for her. We'll pay you back." 

Marcus studied Myra for a long moment, titling his head slightly. "That depends. Are you looking for a handout or an opportunity?" 

Sarah was starting to get annoyed with him, "Just say what you mean, dude." 

Gracie shot her a look before turning back to Marcus. "What exactly are you offering?" 

Marcus's gaze slid back to Myra, his interest palpable. She felt eyes digging into her and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, feeling as though he were peeling layers of her with just his eyes. 

"A deal, I am proposing." He took a slow step closer, his presence overwhelming Myra. "Work for me, you shall. A secretary, you will be. Your needs, I shall fund." 

Myra's brows furrowed. "You want me to work as your secretary?" 

"Smart, you are. Beautiful, even more so. To struggle? A waste, it would be." His lips curled in a faint, knowing smile. "Accept, will you?" 

Sarah's fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to physically drag Myra away. She whispered to Gracie, "He's either a psychopath, or a villain. Or worse, he's both." 

Gracie, however, seemed unfazed by his cousin. "I did tell you my mom's side of the family is weird and crazy." 

Sarah whispered back, "I always thought you were the weird one in your family. I guess you are more Belmont than Sinclair." 

Myra seemed to be speechless. "This feels insane. I've never worked as a secretary before." 

Marcus stepped closer towards Myra, lowering his voice. "Insane, life is. But power, I offer. Independence, you crave. A way out, this is." 

Myra just stood looking at him, trying to understand what he wanted from her. After a long, heavy pause, Myra finally said, "Can I think about it?" 

Marcus's smirk widened bright as if he had just heard some good news. His eyes seems to now dart towards the empty space, "Think fast, you must. Time waits for no man. Next time, bring none but one - three, the max shall be."

************

"Wow, your cousin Marcus, is a tall drink of water. But so weird." Sarah shrugged a chill away as they watched his figure disappear. 

"Seriously, does he always talk like this?" 

Gracie groaned, rubbing her temples. "Trust me, it's so exhausting. Imagine having to hear that at family functions." 

Myra kept her eyes on the space that his figure disappeared to, although he was no longer there, the feeling of a strange chill kept lingering on. 

"He's creepy but so very attractive. Like if a villain and a philosopher had a child.", Sarah said, not sure whether she liked meeting him or not. 

Gracie smirked. "And that, my dear friends, is exactly why my mother's side of the family is rarely invited to Christmas." 

The three girls burst out laughing. 

***********

Meanwhile, across the city, a man sat in his office, his fingers drumming against the mahogany desk as he stared at the report in front of him. His chiseled jaw was clenched, tension radiating off him in waves. 

Scattered across his desk were pictures, grainy pictures from quite a distance - capturing Myra, Sarah, and Gracie in the abandoned warehouse. But what caught the man's attention was the fourth figure, cloaked in shadows. Unlike the others, this one seemed aware of the camera, standing at just the right angle to avoid being fully captured. It seemed deliberate. And calculated. As if the person knew they were being watched. 

"Any idea who it was they met?", Xavier's voice was domineering, his grip tightening on the edge of his desk. 

Lucas hesitated before shaking his head. "Not yet. But I'll keep digging." 

Xavier's gaze darkened as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling together. He felt as if his patience was running thin. 

Who the hell was Myra dealing with? And why did it feel like whoever it was had something to hide? 

"Myra.", Xavier spoke out her name. 

His eyes burned into the shadowed figure in the photographs, his grip tightening on the desk. Whoever this was, they knew they were being watched - and they wanted Xavier to know it too. 

"Bring her back. Now." he commanded, his tone low and absolute. A command, not a request. 

Lucas gave a curt nod, already moving to carry out the order.