Page 26 of Lilies from Hell

“Don’t throw that there. Don’t you have a bin? Or an ashtray?” His sudden closeness keeps my muscles tense, but my state of alarm doesn’t last long because my attention is drawn to his well-defined abdominal muscles.

The playful snort, laden with irony, that he lets out afterwards makes me focus on his face again. Is that a piercing on his tongue? It should be illegal to pierce a tongue as beauti— I mean, it’s not right. My aunt says piercings are the devil’s work.

“What do you want from me, Lena?” he pronounces my name in a strange way that I don’t like because of the feelings it should not cause in me.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You haven’t stopped looking for me since you arrived, and you’re always staring at me. Do you think I don’t notice?” My cheeks flush intensely. Instead of answering, I prefer to let him crush my heart once and for all.

“Why do you dislike me so much?” My voice is lower than I intended, but from his sharp smile, I know he heard me.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Why do birds fly?”

“It’s what they do,” I say with a frown. I don’t know. That’s not even a bloody answer. He’s just being a prick. “And you’re lying. I haven’t looked for you or even glanced at you once,” I add, as if saying that will save my lost dignity, knowing full well it won’t.

His hoarse laughter is music to my ears, not to mention his perfect white teeth he always hides behind his grumpy hitman face.

“You are very shameless, Lena. Someday that sassy mouth of yours will get you into trouble.” He has already disappeared without a trace by the time I try to defend myself against his accusations.

When I get home, I lock myself in my room and call Grace to vent and tell her everything that happened. She picks up on it with that peculiar sparkle she gets whenever I have some gossip for her.

“He’s so rude. I will not be nice to him anymore. Never again.”

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. It’s not like he’s known for his bright smile or his charisma,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone, without losing her smile.

“I know, but he crossed the line. What the hell is wrong with his head?”

“It depends on which head we’re talking about.” She raises her eyebrows.

“Grace, thinking about him that way is the last thing I want to do right now.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just that I can’t stop imagining how he looks now after your detailed description of his body.”

“His physique doesn’t matter if he’s a horrible person on the inside.”

“You’re right. It’s like that delicious chocolate that you know you can’t eat because you’ll get a thousand pimples afterwards. Although in your case it would be a white chocolate filled with vodka.” I can’t help but laugh out loud at her bad joke.

When it’s late at night, I say goodbye to her and hang up the phone. On the nightstand next to my bed, there is now a small black box. When I open it, I find a rather strange ring. My eyes shine like the ruby carved in the shape of a skull as I memorize every detail. There is a small diamond embedded in the forehead, very similar to the ones surrounding the ring.

Getting free jewelry as if it were the Tooth Fairy doesn’t seem like such a bad idea to me. Especially after the day I’ve had today. Maybe I’ll sell it and use the money for a brainwashing.

11

I unlock my phone and take another spoonful of whole-grain cereal, checking the notification bar first. Nothing. Empty. I’ve been waiting all morning for a reply from a guy I met on Facebook confirming our date today.

It’s another one of my techniques to exorcise him from my head. To focus on other people and realize that there are many men who are also handsome, with attractive bodies and clean hands, but it’s not working. I always find some flaw in the potential candidate. Too tanned or too pale, not enough tattoos or too much ink. With every profile I rejected, my conviction about his beauty being unfairly beautiful became stronger.

The more attractive, the more of an arsehole the man is. And he is pretty bloody handsome. I could swear right now Satan is smiling placidly on his throne, proud of his diabolical masterpiece.

Soon the butler enters the room to look over the fireplace and cleans it with a feather duster. We already have people who do that, but his boredom must be terrible.

“Good morning,” I say with the bowl on my lap.

“Good morning.”

I turn my attention back to him as I remember the bouquet of dried roses and golden stems that have been arriving daily. I still know nothing about the sender, and the situation is making me nervous. I’ve talked to Liam, but he always denies it. At first, I didn’t believe him, but it’s true that he doesn’t have a lot of money, and he’s never been one for thoughtful gestures.

“Do you know anything about the flowers?” I ask.