Page 6 of Felix (4 Seats #2)

Chapter Six

Aurora Henry

“ K eep the change,” I snap, shoving a fistful of crumpled bills into the taxi driver’s hand. The morning flight was delayed by two goddamn hours, leaving me stranded at the airport with nothing but time to think about Felix—that dark, mysterious stranger who wormed his way into my thoughts.

“Thanks,” the cabbie mutters, peeling away from the curb without another word. Fuck him, too, then.

I stomp up to my front door, fishing for the keys in my bag, when the scent hits me—roses. Red-fucking-roses. My heart starts pounding like a sledgehammer against my ribs, and it’s all I can do to shove the key into the lock and wrench the door open.

“Jesus Christ!” I curse, taking in the chaos that was once my cosy home.

Furniture is overturned, books are scattered across the floor like confetti, and there, on the bench, is a single goddamn red rose sitting in a cup.

The rest of the roses have been thrown and trampled all over the carnage that has befallen my once peaceful sanctuary.

Tears prick at my eyes as I take in the devastation.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I can’t breathe. Panic grips me like a vice around my chest. It’s him. My ex. He’s found me after six fucking months. I slam the door shut, my hands shaking as the memories threaten to swallow me whole.

“Get a grip, Aurora,” I whisper through gritted teeth, pressing my back against the door. “You’re not that scared little girl anymore. You’re strong. You survived.”

My mind drifts back to Felix, that enigmatic man who somehow saw through my tough exterior, branding me his ‘darling’ with that deep, gravelly voice that sent shivers down my spine.

What the fuck did he want with me? As much as the thought terrifies me, I can’t help but feel a strange pull towards him.

Like maybe, just maybe, he can protect me from the darkness that keeps trying to drag me under.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, pushing away from the door and stepping into my ruined sanctuary. “You want to play games? Let’s fucking play.”

I dial 000, my fingers trembling as I press the buttons. “Hey, my house has been broken into and trashed. I need someone here ASAP.” My voice is firm, but I can’t help the slight tremble that seeps in.

“Understood, miss. We’ll send officers to your location immediately. Please stay on the line,” the operator says. I grip the phone tightly, pacing around the wreckage of my living room.

“Fuck, this is so fucked up,” I mutter under my breath, anger building like a firestorm inside me. Tyres screeching outside snap me out of my thoughts.

“About damn time,” I say as I catch sight of the patrol car rolling up. Two officers step out, their eyes wide as they take in the scene before them. They don’t waste any time getting to work, snapping photos and dusting for fingerprints.

“Ma’am, did you notice anything out of the ordinary before you left?” one of the cops asks, his voice steady and professional.

“Nothing. Just got back from a trip. He must’ve been watching me…” I trail off, fear prickling at my spine. I shake my head, trying to dispel the creeping darkness threatening to envelop me.

“Alright. Well, we’ll do everything we can to find who did this. In the meantime, maybe it’s best if you find somewhere else to stay tonight,” he suggests gently. He’s right, of course. There’s no fucking way I’m staying here tonight.

“Thanks,” I manage to say through gritted teeth. “I’ll do that.”

“Good. We’ll be in touch,” he says, handing me his card. As soon as they’re gone, I grab my purse and a fresh bag of clothes and storm out of my ruined home.

“Motherfucker is not gonna win this time,” I growl as I march down the street. I find a hotel nearby and book a room, praying it’ll be enough to keep me safe for now. Once inside, I call my landlord, my voice shaking with barely contained rage.

“Hey, I need to break my lease,” I say, cutting straight to the point. “My psycho ex found me. My place was trashed.”

“Jesus, Aurora, I’m so sorry,” he says, genuine concern in his voice. “I understand. We’ll sort everything out. Stay safe, alright?”

“Thanks, I will.” I hang up, tossing my phone onto the bed. I sink beside it, feeling utterly exhausted and defeated. But there’s still that fire burning inside me, a relentless determination not to let him win.

“Fuck this,” I mutter, fumbling for my laptop on the nightstand. I need a distraction, something to take my mind off the shitstorm that’s become my life.

I boot it up and log into my personal email. It’s practically a ghost town in there—no one should have this address, and I rarely get any spam. So, when I see a new message, my heart skips a beat. The sender’s name is Angel, and I don’t recognise the email address.

“Who the fuck are you?” I growl under my breath, clicking on the message with trepidation. My eyes widen as I read its contents.

“Hey, Aurora,” the email begins. “Just forwarding Felix Greyson’s contact info to you for future use. Cheers, Angel.”

“Future use? What the fuck does that mean?” I murmur, bewildered. The email lists Felix’s mobile number, his home address, full name, and even his goddamn date of birth. How the hell does this person have all this information on him? And why would he give it to me?

“Jesus Christ, this just keeps getting weirder,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. My mind races with questions. Who is Felix, really? And who the fuck is Angel?

“Okay, so what do I do?” I ask myself, my resolve wavering. My gut tells me to reach out to Felix, but my brain screams that it’s a bad idea. ‘Trust nobody’ has been my mantra for years, and now some stranger wants me to contact him.

Fuck it . I finally decide, punching in Felix’s number on my phone. Let’s see what this bastard has to say for himself.

As the phone rings, I clench my jaw, bracing myself for whatever comes next. And deep down, I know there’s no turning back.

“Hello?” A deep, velvety voice answers. Jesus Christ, even his voice is hot.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound tough despite the tremor in my voice. “It’s Aurora. The chick from the restaurant.”

“Ah, Aurora. I’ve been expecting your call.” His words send chills down my spine, making me wonder how the fuck he knew I’d call him.

“Cut the crap,” I snap, anger flaring up inside me. “Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck is Angel? And how the hell did you get my email?”

“Easy there, darling.” He chuckles through the phone. “I’ll answer your questions, but first, let’s talk about why you called me.”

As I come to a halt, I pause for a moment and allow my thoughts to wander. Why did I feel the need to reach out to him? The words hang in the air, waiting for me to grasp them. “To be honest…” I finally reply, “… I’m not entirely sure.”