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eleanorbloom · 8 months

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I loved this so much!!! Your writing is so beautiful. That first paragraph left me speechless. So beautifully written and so poetic it made me kinda emotional. I've been living in autopilot these last few weeks, so feeling deep emotions over art makes me feel alive again!

Trystan being a fire and Carolina wanting to close the door, my gosh. Yes! What a beautiful way to put it.

I laughed so hard with the penny for your thoughts bit and the ATM retort lmaooo the banter is chef's kiss.

Aaah, I'm so happy I was able to read at least one fic of yours! I've been wanting to read them for weeks, but there was always something stopping me to have the quiet time to do it, but today is a religious holiday in my country so I finally managed to do it, and what a surprise this was 💕

Thank you for sharing this piece with us, truly gorgeous writing!

Better this way...

Book: Crimes of Passion (Book 1)

Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose)

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: Mentions of death/loss

Category: Angsty Fluff??? / Pining.

Summary: Alone in the office after a long day, Trystan and Carolina can only think of each other - if only the other knew.

Words: 2.3k

A/N: OK, it's my first time writing for these two! I hope it's somewhat decent. (It was supposed to be a drabble, but you know, shit happened. lol ) @choicesjunechallenge, Romance I'm tagging my PERMA list - if you'd like to be added or removed for CoP fics, please let me know.

He studied her carefully, observing her the way a connoisseur takes in a priceless piece of art they know they'll never see again. He committed every line, contour, every gentle curve of her face to memory and did his best to conceal the grin attempting to travel from his heart to his lips. He almost succeeded. Almost. With a slight twitch, the corners of his mouth turned upward, and he had to laugh to himself. He should have known better; emotions this strong can’t be contained. Not even by a man who had become a master of presenting a façade to the world.

She wore a worried expression while pouring over the papers scattered atop her desk. Jaw set, brow furrowed, that little crease that formed above her nose whenever she was troubled prominent. Carolina Rose had perfected her poker face for her job, but not when she was off the clock. At those times, the people who knew her best could read her like a book, and while Trystan Thorne wasn't yet a member of that privileged circle, he was doing all he could to get in... and he was a quick study.

Many small details that provided a glimpse into her soul had already been memorized, and marveled over how even the slightest variance could morph her into a different being. The woman across the room from him bore almost no resemblance to the one who rolled her eyes over his latest antics, pretending to be bothered, even as her expression so clearly told him the opposite was true. And those glorious moments when he earned her smile, perhaps a laugh… every trace of rigidity gone, her cheeks flushed with delight, and her eyes as bright as a child who had just been offered their favorite treat… he felt his breath escape him at the memory alone. Trystan was no stranger to this feeling welling inside of him; he had known it intimately before. When it left, it took a part of him with it. He knew he’d never feel that way again. Yet, here he was.

The papers made a fluttering sound as they fell from her hands and joined the others on the surface below. She looked to the ceiling with a sigh of frustration, eyes clenched, her long, slender fingers rubbing at her temples. He knew this wasn’t just a case for Carolina. Her Uncle Tommy had explained to him that none of them ever were. Each represented people… people who were hurting, people who had died, people she was working furiously to protect. Trystan wasn’t impressed with Carolina’s dedication and drive; he was in awe of it. The desire to do what was right, no matter the personal consequence; her ability to cut people down to size, to put him in his place with ease… she was one of a kind.

An undeniably beautiful woman, but beautiful women were a dime a dozen in his world, it took more than a pretty face to captivate his heart and awaken feelings he was certain died along with the only woman he had ever loved… but when he was with Carolina, he began coming back to life, and he was helpless to stop.

With his eyes glued on her, Carolina met his gaze the moment hers opened. A slight smirk came to her lips as the tension visibly escaped her body.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Protecting you,” he simpered, and there was that roll of her eyes.

He couldn’t blame her. They both knew she could more than fend for herself. She didn’t need a playboy prince standing guard over her. Still, she never sent him away whenever he offered to stay behind.

“Coffee?” He asked, more of a statement than a question, as he was already preparing her cup.

“Sure. You might as well make yourself useful while you’re here.”

She raised her hands to her stiff shoulders, gently massaging them as her weary eyes followed his movements. Trystan hadn’t impressed her at first. A fact that she knew left him astounded. He was charming and handsome, ridiculously so; she’d have to be blind not to see that, especially since he was donning no more than an Egyptian cotton towel around his waist upon their unplanned meeting. But wealthy exiled princes were not to her taste. A cocky, wealthy exiled prince, even less so.

Trystan liked to pretend he knew more than he did, so Carolina watched him with intent. There was no way he knew how she took her coffee, and she was eager to pounce on him… figuratively, of course, when he inevitably failed. That would be the catalyst to commence the back-and-forth banter that had quickly defined them.

So she watched and waited. He filled her mug three-fourths full, pouring fat-free Lactaid milk to fill the remaining space. Carolina wasn’t lactose intolerant; she simply preferred the flavor, and Trystan had taken note. Her coy smile was growing into a wide grin when he began stirring. No sweetener. She knew he’d get it wrong and was eager to start the repartee… when he poured three packets of Splenda and one of Equal into her cup. The ball was firmly in his court now as evidenced by the look of astonishment on her face.

“Something wrong?” he purred with delight.

“No..uh… it’s just… how did you know how I take my coffee?”

He fell back into his chair and gently shrugged. “It’s not the first time we’ve had coffee together, Carolina.”

“No,” she agreed. “But it’s the first time you’ve prepared my cup, and….”

“…and I pay attention,” he interrupted, the velvety tone of his voice doing things she wouldn’t readily admit.

“Quick! How does Luke take his?”

Trystan bit his lower lip as he strained to remember, a blush that made Carolina warm inside appearing on his cheeks.

“In a cup?” he deadpanned.

Carolina burst into a fit of giggles and raised her cup to her mouth, eager to watch him try to spin his way out of this web.

“I pay attention…sometimes,” he said, clearing his throat. “I pay attention when it matters.”

“And my coffee preferences… matter?”

“They are of the utmost importance,” he smiled.

“But Luke’s… are not?”

“Of course they are… to him, but to me… he can text me what he wants if I pick coffee up one day.”

Now it was Carolina blushing, cursing her body for giving her away so easily.

“It makes sense,” she shrugged. “I suppose it’s wise to be on your boss's good side.”

“My boss?” he challenged. “I hired your agency. There is a valid argument to be made that I am, in fact, your boss…but,” he emphasized, holding up a finger when she dared to interrupt. “But since both scenarios would make for delightful role-playing… I’m not going to argue the point.”

A bark of laughter escaped her. By now, she knew he was a relentless flirt, but the way her pulse raced at his words… if that had happened before, she must have been in denial, but there was no sidestepping it now.

“In your dreams, Thorne.”

“Trust,” he winked. “You are.”

He waited for the witty retort that never came. Instead, Carolina looked away, flustered and a bit ashamed. She was always fast on her feet and had a sharp comeback at the ready…but this no longer felt like a game, and retorts were the last place her mind was going.

“Well, uhm…” she cleared her throat. “I really appreciate your… initiative. It’s very… sweet.”

He glanced up playfully from under the hair falling onto his face. “Just like your coffee,” he grinned impishly.

Her hands fumbled along her desk until she found her cup. Grasping it like a life preserver, she took a long drink, almost emptying its contents. Anything to delay her response while she processed the places her mind and body were taking her. She was falling, falling fast, and while she knew Trystan would catch her, that thought was even more terrifying. She was not familiar with these emotions, even though she was sure she knew what they were. She had loved, of course. Love was the guiding motivation in her life. She loved her Uncle Tommy. She loved her late Father with all her heart. How it would have broken him to know the impact his death had left on his little girl.

It lived forever in her mind… the damp, dark garage… his lifeless body on the ground… his blood soaking her clothes, its smell permeating the air… the garbled sounds as he attempted to speak his last words… she remembered it all. Collapsing over his casket on that cold, grey morning. Uncle Tommy pushing his grief aside to support her. He probably carried her back to the car, she couldn’t recall… but the ride home was forever etched in her mind. One thing filled her mind as she watched the cityscape speeding by. Love hurt. Love meant loss and pain; she had to protect herself from feeling this again. She couldn’t stop loving the people already in her life, but she was not allowing others in. By the time guests began to arrive at Tommy’s bar for the repast, Carolina had already wrapped her heart and placed it in a vault in the furthest corner of her home. She locked it and tossed away the key. Her unconscious vow was made. She would never let herself feel this again.

There had been men in her life, but they hadn’t been a problem. She knew they couldn’t get too close; if they did, she let them go. She learned how to dance around the fire without allowing herself to get burned. But with Trystan, everything was different. He was the fire, consuming her each time he entered the room. If she opened that door to him, there was no question that the flames would engulf her, and there would be no escape. So there was no question… that door had to stay closed.

“Carolina,” he said, the sincere concern in his tone touching her heart. “Are you all right? A penny for your thoughts?”

He waited patiently, knowing something was amiss. Carolina Rose didn’t stumble. She didn’t fluster easily. She had to be… thinking… could he dare to believe she may have been thinking the same thing as him? He wanted to know… but sensing her trepidation… he waited until she was ready.

I think I’m frightened. I think I’m falling for you, Trystan Thorne. I’m falling hard. I can usually stop this, I stop myself, but with you… I can’t. You! Of all people! Your head will grow another five sizes if I tell you this, and we can’t have that. But I am… I am falling for you… and I don’t know what to do to make it stop.

Those were the words repeating in her mind as silence filled the air. But when her quivering lips finally formed words, this was nothing she could bring herself to say.

“A penny?” she scoffed. “With all your money, my thoughts are worth no more than a penny? Trystan Thorne, I’m insulted… and you’re out of luck… because my thoughts are far more valuable than that!”

Was it possible for two opposing feelings to wash over you at once? Trystan could now confidently tell you the answer was yes. Her response left him crestfallen, his hopes dashed, and it also left him… relieved. Sweet, utter relief dulled his senses for a moment.

“Then I’ll be sure to hit up the ATM before we do this again,” he jested, quickly pointing to the papers on her desk. “So… did you find anything there?”

Grateful for the opportunity to steer their conversation in a different direction, Carolina began rattling off what she had read. But Trystan never heard hear a word. All he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest and the words he hoped to hear echoing in his mind.

“Trystan? Trystan…” Carolina said, tossing a crumbled ball of paper his way. “Did you hear anything I said?

“Yes! Of course!” He startled. “But… just to be sure… why don’t you tell them to me again?”

Carolina rolled her eyes and repeated. Trystan hoped he wouldn’t be in trouble because he still couldn’t process a thing, as the relief he had felt just moments before morphed into profound disappointment. This is for the best, he told himself. After all, he had been in love before, and love was… magical… until… His eyes screwed shut, and there he was again. It was that night he wanted to erase from his memory but never lived more than a moment away. He swore he could smell the salt in the air and feel the waves shifting beneath him. Juliana was there, more beautiful than ever before; all was right with the world… until… his eyes shot open with renewed focus. Fortunately, Carolina was still speaking.

“So, the bottom line is, this didn’t give us any new leads, but it did place more suspicion on some we already had.”

“Then, it wasn’t time wasted,” he rebounded, not missing a beat. “I guess that leaves us with more work to do tomorrow. So, why don’t I give you a lift home now?”

“You know,” Carolina hesitated. “I’m going to hang back here a little. I’ll be all right. Why don’t you head out.”

Trystan nodded sadly. “If you insist, boss….I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He rushed to the door, taking one last look over his shoulder as his hand landed on the brass doorknob. Carolina had already begun typing away on her laptop, as focused on her work as ever. She was so beautiful, he thought, it would have been really nice if… no… he shook his head… no… it was better this way.

#crimes of passion #Trystan x Carolina

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