The street out front’s busy as usual with the hustle and bustle of cabs in a hurry to get people to work on time. I don’t know what I expect to find by coming back outside, It’s not like he’d be parked in a car, waiting at the curb in front of my job.
Ignoring the chill from the wind the best I can, I still shiver and get goose bumps as I scan the sidewalk and the street. I’m looking everywhere for something—anything that’s amiss—but come back with nothing. No one appears suspicious and no one seems to pay any attention to me at all.
As much as the thought disturbs me, I was wondering if he’d have someone posted up, watching me. That’s creepy to imagine, but at least I’d have someone to question about everything and perhaps weasel his number out of. The only possible lead that I have in finding him is that new package sitting on my desk.
I cross my fingers that it has his number or some sort of contact information on it. I’m also beginning to wonder if I should perhaps contact the authorities. At first the gesture was sort of sweet and romantic, but now, gifts keep showing up. It’s starting to make me freak a little, especially after what Keisha just said about basements. Fuck, that’s a super creepy thought.
Making the trek back up to my office, I hurry in and start to rip through the paper. Catching myself, I pause briefly when I think about the beautiful purse he sent. Could it be a matching wallet for it? The box is a bit heavier than the other one though, so that wouldn’t make sense. Unless there’s a few things tucked inside making it seem heavier, rather than only one item.
Taking a deep breath, I slow my pace, tearing the paper away much more carefully. Once it’s ripped through and completely gone, I’m left with a plain cardboard box. Using my letter opener, I slice through the scotch tape that’s holding the box closed still.
Inside is a lovely wooden box, painted a pale white, almost like a whitewash. According to the small information card that’s included with it, the box plays music and the top is made of deep blue Murano glass. Set directly in the middle is a handmade, gold Venetian Filigree heart. The bottom of the music box has a tiny imprint of ‘Venice, Italy’ and something else in Italian; I’m guessing the place it was made. It’s exquisite and reminds me of something you’d be more likely to see in a museum.
It rivals the purse. This seems so carefully thought out compared to the other gifts. Each was special in its own way, but this is so much more. It’s different, just like I felt Thaddaeus was the other day. How can I ever yell at him for giving me something so beautiful like this? It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you’d give someone if all you wanted was a booty call. I can’t stop wondering just who this guy is. I wish he’d show his face again so I could have a chance to be kind to him this time.
Opening the box, it begins to tinkle a sweet melody. There’s a small satin pouch in one of the velvet covered sections. Opening the little bag, I tip it over and a pair of earrings falls out. They each have a matching heart and blue glass bead made from the same Murano glass as the box.
Again, it’s my favorite color. I can’t imagine a basement stalker sending me a gift quite like this. I should rule out that thought of him in my head.
I’ve never received something like this—from anyone—before. As the melody keeps playing, my eyes fill with tears like I’m a giant sap. I can’t get past such a sweet gift. It’ll stand out boldly on my dresser at home; I don’t own pretty trinkets or boxes like this.
Sure, I’m a woman and I like lovely things, but I can’t afford to just buy random stuff I see that I don’t somehow actually need. It’s nice to get something that’s purely to look at and listen to. I think the last time my mother bought me a jewelry box, I was twelve years old and I ended up painting the plain box in about ten different colors with my various nail polishes I had at the time.
I wish I had a way to tell him thank you for this. Maybe if I get a chance to speak to Thaddaeus, I can invite him over for dinner instead. I’m not the best cook around, but it’ll be a much more personal way to thank him. I can make a mean homemade lasagna, thanks to helping my mom prepare hers many times when I was growing up.
I don’t think I’ve heard this song before. Grabbing my cell, I hit the record button on my music app. After a few seconds, I tap the search feature. It brings up the artist Kehlani and a track titled Gangsta.
Now that’s creepy.
Had he heard mine and Kaleigh’s conversations? Does he know that she said he was a Gangster? Has he seen my search engine? God, I’m becoming so fucking paranoid over this man.
Maybe I won’t invite him over for dinner. Keisha’s warning blares loudly, taunting me that he’s going to lock me in a basement or some other random tiny room and never let me out to see daylight again.
My phone gives me the option to play the song, so I turn the volume down and the catchy tune begins. Kehlani’s trance-like voice sings about how she needs a gangsta to love her better, how she has secrets that nobody knows and to not let her down. Taking a deep breath, I turn the song off and add it to my favorite playlist. At this rate, it could become my theme song.
Grabbing my purse and digging through it until I find his picture, I pull it free. Unfolding the paper, I stare down at his jet black, leather-clad shoulders. He looks strong—really strong—like there are muscles hiding under his clothes, and he’s tall.
Thaddaeus does have the whole bad boy vibe going on in this picture, and it’s a huge turn-on if I’m being honest with myself.
His hair’s slicked back so perfectly, I’d swear there wasn’t a strand out of place. He has a sharp jawline and a clean-shaven face. I wonder what his teeth look like. Does he have a friendly smile or is it menacing? Does he even smile? According to Kaleigh he doesn’t. He didn’t at the restaurant, and he wasn’t smiling in any of the photos I saw online. If I believed in supernatural things, I’d probably even question if he had fangs at this point. He’s like an enigma; I know absolutely nothing relevant about him, yet he’s consuming my thoughts daily.
The rest of my day goes by the same as all the others, quick and painless. Before I know it, I’ve said goodbye to Keisha and am out the door. I love my walks to and from work; it gives me time to clear my head and just be.
Except when it’s cold and snowing two feet. That sucks ass. I usually just shiver along and try to walk as quickly as possible so I don’t freeze to death or get frostbite. Kaleigh swears her toes have turned black and now hurt all the time because of it. I think she’s full of it though.
I got lucky finding an apartment close to work. I’m able to save a ton of money on cab fare and don’t have to ride on the sketchy public transportation. Sometimes I miss living in a small town with the ease of having your own vehicle and everything nearby. It was so much cheaper and convenient, but the city has some perks as well.
There’s always a ton of people walking at the same times I am, so I’ve never really worried about it being dark outside before whenever I leave the office. But, I swear there’s someone following me tonight. It’s making me all edgy inside. Each glance back, I don’t see anyone unusual but I can feel a watchful gaze on me.
Maybe it’s the newest gift? I’ve learned to wear my purse underneath my big jacket so it’s not visible, but I have the music box in a small gift bag I brought from my office. Is that what’s making me so nervous and suddenly aware? It’s not the value of the box itself, but the beauty of it that I’d hate for it to be stolen or get ruined somehow.
I can hear footsteps, but there are people bustling all around on each side of me. Surely it’s not only coming from behind. Glancing back again, a strong hand lands on my right arm and jostles me yanking my body into a shallow, nearly pitch-black alleyway.
Immediately opening my mouth to scream, I’m shoved up against a rough brick building. A large palm is harshly clamped over my mouth, effectively quieting me. It all happens so fast, I barely have a chance to blink and realize what’s happening to me.
The man’s body forcibly pushes up ag
ainst mine, pinning me alongside the solid surface, making it hard for me to squirm. I can’t see him very well in this position. I’m able to make out the side of a dark hoodie or else stare straight ahead. If he wants to hurt me, he has the absolute perfect position and opportunity to do so.
Even with the warm hand over my mouth, I still attempt to scream. It’s useless though, making him push into my body harder until I’m gasping against his hand for more air. It’s enough to stun me but not actually do bodily harm.
Something soft strokes the side of my neck, his hot breath fluttering closely enough to make me believe it was his nose grazing my skin. My body begins to shake, my teeth chattering inside my mouth, in fear of what he plans to do to me. I never thought I’d be in this situation; I think that’s what’s shocked me the most. I’m strung too tightly now to realize what’s happening, that I could be raped or even be murdered tonight.
He lowly murmurs against my throat so that I’m the only one able to hear him speak. “Careful. You don’t know who’s lurking in the shadows.” His voice is gravelly and deep. when he moves his lips I can feel them along with stubble brush against my skin with each word.
The almost ‘threat’ in his supposed warning has my chest pounding so harshly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a heart attack or fainted right here. That’d be me, just pass out and let my captor have at me without any type of a fight.
Moving as much as possible, I barely shake him, he’s so strong. I’m able to jostle the guy just enough to make him chuckle darkly against my throat. It’s the malicious type of sound that’ll send chills up your spine—the kind that promises torment and suffering. No doubt in this moment he’s a predator and I’m his prey. If I wasn’t so goddamned freaked out inside, I’d think it was fucking sexy coming from such a powerful man.
It’s not sexy though; in fact, his laugh brings tears to my eyes. It obviously amuses him that he can so easily subdue me, sick fuck. This shouldn’t be happening here in the middle of my walk, surrounded by so many other people. I’ve taken self-defense classes before. Fighting off my attacker isn’t supposed to go down like this. They aren’t supposed to snatch you out in the open, only in abandoned parking lots, parks when you’re alone, coming out of buildings late at night when no one’s around, those sorts of times.
My captor shifts and the breeze catches his scent. I can smell him and surprisingly it’s clean. I’d expect dirt and violence to come from him, but instead I get fresh linen and another flutter of his warm breath against my skin.
He mutters one more thing before violently shoving me out of the alley. “Careful, Bella.”
It’s a whisper off the tip of his tongue and it makes me quake inside. I know who it is. No matter how badly I want to ignore that Italian word, I can’t. Only one person has ever called me Bella.
I don’t stop. Once his hands are off me and I’m free, I run—as fast as my heels will carry me. With tears steadily streaming down my face, I run until I finally make it to my building. It feels like it takes forever to reach my door, even though it’s only a few blocks away from my job. My feet throb from running in heels. My calves are burning with a scary reminder that I need to get into better shape, because the next time he may not let me go.
Frantically, I scan all around to see if anyone was coming after me, but I find no one. A few people walking by stare at me like I’m nuts. Surprisingly, there are no men thundering down the sidewalk chasing after me. My side aches from a running cramp as I pant, double checking behind me and then triple checking again to make sure.
I key in my code to get into the building, jumping when the door buzzes to signal it’s unlocked. As soon as I’m safely inside, I yank the door closed behind me until I feel the locking mechanism click into place. Then I take off running up the stairs to my apartment, ignoring small stabs of pain from my ribs, calves, and feet.
Getting inside my actual apartment is pure relief, but still, I can’t stop the tears from pouring out. You’d think I was brutally beaten or something, but I’m fine. I wasn’t physically harmed at all, but my ego and my false sense of security has become severely tainted.
Be careful, he’d ordered.
I thought I was though. I’m so damn confused inside. Why on earth would he attack me like that, only to warn me about who could be watching? No, not watching. He used the phrase lurking in the shadows. Which is even scarier when it’s put like that.
And he’d called me Bella of all names. Only one person has called me Bella before and that’s Thaddaeus. It hit me in the alleyway as well, but it didn’t fully register at the time that it could’ve been him back there; holding me so tightly, smelling me, touching me...
Fuck.
Is he toying with me? Is that what this is? A joke? Does he think it’s amusing to send people gifts then go and scare the life out of them? I should’ve kept my fucking mouth shut that day at lunch when he came into the restaurant.
Thinking that the man who just had me in the alley back there is Thaddaeus has me sobbing for other reasons. I want to punch him, kick him, and hurt him for scaring me like that. After sending me something so thoughtful and beautiful today, how could he fuck with my head like this? What did I do to deserve this?
I have no way to protect myself from a man like him either. What am I going to do?
I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn’t work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness.
-Al Pacino
Day Number five…
“You’re completely fucked in the head, Joker.” My close friend Maximillian Macintosh smirks.
“Why? Because I’m teaching her a lesson? She needs to be more careful.” She’s careless and will end up getting hurt if she doesn’t open her eyes. This life isn’t for the weak. My enemies will have her strung up after I take her on one date at this rate.
“So, you’re going to terrorize her? Did you see the poor yank? You completely spooked her. She was trembling like a terrified child for God’s sake.” His English accent’s more prominent as he becomes increasingly entertained with our conversation.
“If I want any chance of spending time with her in the near future then she has to be prepared for the types of people we deal with. You know as well as I do, half the dirty fuckers would eat her alive, being so naïve. Even if her innocence is quite amusing, I don’t want anyone else picking up on it.”
“You’re right there, but don’t you want to keep the innocence in her, at least for a bit? You could slowly corrupt her; it could be a game of sorts.” He snickers, excitedly. “Besides, she’s not like us and you sending her things and then attacking her is going to have her filing a restraining order against you in no time. Unless you want her to, that is?”
“She can try. Half the cops would laugh if she were to say my name to them. Benny sent over her computer search history. She knows who I am. It looks like she tried finding out contact information on me and then read over other various articles.” Benny, my tracker, is good. He finds anything and everything.
“If she saw the online shit, then no doubt she’s already scared, especially after what you just pulled in the alley. Why don’t you go after someone who’s in the life? Right now, it’s like you’re playing with your dinner.”
“Because I don’t want a woman who knows the ropes; I want her.” And after having Grace against me like that, smelling her, tasting her … I must have her.
Part of me thinks that I’m being stupid by standing here in the lobby of the police station, but I have to file a report. He said to be careful, well I’ll show him just how careful I can be and he’ll never be able to step foot around me again.
“Miss?” The young cop calls me back over to the front desk.
“Yes?”
“Officer Malcolm is busy I’m afraid, but I do have a gentleman wishing to speak with you. He may be able to help you with your issue.” She nods over toward the door and my stomach drops as I turn and see who’s standing there.
I
t’s one of them—one of the guys that was with Thaddaeus at the restaurant. Seeing him standing there looking so imposing, has my stomach dropping and my heart speeding up. Does this mean that Thaddaeus is somewhere around here also? My fingers move on their own accord at my sides, nervous that he’s so close to me, in the same building and in the same freaking room no less.
“Um…ma’am, please. I can just wait on the officer.” Waiting around in the small, stuffy room for however long it takes is better than facing off with that man over there.
“It’s okay, just talk to Mr. Macintosh, he’ll get you sorted.” She smiles kindly and I try not to hyperventilate at her words.
“I’d rather not. I prefer to see a police officer.” Take the hint lady. No one can fix this but the law.
Shaking her head, she huffs, like I’m a pest giving her a rough time, “I’m afraid that won’t be happening today. You need to speak to the gentleman over there about your issue.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now. I can’t talk to a cop? I thought that’s how this worked. Granted I’ve never been at the police station before, but aren’t they supposed to help you when you walk in? I’m supposed to just waltz on over to one of Thaddaeus’ friends, and say what? Why the hell did your buddy attack me last night on my way home from work? I seriously doubt he’ll be able to help me sort that out. For all I know, the man could be here to kidnap me or taunt me further.
However, I am in the middle of the police station. Maybe I’ll talk to this other guy after all, if only for a moment and see what the hell he wants, why he’s here. I’m basically surrounded by cops, in a sense, so surely, he won’t hurt me without someone doing something. At least I hope not.
I’m decent at putting on a fake smile and pretending I have more bravado then I really do, so let’s see what he has to say. Lifting my nose a bit higher, I trek on over to him, damn near dragging my feet to get them to approach the big man. He’s freaking tall with wide shoulders, and did I mention imposing? He looks fucking evil, watching each step I take, while wearing that mischievous smirk. This is a man that I could believe would be plastered all over the internet from various crimes he’s committed. Don’t get me wrong, he looks extremely rich and well put together. It’s the malevolent expression he wears that gives him away.
Gangster Page 4
