What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  She kept the strange man within her sight and awareness as she bent to her son.

  “I’m sorry I was late, sweetie. Were you okay by yourself?”

  She let her eyes drift to the man who was still, quite boldly, standing there.

  “Yes, Mommy—I was talking to the man over there. I was waiting, and then he stayed with me until you got here.”

  “Oh, really? And do you remember what I said about strangers?”

  “Yes, but…”

  Dahlia couldn’t stand it any longer. Holding Angelo’s hand, she walked over to the man.

  “Excuse me, but do I know you?”

  He looked startled.

  “Uh, yeah, actually…”

  “I sure as heck don’t know you enough for you to be warming yourself up to my child.”

  “Dahlia, I was just keeping him company until…”

  “How do you know my name?” Fear slammed her heart against her chest.

  Dahlia was aware that she had now moved into a defensive stance, as if shielding Angelo.

  Was this guy the reason she felt stalked the other day?

  “Have you been watching me? Following me?”

  “Dahlia, listen…”

  “No, you listen, creeper—you stay away from me and my son, you hear me? I will not hesitate to get authorities involved.”

  Dahlia had no clue what she would even tell the authorities, and she was almost one hundred percent sure that they would ignore her anyway. Something major always had to happen before they took action—especially when it came to women like her. She’d be lucky if she could get any of them to care at all.

  Dahlia felt a bit guilty about another thought that made it through: the guy was creepy, but he was one fine specimen—there was no doubt about it. He had a beautifully symmetrical face and an obviously fit body underneath his very expensive-looking clothes. And something about him struck her as familiar. He seemed well-off—maybe she had seen him in the news or something; he sure looked like he had stepped right off the cover of GQ.

  As soon as she and Angelo were safely in the car—doors locked—she turned to her son.

  “Angelo, what did the man tell you? How did he get to you?”

  “Well, he said he was a friend of yours, and that you had gotten held up and he was just there to make sure I was all right until you got here. Didn’t you send him, Mommy?”

  “No, darling, I would never do that. You know mommy’s friends, right? I’d send them if something happened, but don’t trust anything a stranger says, okay, baby? Sometimes people are only pretending to be nice so they can do something bad to you.” Angelo hung his head. “I’m not mad at you, baby, I’m mad at him. I’m mad at a guy like that who might be looking to take advantage of vulnerable people.”

  Angelo didn’t say anything. Usually he would ask a question. “What does vulnerable mean?” for example, but perhaps he already knew.

  “Why did he say he was your friend?” he said instead.

  “That’s what they do, love, to earn your trust. If mommy is ever late again, you make sure to stay there with Miss Sherry, okay? Tell her you don’t know him if he comes around again.”

  Angelo’s head was still down. “Okay,” he said, sounding sad.

  How had that man gotten past the whole system? How had he convinced everyone he was all right?

  “In fact, I’m going to give you a safe word—a password in case anyone shows up and says they’re my friend or that they’re there to pick you up. They have to know the password, and if they don’t, scream, run, whatever—just make sure you get away from them because they don’t have permission to get you; they just want to take you from me. For bad reasons. Are you ready? Okay, the password is…” Dahlia thought hard for something easy to remember, yet hard to figure out. She thought about the toys in Angelo’s room. “Elephant. Okay? Blue elephant.”

  Angelo giggled and she couldn’t help smiling along.

  She would make sure to make him some chocolate chip cookies later.

  Alec’s mouth hung open for a while, long after Dahlia had left; he was still in shock from her verbal attack.

  He didn’t blame her at all for going off on him once he thought about it—what made him think he could just sort of barge in like that and worm his way into her life? What was he thinking, using her child to do it? How stupid! He must have seemed like such a creep; in fact, he wouldn’t blame her if she maced him the next time she saw him.

  He would have to reevaluate.

  He felt so out of practice. He hadn’t had to strategize to get a woman’s attention for years now, so he was more than a bit rusty. All the time he spent at the gym working off the frustrations of his projects paid off before knowledge about his other assets did when it came to women. He had entered college a virgin, but once he finally grew into his current body and dropped his glasses for contacts, and then had corrective laser surgery, girls had not been a problem since. Then money started rolling in, and he eventually learned how to seem smoother, how to use his assets to draw attention to himself.

  Alec thought about what his next move should be. If he called Dahlia, she would, no doubt, be creeped out even more and demand to know how he got her number. Better not open that can of worms; she’d really freak out if she knew how much he had gathered about her. He had to find a way that didn’t startle her again. But how? How could he put himself in her path without setting her off again, and after leaving such a bad impression?

  He decided his first move would be to send her some flowers of apology. But would she be weirded out by that as well? Would it be too soon? Would she see the gesture as a threat, rather than a gift?

  He’d had enough deliberations—there was only one way to find out.

  Then, whenever he convinced her to meet with him again, he had to tell her about their history and remind her who he was. She, no doubt, thought she had a crazy stalker on her hands now, and he had to allay her suspicion in some way. If he presented himself as a familiar face from her past, she might trust him a bit—just a tad. And that’s all he needed.

  Chapter Three

  Breaking the Ice

  Dahlia didn’t miss the looks she was getting from coworkers as she walked toward her desk—something had happened.

  She checked to make sure her blouse hadn’t popped open, revealing an errant boob, or that something—a pen, or coffee—hadn’t left a mark on the front of her clothes that she had somehow missed.

  Was her nose running? She swiped her hand across it to check.

  She understood the wide-eyed stares only when she was within ten feet of her desk and saw the massive bouquet of flowers on it. What was that, five dozen roses? With gorgeous white and red buds arranged beautifully together in a stunning gold vase amongst baby’s breath and other supporting emerald stems?

  Surely there had been a mistake; perhaps someone had meant to deliver the flowers to the cubicle next to hers.

  “What the…?” She realized the words had slipped very loudly from her mouth instead of staying in her head.

  Her next-door cubicle neighbor, Susan, giggled, light blue eyes riveted.

  “Girrrrl. That’s what we’ve been saying. Someone’s been a very good—or a very bad—girl.”

  Envy, Dahlia realized. Amazement and awe. And curiosity. That’s what she had seen on all the nearby faces while she walked up to this spectacle.

  Dahlia went straight for the greeting card and noticed a second bouquet placed on the ground—calla lilies flanked by purple roses. Who knew how much she loved calla lilies?

  She lifted the card from that one as well while admiring the flowers.

  Would love the chance to see you face to face.—A Secret Admirer, said the first card.

  Then she read the second card: Text yes to the number on the back of this card and I will make arrangements at The Golden Swan. Send day and time.

  Dahlia caught her breath. Her favorite restaurant? She had only gone there once, and it had been the best th
ing about her date.

  She almost texted yes immediately.

  Then it occurred to her who the flowers were likely from. But surely, these couldn’t have come from that creepy asshole?

  She flipped the card over to see if she could recognize the number and found another message printed there as well.

  I will keep asking, one way or another, until you say yes.

  A shiver went through her. She wasn’t sure if she should be scared or flattered.

  Dahlia looked at the bouquets and wondered whether or not to take them home.

  She decided to take home the calla lily bouquet and leave the roses behind to beautify her otherwise drab, empty stall. Besides, that particular bouquet was probably too heavy for her to carry anyway. But who was she kidding? The flowers made her smile and feel desirable. And she loved the green it painted her coworkers with.

  Still, although she appreciated her admirer’s grand gesture, she did not have an answer for him just yet.

  Alec stared at the prepaid phone, waiting for Dahlia’s text. There was no way he would put his real number out there just yet—not until she was giving him a shot. Besides, any of those broads in her office might be nosy enough to read the cards for her and end up with access to him; he couldn’t risk it. As soon as she texted yes he would dump the burner phone and move to the next step.

  But the yes did not come.

  He waited until eleven p.m. that night, and still, it did not come.

  Dahlia felt awful—whoever this admirer was, he was spending way too much money on her. How much did orchids go for these days anyway? And why were so many of them on her desk? She barely had the space from yesterday’s rose bouquet.

  Again, she ignored the card’s message.

  But the next day’s bouquet of dahlias did her in.

  Stop, she texted to the number on the back of the card.

  Not the answer I’m looking for, came back.

  Why are you doing this? she replied.

  I need to see you. I want to go out with you, Dahlia. One chance. One date.

  Who are you?

  You will find out when you get there.

  Dahlia felt a thrill run through her again. As odd as the whole thing was, it excited her. She hadn’t had a secret admirer since back in her school days—seventh grade, probably. And she hadn’t exactly been tearing up the dating scene; she hadn’t dated at all for the whole first year of Angelo’s life, and since then, she’d had a few dates and one three-month long relationship.

  She was way out of practice in every way.

  But how was she to know this guy wasn’t some psycho, waiting to chop her up and bury her at sea? He sounded kind of crazy already. And intense.

  I need to see you, his latest message said.

  The good news was that the restaurant was open and public, and there was not much he could do if she met him there.

  Decide when is best for you, his next text said. When you’re ready, text time and date.

  Dahlia sighed, hoping the date wouldn’t be more trouble than it was worth; time was still money, and quite literally in the case of hiring a babysitter. But the least she could do was thank the guy for the day-brightening flowers.

  I will let you know, she texted him back.

  The hostess smiled at her in an odd manner—like she had a secret—when Dahlia mentioned who she was there to meet.

  “Right this way,” the slim blonde said.

  As Dahlia was led to a somewhat secluded corner of the restaurant, she spotted the man who had frightened her days before.

  She almost stopped walking, considering turning on her heel and leaving without a word.

  No, it’s best to find out what he wants instead of staying paranoid, thinking he’s in the shadows somewhere, lurking, she thought.

  When she arrived at the table and he smiled at her, her heartbeat tripled, despite her wariness and leftover anger. He was a lot more handsome than she remembered, and even then, she thought he was a Demigod. Maybe it was the suit—the way he looked so clean and well-put together. So trim, so…

  “Thank you,” he said to the hostess in a deep, masculine voice. Dahlia realized that the girl must have gotten specific instructions to escort her over as he slipped bills into her hand. The girl threw an undoubtedly appreciative—and even suggestive—look and smile his way.

  Dahlia felt a stir of jealousy, and then checked herself. Don’t be silly, she told herself. Just because he bought you thousands of dollars in flowers doesn’t mean he’s yours.

  “You again,” she said to him in an accusatory but somewhat light tone.

  He chuckled. “Not the greeting I’m used to, but I’ll take it for now. Welcome.”

  “Why are you stalking me?”

  “Again, not an accusation I’m used to.” He leaned forward a bit. “Dahlia, I’d like us to get to know each other better.”

  “Okay, let’s start with that—how do you know my name?”

  “I…conducted some research.”

  “And you don’t think that sounds creepy at all? Especially considering…before?”

  “When I see something I want, I go for it,” he said, his blue eyes a bit more intense. “I pull out all the stops. And yes, that includes doing my homework. You might find it creepy, but it’s quite basic info we’re talking about here.”

  Dahlia shook her head. “I don’t understand. I’ve never met you before—why me? Where did you find me or see me first?”

  He smiled, and again, her heart tugged. It was an almost boyish smile—except it made him look sexy.

  Damn this man—why did everything he did come off so goddamned sexy?

  ’Cause you haven’t had any in a while, she reminded herself, and this man would be a wonderful way to get back on the horse. She was grateful her darker complexion would likely hide the unmistakeable sudden flush to her cheeks.

  She briefly closed her eyes and shook her head, hoping it would clear the naughty thoughts suddenly entering her mind.

  What was it? The gorgeous restaurant’s ambience? Sure, but it was mostly the gorgeous man himself affecting her—the way he looked at her. She had no doubt that whatever this man wanted, he got.

  “We have a history, Dahlia, to be honest. I’m…” He seemed to rethink what he’d been about to say. “How about we start at the beginning? Yes, I know your name, but tell me about you.”

  “You also know my son’s name and where he goes to school.” Dahlia folded her arms. “I’m not telling you anything else until you explain yourself.”

  His half-grin almost melted her.

  “You’re really going to make me work, aren’t you? I’m glad.” He shifted, leaning forward again. “Like I said, we have a history. We know each other; at least, I’ve known you a long time. You obviously don’t recognize me, but I never forgot you. We went to Cedars.”

  She studied him closely, examining his features for some sign of familiarity and found none. “Then how come I don’t recognize you?”

  His grin seemed bitter this time. “I looked a lot different back then.” He paused. “Do you remember a super-skinny guy with raging pimples and acne, glasses and braces? Who wore ill-fitting shorts and…”

  Dahlia was quiet for a few moments as she processed his description. Then a face jumped out in her mind.

  “Oh my god—Alec Wilde? You’re kidding me. You definitely look a lot, lot different. Wow.”

  She felt herself relaxing a bit.

  “Yup, it’s me. In the flesh.”

  She took a moment to rake her eyes over him. “You cleaned up really well, to say the least.”

  “All it took was some more growing up and a dedication to the gym. Plus, these days, I can afford a beauty team.”

  “Glad to hear it! Wait, do you? Have a beauty team, I mean?” She gave him a playful, judgmental look.

  “Besides my haircuts and man-scaping? Not a chance. I do treat myself to the occasional sauna. Might explain the radiant skin you’re envying.”
>
  Dahlia laughed, the last bit of doubt and misgivings fading away.

  Her laugh took his breath away, her face lighting up in a way that made him wonder how she could go from reserved wariness to magical.

  Relief washed over him as he felt Dahlia let go and enjoy the moment; he had an in, at last.

  “Please tell me you’ll let us do this again.”

  She gave him a wicked smile. “I will see about my schedule. And I have to figure out what to tell Angelo now that I’ve already turned him against you, if there’s a chance he’ll see you again. By the way, you still haven’t told me what made you come after me; it’s been over ten years since junior high, for goodness’ sake. No hide nor hair from you, yet here you are, out of the blue wanting to take me out. What’s that about?”

  Alec considered his lie carefully. He smiled. “You caught me by surprise. I came to check out Angelo’s school for a friend and happened to see you. You didn’t see me, of course. I recognized you immediately—you were as beautiful as I remembered you.”

  Dahlia rolled her eyes, her smile wide. “Oh god, Alec, stop—I know you’re lying.”

  His heart felt like it had paused. Just like that she had picked it up?

  “I wasn’t beautiful then, and I’m not beautiful now, and you know it.” She looked away as she said the words, her smile fading while he sighed inwardly in relief. “You always were to me, Dahlia. I only wish I had the courage back then to say so to you directly. But hey—better late than never, right?” She looked shy, still not meeting his eyes but her smile had returned, dimples with it. God, she was adorable. “For our next date, I pick you up. I have a few places in mind. But is there anywhere you’d like to go in particular? Money is no object.”

  “Well, I sort of picked this date, so you can pick the next.”

  “Actually, I picked this one, remember?”

  “But based off of what your intelligence team gathered of my likes and dislikes, right?” She sighed. “I will admit to being out of practice. I have no idea where to even start.”

  “Well, I have lots of ideas, but something tells me you’re not up to some of them quite yet,” he said.