While They Watch

by Khloe Summers

  Matteo had been calling and texting since ten minutes after I left the table in San Francisco. Most of the day, I’d kept my phone off—I didn’t want to deal with whatever nonsense he was going to fill my head with. Though when I turned the phone back on, his tone was more concern for my safety than anything.

  Matteo: How do I know you haven’t been kidnapped?

  Me: Is that a common thing, people being kidnapped? I just need space.

  Matteo: What? Space? Why? You shouldn’t have left without telling me.

  Fury crawled into my throat, causing my fingers to type faster.

  Me: Sorry but I can go wherever the hell I want.

  Matteo: You know what I meant! Why are you being so weird? Where are you?

  Me: I’m in Reno.

  Matteo: Reno! Where in Reno? Why? Why did you leave?

  Me: In a motel.

  Matteo: Just go back to the house. The code is 4893. You can explain why you’re being so difficult when I get there.

  Me: No, thanks. I can manage on my own.

  The phone rang. I wanted to answer, let him fix all my problems. I really did. My life had been perfect, filled with exciting adventures, exotic sex, and the man of my dreams. But was any of that real?

  Matteo: Will you pick up the phone? I want to talk.

  Me: No! I need time to think.

  Matteo: You can think with me next to you. I’m leaving now. I’ll knock on every motel room door in Reno until you answer.

  Me: I’ll meet you for a walk tomorrow, near Willow Lane past the wild horse marker. Just give me tonight.

  Moments went by with no response, and I wondered if I’d blown it. Wondered if he’d figured out he was too good for me, figured out I’d never been his Cinderella.

  Matteo: I’ll be there at 7 AM. That gives you eight hours of sleep. So, rest up.

  Matteo: I miss you.

  I missed him too, but I didn’t answer, suddenly afraid of what missing him meant. For the first time in my life, I fell asleep alone, no one by my side to roll into, no one to call in from another room. It was only me. Me, and the perpetual ache of my heart as I drifted off to sleep. Me, and my rattling brain, questioning every move I’d ever made. Me, wondering if I was sabotaging myself, because somewhere deep down, I didn’t think I deserved Matteo.

  I stepped out of the Uber onto Willow Lane at 7:02 AM. Matteo’s black Escalade, already waiting. He was wearing tight jeans and a white collared shirt, with a navy blazer. His eyes narrow, his lips pressed together.

  He greeted me with a long warm kiss on the forehead. “Why are we here?”

  I twisted my arms together in front of my body, unsure of where to put them, “I used to live up here when I was a kid. The house is considered condemned now, but I wanted to show you.”

  We walked up the worn path through the barren field of sagebrush and wild horses—keeping our distance as they grazed with their foals.

  “You had to walk through this to get to your house?” he asked, swerving to avoid sagebrush.

  “No, you can take the road up from Kettle Avenue, but this is faster, and the walk is nice.” I moved ahead of him slightly. “You know, I’ve never much cared what people had, or what clothes they wore.”

  He tilted his head, “Ok?”

  I’d already opened my mouth, so I kept going—Ignoring how insecure and pathetic this was all making me sound.

  “Your friends yesterday, I heard them. I heard them say I was after your money. I heard them ask you ‘where you found me,’ as though I was a wreck you’d dragged in on a bet.” Embarrassment turned my pale skin pink as I realized how dumb this all sounded.

  “Did you also hear what I said to them? Did you notice that right after he said that I got up and left? No, you didn’t. Because you were already gone.” He was frustrated now, his eyebrows squeezed together, his full lips tight.

  The worst part, he was right. I shouldn’t have left. I should have gone back to that table and been the woman I wanted to be for Matteo.

  He stopped his stride, reaching for my hand, pulling me back and into his space. “Those guys are fake. Those women are fake. You are real, and you’re all I want.”

  I avoided eye contact and continued to walk, listening to the tiny grains of sand beneath my feet pop with each step.

  “You know, I can’t be a $10,000 dress kind of girl. That’s why I brought you here. To show you where my heart began.”

  At first sight of the house, he was silent—letting my words hang in the air as the forest pulled the curtain on my childhood home. Now, a haunting ruin beneath a grove of ponderosa pine and large glacial boulders.

  “This is my happy place,” I said, hiding a tear that was beginning to peak. “It went into foreclosure shortly after my parents died. The bank figured it wasn’t worth much, I guess.” I looked back at Matteo, still quiet, looking intently at the small, ancient cottage that grew me. Its whitewashed clapboard now covered in moss, cracking under the pressure of time. I climbed up onto the front porch and pushed at the tall wooden door. I knew it would open because I’d been there nearly every week since they’d passed.

  On the door, a salmon splashing in the river. “My father carved it himself. You can see all the mistakes, he complained about it each time he opened it, but mom loved having something he’d made.”

  Matteo hesitantly followed, ducking as he walked, as though a beam may fall at any moment. The house was dark, lit only by my cell phone and small rays that shot in through cracks in the roof. A musty odor of damp pine and mold circled us as we explored.

  I tread towards the stone fireplace, “It’s as it always was, wilder now, but the same.” Above the firebox, a cut log mantle and a photo of the three of us still hanging as the centerpiece. “I was eighteen then. Mom updated it every year. She said she liked to see a picture of us the way we are, not the way we were. Cause life is about the present—not the past.”

  For a moment, I thought of my mother, so beautiful and strong. My parents had always been together and had mutual input. Though, she was left alone with the daily task of parenthood while my dad went off to work, shifting her hats between wife, mother, woman. I turned to Matteo, holding back emotion. “It’s funny. How you look back on the lives of your parents and realize they were people too, trying to figure it all out.”

  He nodded his head and placed his hand on my back, acknowledging the sentiment. Still, he hadn’t spoken.

  We continued, moving through the house. An eerie feeling poured over me as we stepped into my small unkempt room. Kitten posters peeling and molded, a neon splashed comforter still thrown wildly on the twin bed, a stereo with cd player, Madonna still sitting on the dock ready to play. I thought of mom calling me to dinner, shouting past the noise of the boom box.

  “I needed you to see where I came from, see that I’m just a girl from a small house on the west side of Virginia City. Whose family ate local fish because that’s all we could afford and wore clothes that were sewn and repurposed from curtains.” I looked up at Matteo with wide eyes. “A girl that doesn’t know what it means to be rich and famous, that wouldn’t know what to do with a billion dollars if I had it. A girl that’s been broken by loss and shitty men. A girl that’s trying to overcome all this shit, but isn’t quite there yet.”

  I quietly spoke, feeling surer of what I’d been meaning to say all along, as though being in the withering house cleared my thoughts. “I can figure my life out on my own, without billions of dollars.”

  I pulled a grimy, wooden chair from the oak dining set and slumped into it, trusting that despite its condition, it would hold me. Matteo pulled another, dropping his large body onto the decaying wood. Years of dust and mold stirred around us as he stared into the kitchen.

  I turned towards him with straight lips, “What’s wrong?”

  He paused, and tilted his head to the left, leaning in towards me, his large warm eyes like safety from a storm.

 
“I think I love you. No. I know I love you.” He lifted his hand and brushed my cheek with the back of his fingers, carefully gathering my tears as they fell. “I’m so glad you shared this with me.” His tone was kind and comforting. His face, somehow reflective and glowing.

  Tears streamed down onto my skin in uncontrollable droplets of happiness and uncertainty. “You are my Bella, my kind, passionate, strong, and loving Bella. Also, a bit awkward, easily enraged, extremely emotional, and quick to leave. And I want it all. Every real, down to Earth, gorgeous, part of you."

  I wanted to answer him with a burst of wide-eyed excitement, stand up, and swallow him in my arms. Instead, I sat in the chair, looking blank—unable to move and pursue his advance. I’d been fucking him like a wild monkey. I’d been lusting after his hard-toned body. I’d been sharing in quiet moments, listening to secrets, caring for him in a way I’d never cared for anyone. Now though, at this moment, I froze—unable to process. I stood and walked into the kitchen. The pan still on the stove from dinner the night they died.

  “We’d had grilled cheese that night,” I wept. “Grilled cheese and tater tots. We didn’t have ketchup. Mom was going out to get some, and Dad decided to ride along, leaving me to the cooking. I was almost eighteen. I could handle the food. Except, it was storming, and the mountain is winding,” I continued, Matteo now standing at my side. “A tractor-trailer swerved and hit the car, Mom lost control, and they flew into oncoming traffic. The paramedics said they died instantly. All for ketchup. I needed fucking ketchup, but I was afraid to drive in the rain.”

  Matteo turned to me, placing both hands on my arms. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known…”

  I let ugly green drainage fill my face, “I don’t think I’ve loved since then. I think Daniel was a band-aid. Someone who took advantage of how weak I was, but looking back, I never loved him. Maybe he sensed that maybe that’s why he…” I let the words fall, stopping in my tracks. “Really, it wasn’t until you came around that I started seeing color again,”

  Matteo gripped my shoulders softly and looked me straight in the eyes, “You didn’t deserve what he did to you.”

  Embarrassment overcame me, there had been so much love pouring from his lips, and I was still fixated on my dead parents and Daniel. Thankfully, a mouse scurried across the counter behind us, offering the chance to leave.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I need to find my own place,” I announced, on the ride back to Matteo’s.

  He yawned, still tired from his early morning flight. “I have plenty of room, we’ve had this discussion. What’s the point?” Stop feeling guilty.” I could see his patience was wearing thin on the topic, and, technically he was right. We were having sex, sleeping, and eating together. It would be pointless to go backward.

  “I need to prove I can do this by myself,” I emphasized, leaning onto his shoulder. “I want to know I have a place to go if you get sick of me.”

  He rubbed his eyes and yawned again, “You’re overthinking it all again. Let’s take it how it comes.” Exhaustion took over him as he leaned his strong shoulders onto my lap—closing his eyes as I ran my fingers through his thick black hair. Maybe he was right. Maybe I should stop thinking so much, let my heart take me wherever I’m meant to be.

  We took the day to relax, napping the day away, cuddled in white hammocks that lay swinging into the wind under whistling pines—waking only long enough to eat and drink. Then, falling victim again to the sun and the breeze, rocking us in perfect rhythm with nature.

  By late evening, we’d both had more relaxing than we could take, and were feeling antsy.

  “Quick swim?” I asked, standing in front of the pink setting sun.

  “Sure! But first…” He reached behind me, pulling at the string of my white bikini, successfully untying the loose knot with one pull.

  I held up the fabric, suddenly shy to his advances. “You first…”

  “No way!” he smirked, firmly yanking at my bottom, pulling the white thong to the ground. Giving in, I let the top drop as well—revealing everything I’d already given him. A familiar package, he couldn’t wait to keep unwrapping.

  He stripped, and we ran towards the water on warm tan sand, hand in hand, naked in the wind, allowing the serene mountain lake to cleanse our bodies.

  “This is fucking cold,” he said, wrapping his arms around me as though he needed body heat. Wet hard nipples grazed chests, as we stood waist-deep clinging for warmth.

  I splashed at him playfully, then began to swim away, “Let’s keep moving. I’ll race you to the dock and back!”

  He chased me, swimming past in near moments, leaving me in his wake.

  Finishing my doggy paddle to his side, I nudged him breathlessly, “I forgot you swam every morning.”

  He kept direct eye contact and pulled his athletic shoulders back playfully, “I guess you have to kiss me now, cause winners… you know.” His cock hung loosely at his waist, wavering in the water with the waves, softly touching my stomach as I wrapped myself in closer. Lifting my toes, I reached for his lips as he bending to meet mine. He took my bottom lip into his mouth before lifting me from the water, tossing me over his shoulders, ass up. Cold air caused goosebumps to jump from my wet body as he tread towards the shore—nibbling at my hips playfully in the shallows.

  Once he stepped onto the beach, he laid me on the soft wet sand, resting part of his body on mine as he fixated on my eyes, not saying a word. I stared back, allowing my heart to speak with his. We stayed like this for some time, tantrically relaxed, harmonizing our breath in sync with one another.

  The setting sun dipped behind the mountains until all we had for light was its radiance, casting shadows and darkness around us. Waves lapped in, rushing around our bodies, tugging with each blast of coolness. Leaning up, he straddled my body, his arms flexed at my side like a wild animal crawling out of the sea, ready to devour my flesh. He sucked down on each nipple, warming the purple spears with his tongue, tangling his fingers in my wet hair, kissing my neck with fever and purpose. With a rush of the tide, his dick slid inside, causing me to jump and moan in pleasure.

  “Oh, god!” I sighed, digging my hands into the sand. Lifting each hand slowly, I let the gritty earth disappear between my fingers before reaching up into Matteo’s tousled hair. He thrust harder, looking into my eyes. The kink of the bucket list was gone as we lost ourselves in the motion of the tide, thrashing in and out wildly against the sand, our bodies finding tempo with the landscape.

  “Please…please!” I whined, sounding like a young girl begging for candy. He lifted my legs into the air, pushing them against my chest. The damp smell of coconut sunscreen and oak scrub filled the air. He kneeled in front of my tunnel, thrusting with the power of his core, holding my ankles securely in place. He was deeper, tighter in this position. Blood rushed away from my head, pooling between my legs. He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes, his hard thickness causing me pain in the most pleasurable way.

  “God. Please,” I ached, whining again into the dusk.

  “Do it!” he demanded, his accent a sloppy trill within our pleasure. “Do it… come all over me.” Our vocalized pleasure chorused out onto the coast. I squeezed down on my pussy and formed around him, allowing the release to slide through my spine and into my hips.

  Freshwater continued to rush around us, heightening each sensation, causing a burst of tickles at the base of my neck. I growled out in pleasure, as Matteo tensed and released inside of me, slowing his motion to soak in the texture of my soft sponge against his sensitive cock. He pulled out and collapsed next to me, letting the cold water bury our fired nerves.

  I rolled into him, and we laid in the sand, consumed by each other, as though we were the only people left on the planet. Life had never been so good.

  The following morning, we woke early to have breakfast in the sunlight at the end of the dock. Fresh fruit and brioche with black tea. A lazy cl
assic.

  “Can I spill some black tea on you, sir? I mean pour,” Erik asked, shooting lighthearted eyes at Matteo.

  “Did that stain come out?” Matteo asked, tilting his head to the side.

  “No sir, not yet. I’ve sent it away though. This came for you, Ms. Hannah.” He handed me another envelope like the others.

  Matteo yanked the note from my hand, “Where’d you get this?”

  Erik stepped back, furrowing his brows, “It was on the doorstep this morning sir, at the east side.”

  “We have cameras over there, pull them up and email me the file,” Matteo said, now opening the envelope with my name typed on the front. He paused for a moment as he read the words. I stood behind him to read along.

  “You’ll regret this.”

  Print on plain paper. Nothing else. Cryptic and nonsensical. ‘You’ll regret this.’ Nothing made sense. Daniel didn’t work like this. He was aggressive and in your face. He wasn’t methodical and mysterious. A buzz rang from Matteo’s phone.

  “It’s the surveillance video.”

  A man fitting Daniel’s body type wearing a wolf mask, jeans, and a hoodie dropped the envelope at 12:09 AM after we’d come in for the night.

  “That looks like him doesn’t it?” Matteo asked, his eyes bloodshot with fury.

  “Yes… No! I don’t know. It’s hard to tell,” I mumbled, anxiously pacing. “I’m pretty sure.”

  “I’ll get some people together to scare the hell out of him. This is stopping. And we’ll get more security around the docks. He must have come in on a boat. The alarm would have sounded through the front.” He was now pacing with me.

  My heart lurched into my throat as I tried to make sense of all that was happening. Three notes now. All increasingly aggressive. Yet, nothing had happened.

  I looked back towards Matteo, with narrowed eyes, my nose slightly crinkled, “It has to be Daniel, there’s no one else.”