The oil crackles in the pan as I rub the sleep from my eyes.Something’s off in here. Is it the knife stand?I move it two inches to the right and shake my head. Then I move it three inches to the left and let out a relieved breath. Even though I worked from home yesterday, Alex and I avoided each other. Other than our run-in in the kitchen, I only got a brief glimpse of her after dinner. She was wearing one of the dresses I chose, one that made me want to take a closer look. As a grown man fully in charge of himself, I stayed rooted in place, not wanting to share my desperation with her. I open the second drawer to grab a spatula, but it’s not inside. My brows furrowed, I check the dishwasher but come up empty. Finally, I find it in the first drawer, where it doesn’t belong, and gently stir the eggs. The scent of coffee invades my senses as I press the cup to my lips, hoping for it to wake me the fuck up.
Sleep has evaded me the whole night. Knowing she’s only a couple of doors down — sleeping in the pajamas I bought her — made my heart beat a steady rhythm, one too excited for sleep. I’ve tossed and turned and tried to rationalize the effect she has on me. Is she seriously that good at her job, whatever that is? So good thatshe had me wrapped around her finger in the short few weeks we spent with each other. Why can’t I put her into a little box titled “Enemies” and forget about her, like I do with everything else in my life?
It was hard enough to hate her before, even though she fully broke my trust, but now that I know what she’s been through? It’s impossible.
I blame my father.
For a man in his career, he was undoubtedly a hopeless romantic. My mother died when I was only three years old, but he never stopped loving her. He spoke about her and what she loved, making sure he honored her for the rest of his life. Realizing I forgot the eggs, I twist off the heat, hoping I haven’t dried them out.
It wasn’t just our mother. He was as loyal as they come and respectful of everyone in his life. If he would’ve heard about what happened to Alex, he would’ve protected her, too.
I plate the eggs, letting out a sigh. This trip down memory lane can do me no good. If I remember Father, I’ll remember he died. I’ll remember that Luka tried to honor him, and I almost sullied it all by playing nice with our uncle. I’ll remember that Luka is missing. If I hadn’t forced things my way, maybe things would have played out differently.
My phone vibrates, and I flinch. Relief floods me when I see it’s just the doorman.
“Mr. Petrovic, the packages you ordered were just delivered. You want me to bring them up for you?”
Packages? What packages? “Don’t touch it. I’ll be right there.” As far as I know, it could be explosives. After all the shit we’ve put them through, it wouldn’t come as a shock if the Russians try to blow me up.
The elevator pings just before I step out of it. There’s a pile of different-sized packages in front of the security desk.
“Who brought them?” I ask, eyeing the pile suspiciously.
“Just a delivery guy. I made a note of his employee ID, following the protocol, but nothing was out of the ordinary. I thought after yesterday, you just continued with your shopping spree.”
Like all my employees, he’s trained in the safety protocols we have in place, but I see his point. I check the shipping label on the tallest package. My name is written at the top, and the label seems legit. I slip my phone out of my pocket and open my mobile banking app to go through transactions. There they are.
All the orders were placed yesterday before noon, one after the other and they obviously included using my credit card. For a second, I contemplate credit card fraud before I remember the tiny detail of who possesses a copy.
“Get these up, will you?” I tell him, and he brings a cart out, loads the packages onto it and rolls the whole thing into the elevator. He steps in after, but I stop him. “I have it from here, thank you.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
During the ride up, I check my previous transactions, and, at a quick glance, I’d say she never used the card before. She was on a run, so it makes sense that she wouldn’t use a card, let alonemycard. But she hasn’t used it before, either. Not until yesterday.
I roll the cart into the apartment only to find Alex staring at the door, flustered. “Oh, you’re here.”
“I am. Seems like someone ordered a bunch of stuff on my card. It must be a mix-up of some sort.” I gesture my head to the pile of packages.
“How strange.” She quickly turns toward the counter, busying herself with picking the plate up.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“How would I know anything about it?” she murmurs, stuffing her mouth with food.
“Just asking. Let’s see what we have here. Maybe there are some clues inside.”
She peeks over her shoulder, and a smirk pulls at my lips. She’s a terrible liar.
Grabbing a pocketknife from my key stand, I cut into the first package. “Hmm. A phone.” It’s the latest model, with all the bells and whistles. “Good choice. What’s this?” I open a package containing a perfume. By the French spelling, I’d say the perfume is pretty expensive. The next package is obviously a pair of shoes. “This person has taste.” I dangle a black Louboutin from my finger. Alex is still acting uninterested, barely glancing at me, but I see the grin she’s trying to hide. Blood rushes south as I imagine her in the sky-high stilettos, and I drop the shoe back in the box. The next package only makes my problem worse. It’s a gorgeous royal-blue lingerie set. It feels filthy even running my fingers over it. “I’m not sure this is my size, but I’ll try it on.” I try to play it off as a joke, because my pants are growing tighter and I need to break this tension.
A small chortle escapes her, making me smile.
My smile drops as I open the next package. It’s a bright pink rabbit vibrator. The game turns from playful to dangerous. I quickly drop it to the side and open the next one. A twelve-inch skin-colored dildo. It would look almost realistic if not for the size. I’m big, but this is…wow.
I stare at the monstrosity in my hands when Alex howls with laughter. “Fine.” She turns her torso toward me, slapping her thigh while she struggles to catch a breath. “It was me. I ordered it.”
I shake my head, but something in my chest pinches at the sight of her laughing. “Should I continue opening these?” I gesture to the rest of the pile.
