After a dangerous man saved me from a rapist and I touched myself until I passed out.
I won’t write that one of course. I’m not even sure I’d tell Mina. How can I justify that my mystery man made me come harder than I had in months without ever touching me, and that his murderous energy made it all the better?
I ignore the calls. I don’t need them screaming my ear off about safety and what not. Instead, I ignore everything and put a smile on my face, going through my day as if nothing happened. I shower—cold as ice—eat breakfast and decide to go for a short run through the Meadows. Might not be the best for hangover but the idea of rotting in bed all day with my family on my ass is worse.
Guilt gnaws at my gut so I knock on Gemma and Milosh’s door. They don’t answer. Shit, I must have gone a little too hard with the pills. I tell Dante to check on them via text.
He doesn’t berate me and that makes me breathe easier. It gets even better after the three miles I manage to run. Okay, fine, one of them was a brisk walk. It still counts. And my saving grace comes from my cousin telling me I won’t have bodyguards anymore, and to be on my toes and tell him if anything suspicious happens.
Ah! The only thing suspicious is the sensation of being followed that never quite seems to leave me lately, though it’s absent this morning as I run in circles, out of breath and regretting my choice of workout. I hate running, but maybe,just maybe, I was hoping he’d chase. I’m not about to admit to anyone that I was disappointed when he didn’t. Least of all myself. It could be someone really dangerous. Maybe that’s how the Moscow Bratva will get to us. Make me fall for a masked stalker who happens to be a murderer. They won’t need to kidnap me, I’ll walk straight into their arms.
Gosh, I’m stupid.
Yet, I still can’t shake the way the man made me feel safe in a world that has never felt like it. The only person that truly made me feel that way before was Toma. With his easy smiles and puppy eyes so at odds with his massive chest and arms that could probably rip anyone open with his strength alone.
After my run, I take a shower and decide to check in on Gemma and Milosh. Say goodbye. It wasn’t their fault I had to have bodyguards.
They still don’t answer and a creeping doubt floats through my head. It’s soon replaced with that same, well-known feeling of abandonment. I know it so well by now it’s like it’s part of me, not something I merely feel but something I am at my core. They didn’t say goodbye. Like everyone else. They left like I meant nothing. I was just a job, I know that. But it still hurts.
I swallow and get through the motions of studying, cleaning my place before I finally make it outside my home for a grocery run. I won’t be able to count on Gemma—if she was the one doing the groceries at all.
Sweaty and breathing hard, arms full with bags, I enter my home and gasp.
A single yellow sunflower has been added to the desiccating daisy that’s about to take its last breath. I can’t make myself throw it away yet. Next to it is a shaker bottle I’m certain I don’t own with a pink goo inside. I sniff it, suspicious, then see the note underneath it.
Drink. It’s good for recovery.
Oh my God. Is my stalker also going to be my nutrition coach? That’s fucked up. Yet, I have to tighten my lips together not to smile. My mood soars, warmth filling my chest and my whole body in a slow sweep.
I take a tentative sip. It’s pretty good. Strawberries and lemon, with a slight taste of banana and a sort of powder making it more thick.
I finish the thing in three minutes. It’s delicious, and it’s making me feel full and satiated. And weirdly happy.
My jaw opens and I blink slowly when I cross the threshold of my bedroom. The bed is made, my keychain primely placed on top of my pillow. My heart seems to have descended to the apex of my thighs, beating wildly.
Should I get a better lock?
I’m so confused by my body. How fear and arousal mingle like they’re best friends in my blood stream.
Irina would be so disappointed in me. She might have trained me to shoot a moving target, but my preservation instincts are non-existent.
As is my habit, helping me to remain a high-functioning adult, I park all those questions in that neat little box in my head. It’s a little overflowing at the moment, but I can’t afford to be distracted. Mid-terms are fast approaching and studying for this degree is all I have to separate myself from the life that was decided for me. I’m making something of myself and I won’t let a hot, masked stranger derail me from my goals.
****
Atext comes through when night has long fallen already. But it’s not from Mina, complaining about Benoit puking everywhere, or my family urging me to stay home and lock myself up.
Unknown
Go to bed, Lucie.
Oh shit.
It’s one thing to know my stalker visited my home, followed me around and killed someone for me. Another to see first hand that he can get anything on me, including my phone number. I know full well he’s not inside my flat but I look around, eyes widelike a deer in the headlights. A cold sweat gathers at my hairline, fear and arousal mixing together again in that heady cocktail, making me reckless. I swallow hard and stare at my phone.
He’s so bossy. I want to huff with indignation but I’m soaking my knickers. If he were here, there’s no telling if I’d run to try to escape, praying he’d catch me, or if I’d fall to my knees, ready to be bossed around.
Both?
