Chapter 7 - Aurora

“Aurora!”

“Greg!”

The small pudgy man squeezes me in a hug, laughing happily as he lets me go.

“It's so good to see you.”

“You too.”

We sit down at the table on the rooftop of a fancy restaurant, with a wide city view and cool afternoon winds.

“After our business last year, I didn't think I'll see you again. I hope there's nothing wrong with the firewall.” Concern flashes in Greg's eyes.

The man prides himself in having the best cyber security system and a flaw firewall might give him a heart attack.

“No, no,” I swiftly assure him. “Best investment I made. I'm here on a different matter. A personal matter.”

Greg’s demeanour instantly changes into serious business. “Go on.”

“A man applied for a remote working position in your firm. Dorian...Tempest.”

A light frown settles on Greg's face as he pulls out his phone and calls his secretary. After a minute to confirm, Greg hangs up and beams at me.

“Yes. Dorian Tempest. He's your husband right? You don't have to worry. I'll give him the best position, with the best salary. You shouldn't have bothered.”

I raise a hand to stop him, my gaze hardening with hatred.

“I don't want that.”

Greg blinks in confusion. “I thought —”

I interject angrily. “Reject his application. Blacklist him and inform other firms he might apply to.”

Shock ripples on Greg's face.

“I want him rejected from every job even if it's as a janitor. Make the rejections brutal. I don't want him to have any job.”

His jaw drops open, closes and opens again.

“Are you joking with me?”

“I don't joke with business Greg. Name your price. I want to make sure my demands are met with urgency.”

I see the questions burn behind his eyes. He wants to know why. He’s staring at me like I grew another head. He snaps his mouth shut and clears his throat.

“Don't insult me by offering me money, Aurora. I'll do it now charge. We're friends after all.”

I relax into my seat and allow some of my anger to flow away with the wind.

“Anything else?” He asks warily, as if just now realising I can be dangerous.

I smile. “Your discretion.”

He nods like he expected it. “Of course. And I can't ask why?”

“I can't tell you.” It's not a lie but Greg takes it that way.

“A secret then,” he says a little hurt.

If only I could say then I would. But I doubt he'll believe me. I mean how do I just say, “Greg, I hate the man I married because I found out he never loved me, only my money and he killed me three years in the future. But by some twisted fate, I got to come back and do it all over again.”

It sounds crazy even to me.

Whatever higher power preventing me from saying it, has done me a great service.

I sigh. “It will make sense soon enough.”

“Is he a good man?”

“No he isn't.”

“Good for me. Any other way I can help you let me know.” He reaches over the table and grasps my hand. “You don't have to go through it alone.”

I give his hand a light squeeze and pull away. Then stand and take my purse.

“I appreciate it Greg.”

I don't plan on doing it alone. Not at all.

As I leave the rooftop and walk to the exit, my surveillance phone vibrates and I pull it out of my purse and stop halfway.

Dorian has returned home. His heavy footsteps and happy singing voice floats out of the speaker clearly.

He walks in and out of frame and enters the bedroom, dumping the shopping bags into the closet.

“Where's that fucking woman?” He says, getting his phone and typing furiously.

My main phone pings with a text and I get moving again.

Once I'm in my car, I place the surveillance phone on a holder and fish out my phone to read the text from Dorian.

‘Where are you sexy lady?’

I text him back:

‘Lunch with Greg. Be back soon my love.’

His voice floats out with laughter. “Oh you poor fool. You stupid lovestruck puppy. I'm going to enjoy using you.”

His amused words send a knife into my chest and a chill runs down my legs. Despite my anger and hatred, I loved this man. I was utterly and completely in love with him.

It's so surreal that my husband is a total stranger.

‘I love you.’ His text enters.

With stiff fingers, I send I love you too.

Sadness fills me as I remember how we first met; every word, every smile and glance.

I don't need my cane. I can go weeks without it provided I never miss a dose of my drugs. But that week had been rough and my legs refused to cooperate with me.

Dorian had been infront of me and paid for my coffee. He hadn't seen me as the woman with the cane or looked at me with pity. His genuine smile had disarmed me.

The smooth way he said, “My dad taught me to never let a beautiful woman pay for her coffee.”

Now I think about it, how long had he practiced that line?

How long had he followed me and timed it just right?

How many of our dates did he and Bianca plan?

It's like my heart is breaking all over again. The wounds peeling open and bleeding where his betrayal had carved me deep.

On the screen, Dorian is undressing behind the house, whistling happily. He jumps into the pool naked with a loud splash.

Here I am “securing” a job for him while he swims in the pool and drinks my expensive wine.

Bitter fury seizes me as I watch him, wondering if any part of him—no matter how little—ever cared about me. The tears that manage slip out of my eyes, I wipe them away furiously and start the car.

I need Sylas.

I can't do this without him.