My grip tightens on my beer glass. “He has,” I say with certainty. “Maybe not recently, but he has. She sleeps in her library. Pushes a chair against the door. Who does that if they’re not afraid of someone in their home?”
Dillian nods slowly. “I had the same thought. Domestic violence cases are the worst, victims often refuse to press charges, go back to their abusers.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his beer. “But that doesn’t mean what you’re doing is right, Anthony. Breaking into her house, watching her, leaving gifts... That’s not how you help someone.”
“It’s working, though,” I insist. “You saw how she looked at me tonight. She knows it’s me, the man in the mask, the one from the bookstore. And she didn’t run. Didn’t scream. She’s curious.”
“Or terrified,” Dillian counters. “Maybe she’s just trying not to piss off another man who might hurt her.”
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Could that be it? Could Lila just be playing along out of fear? I thinkof that night on the steps, how she responded to my touch, the way she came apart beneath me. That wasn’t fear. That was desire, raw and real. But doubt creeps in anyway.
“I’d never hurt her,” I say, my voice low and fierce. “Never.”
“I believe you,” Dillian says, and I can tell he means it. “But does she know that? All she sees is a man who breaks into her house.”
I wince at his blunt assessment. “It wasn’t like that. She came at me with a knife. I was just trying to stop her from hurting herself when she slipped.”
Dillian’s eyebrows shoot up. “A knife? Jesus, Anthony. You didn’t mention that part before.” He shakes his head. “This is getting out of hand. What if she’d stabbed you? What if her husband had been home?”
“But he wasn’t,” I say stubbornly. “And she didn’t stab me. And now she knows who I am.”
“Does she, though? She knows you’re Mia’s brother. Does she know you’re the one who’s been watching her?”
I think back to the look on Lila’s face when our eyes met across the restaurant, the recognition that flashed there. “She knows now, she has to,” I say with certainty. “The way she looked at me... And she found the book I left in her car. I don't see how she wouldn't know.”
“And Mia?” Dillian asks, his voice gentler now. “Does she know what her brother’s been up to?”
I shake my head. “No. And I’d like to keep it that way, at least for now.”
“You don’t think she deserves to know that you’re stalking her friend?”
“I’m not—” I start to protest again, then stop, sighing. “Look, it’s complicated. Mia would freak out if she knew. She’d tell her, I need Lila to trust me first, to understand that I’m not the enemy.”
Dillian studies me, his cop instincts clearly at war with his loyalty as my friend. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” he says finally. “For both of you.”
“I know,” I admit. “But I can’t stop now. Not when I’m so close.”
“Close to what, exactly?” Dillian asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
I lean back, considering the question. What am I trying to accomplish here? What’s the endgame? “I want her to leave him,” I say finally. “I want her to be free. And then...” I trail off, the possibilities stretching out before me like a banquet.
“And then you want her for yourself,” Dillian finishes for me, no judgment in his voice now, just understanding.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I do.”
“Well,” Dillian says, raising his glass. “At least you’re honest about it.” He takes a drink, then sets the glass down with a thunk. “So what’s your next move? Now that she more or less knows who you are?”
I grin, already formulating a plan. “The Halloween masquerade at the club. Mia’s already invited Lila and Valerie. I’ll be there too.”
“Wearing your mask?” Dillian guesses.
“Of course,” I nod. “One last dance with the mysterious stranger before she fully connects the dots. Before we drop the pretense and see what happens next.”
“You’re enjoying this,” Dillian observes, something like wonder in his voice. “The cat and mouse of it all.”
“I am,” I confess, not bothering to hide my excitement. “And I think she is too. You should have seenher face when she found that book tonight. Shock, sure, but also... intrigue. Like she’s as curious about where this leads as I am.”
“Just be careful,” Dillian warns, the concern of a friend overtaking the professional skepticism of the cop. “With Eli, especially. If he’s as controlling as you say, if he has hurt her before... men like that don’t like having their possessions taken away.”
“Let him try something,” I say, a cold edge entering my voice. “I’m not exactly easy to intimidate.”
