Symphony of Light and Winter Read Online Free

too much. “Oh, Cyri—”
    A loud female gasp stunned me. Margie, the orchestra assistant, stood with her mouth gaping at finding me nearly naked and pressed against the wall by a commanding stranger. It didn’t help that Margie had the well-earned title of office gossip.
    He peeled away and turned me to help right my clothes, positioning himself between Margie and me as if to shield my modesty. I tried to steady my breathing. Slapping his hands away, I peered around him to glare at Margie, who remained frozen in place. I tucked in my breasts, pulled down my skirt, cleared my throat, and attempted to speak through gritted teeth. “Something you need, Margie?”
    “Oh… No. Sorry, Linden.” She headed for a stall. Wait. She wasn’t leaving? Bitch!
    His disheveled appearance, accentuated by a light coat of sweat and a large wet spot on his right knee, made my breath catch. His pupils dilated and his breathing labored as he stared back with eyes ringed in sapphire.
    I blushed and shook my head to dislodge the lust. I stared at him and whispered, “I guess you’re going to have to kill me quietly or increase the body count?”
    His gaze raked over my body before he bent to place a light kiss on the top of my head. Searching my face for a moment, his lips pulled at the edges in a wicked smile.
    He bent, speaking close to my ear in an overly formal tone. “Mrs. Green, nice to make your acquaintance. It certainly has been a pleasure meeting you. Good evening.” He turned and left, his departure a blur.
    Too stunned to follow, I stood transfixed.
    Margie vacated the stall, pushing past my motionless form, and began to wash her hands. I wanted to slap her and thank her at the same time. Exiting the restroom, she appeared rattled, but the smirk didn’t go unnoticed.
    Standing still, trying to gather my wits, my body trembled from overstimulation and fear. So much deserved contemplation, but my mind kept repeating the same words over and over again.
    What the fuck?
     

Chapter Two
     
    Aftermath
     
     
    The mental haze surrounding me proved thick and dense. I didn’t remember getting into the car, or the drive home. So preoccupied. My five-year old Pontiac felt like a refuge from the evening’s events.
    Not sure why my mind chose that moment to crumble, but as I opened the door, the crisp night air whisked in, and my last remnants of strength shattered. Tears began to flow as I faced my new reality.
    He was alive. Not a dream—had never been a dream.
    My vision clouded. I walked up the stairs from the street lined with elegant, oversize Victorian mansions dating back to the turn of the twentieth century, to my small, first-floor apartment. The peeling paint I asked the landlord to fix three months ago no longer screamed at me. It was a shame he continued to let the maintenance on the beautiful old home slip, but I had bigger problems.
    After closing the door, I took a deep, cleansing breath and began my ritual. I removed my coat, hung it on the door, and tossed my keys into the wooden bowl I had carved in high school shop class. Lastly, I switched on the Bose music system that sat on a table just inside the door. Chopin’s Impromptu filled the air.
    Tears streamed down my face as I paused on the way to the kitchen to stare at the painting above my sofa. The soothing colors couldn’t penetrate my mood. I opened the refrigerator and grabbed the bottle of red wine I opened two days prior but never finished. Normally I drank red wine at room temperature, but I had no desire to wait for the soothing elixir to warm.
    Resting my elbows on the counter with the glass in hand, I sobbed. Tears dripped from my chin, making ripples in the wine as they fell one by one. My life resembled the disruptive waves the salty droplets made on the smooth surface. Neither the wakes nor the tears should exist.
    A sensation, much like free fall, permeated my chest. Standing, I took a gulp of wine and made my way to the bathroom. The reflection