ONE To Watch Me (The ONE Series, Part 1, Book 1)

by Alicia Maxwell

  “It did.” I look up straight into his eyes, tilting my head all the way to reach the height of his six and a half feet, no less. It’s a challenge, at my five and a half.

  “Thank you!”

  “You are most welcome. I would do it all over in a heartbeat.”

  We turn back to walking in silence until we’re at the intersection of Collins and the park entrance. I realize I need to call an Uber, but he beats me to it.

  “I’ll take you to your place. For my peace of mind. Just want to make sure you get there safely.”

  “Um, ok. Are you sure? I can manage.”

  “Yes, please don’t deny me the peace of mind.”

  “Thank you, again!” I give him my address and he types it in.

  “Two minutes and it’ll be here. White Camry.”

  I look at the road, spotting a white Toyota approaching us. I have no clue how to tell if it’s a Camry or not a Camry unless I’m reading the label on the back, so I point to it. Victor laughs.

  “This is not a Camry. Good thing I’m still here.”

  I purse my lips and keep looking at the road until I spot another white car in the distance. I give him a silent look and he nods.

  “Now that’s our ride.”

  I wonder to myself, how do guys do this? Then again, they’re guys, cars are their toys.

  The car stops and we get in. Victor opens the door for me, but sticks his head in for a second to check out the inside. Then I climb in, followed by him. He takes up too much space in the back, and I push myself against the other door to give him room. Poor guy. With his height and build he should be driving something huge, not sitting in the back.

  The car starts rolling but soon stops in a traffic jam. There must be an accident ahead of us. All lanes but one are closed.

  We’re sitting silently, listening to some elevator music the driver has playing in the car.

  “You know, I keep thinking about that creep. It’s weird, but I don’t think it was an accident he was there. I know it sounds crazy, but I think he's been after me for some time. I felt someone watching me all evening."

  I figure I shouldn’t mention feeling someone watching me ever since I got to Miami. That’ll sound outright crazy.

  Victor gives me a long look, his eyes telling me he knows what I’m talking about.

  “Have you ever felt eyes on you? You know what I mean?” I look at him questioningly, hoping he doesn’t think I’m some crazy lunatic wandering deserted trails in the dark looking for trouble.

  “I know exactly what you mean.” He’s quiet again.

  “The good news is, regardless of how long he might have followed you, he’s gone now and is not likely to be coming back any time soon.”

  I consider his words, finding some peace in them.

  I relax against the door again, peeking around the driver’s seat to check the size of the traffic jam ahead. Looks like we’re almost there.

  “So, do you often save ladies in the middle of deserted beaches?”

  Victor’s presence and his reassurance of the thug’s departure has me feeling better by the minute.

  “I’m the knight of the night!” He laughs and his eyes are softer now, less worry in them.

  "Just missing some armor," I joke, playing along and looking at his barely-covered form, grey cargo shorts and a tight, dark T-shirt being the only armor to speak of.

  "Uh-huh, you just thanked me a few minutes ago, and now you’re picking on my armor?" He makes a funny sad face, and I cannot keep from laughing.

  ”Summer armor is perfectly fine, Miami-style knight!" I giggle in response.

  “You would not believe what I can do in this armor!” He gives me a long meaningful look and then winks.

  I’m left debating whether part of the joke was the actual truth. His looks and overall endurance are worthy of a soldier.

  I’m debating asking him straight-up if he ever served when the car turns and we approach the lobby of my building. Victor gets out of the car and extends his strong arm to hold me up. I notice he has some tattoos on his forearms that I hadn’t spotted before; they’re on the back side, running from his elbows down to his wrists. I don’t catch what they say.

  “I’ll take you to your door and leave.”

  “You really don’t have to. I’ll be ok.”

  “I insist. Let me be a true knight and deliver you to your castle.” He gives me a small bow of his head, and I just laugh.

  “This is not an attempt to come home with you. I swear! It would just make me feel good knowing you’re safe inside.” He sounds earnest.

  “Ok, yes, thank you. I really didn’t think you were trying to come home with me…”

  I catch myself realizing I really do not get that kind of vibe from him. Protective, yes; flirty, no.

  Victor sticks his head back into the vehicle and asks the driver to wait for him for five minutes while he takes the lady upstairs.

  We enter the building and I head to the elevators. Victor is close behind me, and in less than a minute we are in front of my door.

  "I'm here. Thank you very much for walking with me."

  "It was my pleasure. Too bad we had to meet under these circumstances.”

  “Oh well. I’m so happy you were there. It would have been worse if we hadn’t met.”

  “True.”

  “Thanks again!”

  “Don’t mention it. I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah, see you around.”

  As I swipe my card to open the door, Victor turns to head back to the elevators. I look at him one last time, and get inside.

  Thirteen

  The condo is unsurprisingly crispy-cool and quiet. I rush to close the door, making sure all locks are locked. Being alone is getting to me. My phone goes back to the speaker dock and music fills the space, reaching to the farthest corners. I need to break the silence, or else I’ll drive myself nuts listening for every little sound. After tonight’s events I’m in no mood to go out for dinner alone, so I order it in.

  Swaying my hips to the beat of the music, I make my way to the bathroom, undress, and step into the hot shower. Standing under the scalding water, I try to make sense of what just happened. It was all too bizarre to comprehend.

  There I was, in the middle of a beach, at one of the most upscale places in Miami. You would think I should have been safe.

  I keep replaying the events in my mind, and the eyes of that creep keep popping up. He reminds me of Matthew, the Matthew only I know, the one who shows up behind closed bedroom doors. Those are the scary, dangerous eyes of a predator. Even though I was never raped, I felt used. He had this way about him that made me feel inadequate. He came, took what he wanted, and left.

  My vision blurs and tears sting my eyes. I realize I’m crying hysterically. Washing my face, I turn the water cold and gasp in shock. Then I turn it back to scalding hot, before turning it off completely. The tears are somewhat gone, washed away and chased by the streams of cold water. I look in the mirror and command myself not to cry.

  Even though I’m staying in, I still get dressed in a casual dress. One of my new purchases: a white, jersey cotton dress that hugs me at the top and flows freely from waist down to below my knees. Just cute enough, without being overdressed. I refuse to feel like a victim.

  As I’m looking through my shell collection scattered out on the table, I hear a knock and jump.

  "Room service!"

  I open the door and let the lady roll in a table with my dinner.

  She quickly sets everything up on the dining table next to all the shells. I thank her with a few bucks and lock up after she leaves, double-checking all my locks again.

  The room fills with the aroma of my dinner, and my stomach rumbles. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

  The food is delicious, or maybe I’m just starving, or maybe it’s both. Regardless, I’m glad no one is watching me. I’m not eating like the lady my mother insisted I should be. Instead, I’m going at my
food. The salad, pasta, and a piece of apple pie are gone in no time. The carb overload, topped with wine, makes me sleepy. I make quick work of putting the dishes outside my door, and go to lie down on the balcony. Grabbing a throw from the couch, I wrap myself in it and get comfortable. The ocean is still, and the waves are practically silent. I look at the moon over the horizon and feel my lids getting heavy.

  I watch her again, just briefly.

  Same spot, same delicious body.

  She’s become my addiction.

  I couldn’t stay away, even if I tried.

  Especially after today.

  I want to dream of Alex, but my thoughts keep taking me to my past. The predatory eyes of the stranger keep showing up and blending with Matthew's eyes. I feel helpless and inadequate—the way Matthew made me feel in bed, as if I was worthless. Nothing I did ever pleased him. He was always criticizing me. There were never any compliments, just complaints about me not being sensual or sensitive, and instead too frigid and stiff. I feel terrified, as I did with him, afraid of doing the wrong thing. My mind is playing games with me, making my whole body go tight, as it did back home with Matthew. The most painful memories—his bitter words, his cold eyes—keep replaying in my mind. The way he would make me feel cheap and used during sex, unceremoniously taking what he wanted.

  I’m shivering from the night’s cool breeze and can no longer hold back. I jerk up suddenly and realize I’m crying, as I’m choking on my own tears.

  At the same time, a pair of strong arms lifts me from the chair, and I freeze in fear. I’m still in my dream; I’m paralyzed, and blinded by my tears.

  I try to scream. Someone is holding me tight, saying something in my ear, but I’m in panic and can’t make out the words. I have no strength to fight. My limbs go limp, and I hang my head in defeat. I’m losing the battle, and I refuse to open my eyes and look at my attacker.

  Right when I think it’s all over for me, I’m placed back on the chair. Familiar hands touch my face, and I feel a gentle and very familiar kiss on my forehead. I open my eyes slowly, afraid of what I’d find, and see Alex. His face is stricken with pain. His eyes are glassy, a shade of metallic grey I’ve never seen before.

  "Angel, oh Angel. I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You were just there, crying, I'm sorry."

  He’s whispering and lightly rubbing his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping at the tears. Despite his overall state of despair, Alex's nearness has a profound calming effect on me. I suddenly feel safe.

  "It's ok, I ... I had a bad dream, it happens, sometimes." I try to focus and look at his face, so close to mine. It’s ashen with worry.

  "How did you get in? When?" I hate that he saw me in all of my desperate glory, disoriented, scared, crying, fighting him. Oh god, I never meant for him to witness this.

  "I called you time and time again but you never answered. I got worried and came by as soon as I could, but you wouldn’t open the door.” He pauses for a second and looks down, continuing quieter.

  “Then I used my resources and got the keys to your place. I knew you were inside, I could hear your music. I was going absolutely crazy with worry because you wouldn’t answer the door."

  He still gently holds my face in his hands. I’ve never seen him so shaken up.

  "And then I walked in, and you were nowhere to be found. I called out your name and ran through the rooms only to find you crying on the balcony. You looked like you were in agony. You looked like you were… hurting…” His voice is almost a whisper.

  "I’m sorry, I never meant for you to see me like this. I really wish you didn’t. I'm sorry, I should have kept my phone with me, but I left it at the speaker dock. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. Don't apologize.” He bends to kiss my forehead again.

  “We all have our demons. God knows, I do too. I should have come back earlier. I meant to, but I got tied down with stuff and couldn’t leave."

  "Come on, get up, lie with me." I tug at his arm, lifting from the chair. I feel freezing, and another shiver runs through my body. I need him, need to feel his warm body pressed to mine, need to feel enveloped in his strong arms, to feel protected, if only from my own dreams.

  As we settle back into the chair, Alex senses my need for him and cradles me in his arms, holding me in a bear hug. I relish his closeness.

  "Why were you so worried for me?" I’m not sure how much of my nightmare he’d seen, but I’m sure it hadn’t been pretty. I really hope it didn’t turn him away from me, or worse, make him pity me.

  There is a pause. He must be contemplating his answer.

  "What are you thinking?" I turn to look in his eyes. I desperately hope there’s no pity there. Instead, I see him looking blindly in front of himself, lost in thought.

  "Alex?"

  His voice is flat, emotionless. He’s distancing himself from the memories.

  "When I was thirteen, my father was making a name for himself in the business world. He’d been threatened before, but he’d always ignored it. Then, I got kidnapped." Alex sucks in a deep breath and goes on.

  "It took a while before I was free again." He is quiet, a small tremor shakes his body, and I hug him tightly.

  "While I was kept there, I witnessed things, pretty bad things." His voice starts shaking with emotion, and he falls silent.

  I’m stunned, and at a complete loss for words. Never in a million years did I expect him to say something like that. I turn to face him and hug him tighter, trying to shield him from the oncoming memories. I know better than to pity him.

  He continues with a renewed sense of strength.

  "The things they did to women, those images are imprinted in my mind; they’ve haunted me for years. When I saw you just now, your face, your cries—there was something terribly wrong there."

  He rubs his eyes and shakes his head, as if shaking the memories away. If only he knew how close he’d come to the embarrassing truth of my past.

  "I’ve never shared this story with anyone before. I'm not even completely sure why I'm telling you. It just seems so natural to talk to you. Everything seems so natural with you." His voice is a soft whisper, turning from painful to hopeful.

  His grip on me is tighter now, his hot breath on my neck. I revel in his arms and search for strength in his embrace. Now it’s my turn to push away the memories. I fall silent, just holding him tight, gathering the energy to talk.

  "I was alone at the beach today and went much farther south than I usually do. It had gotten dark before I realized it. This weird guy came at me from out of nowhere; he looked crazy and wanted to hurt me. I’m almost certain he would have hurt me, were it not for a stranger who intervened."

  I feel Alex tighten his grip, and I can barely breathe. He sucks in a breath, but does not dare interrupting me.

  I stop and try to inhale and exhale deeply, to avoid another meltdown. I have to be strong.

  Then I feel an urgent need to share a little of my story with Alex, to let him in like he’d done for me. For once in my life, I feel capable of facing my demons—just not all at once. I’ll share a little bit at a time, watching for the effect it has on Alex. This side of my life, the one no one knows about, is eating away at me, and I need to open up, to let go of the past and look into the future. The future, where there are no pretenses, no shame, no secrets, just bare me. I take another deep inhale and go on.

  "I feel the same way you do. I don't want to pretend with you. My whole life I’ve been living up to someone else’s standards, and what's worse, pretending I liked it. My trip to Miami is not coincidental, not just a beach vacation for the sake of getting a nice tan. I came here with a mission to sort my life, find my true self, decide what to do next. I can’t just pretend to be happy anymore. I thought I had it all, the professional and personal life, but it’s falling apart. The personal part came down first, now I'm about to crash the professional part too."

  Alex is quiet, just holding me, letting me talk while he listens. His tight hold on my body
gives me the strength and support I need to continue talking. This is the first time I’m saying these things out loud, and it makes everything more real. I have no idea if this will scare him off, if I’ll be left alone. If that's what’s meant to happen, then so be it. I have to get this off my chest. I no longer want to pretend or avoid. If there’s ever going to be anything between us, it has to be built on the complete and utter truth and trust.

  "On the outside, I have it all. A set of successful parents to look up to, a degree from a prestigious university, blooming career growth, and a fiancée who shares my business ideas."

  Alex tenses as I mention the fiancée, but he doesn’t let go of me; he just reinforces his grip. I draw strength from his hold and the overall sense of safety he seems to exude. Turning to look into his eyes, I search them for signs of disapproval or alienation, but neither is there. His eyes are warm and filled with such care, it’s hard to believe we’ve only known each other for less than a week.

  Feeling a renewed charge of self-confidence, I break eye contact, looking out at the ocean instead, and continue.

  "In reality, however, things are nowhere near as peachy. I have virtually no relationship with my parents, except for business interactions and social functions when we pretend to be a happy family. I have lived a pretend life for a long time, but I’ve gotten used it, really. What threw me off balance was my fiancée. He was my parents' protégé. They were the ones who set me up with him, and I assumed he was a decent person. I found out he hasn’t been faithful. I’ve been getting hints from our friends, but I always refused to believe this could be happening. Now, too many things are falling into place. I’m not sure how long he’s been doing it. I was aware our relationship wasn’t perfect; we lacked intimate feelings for each other. But that was just the final nail in the coffin. I could justify his coldness, rationalize it being due to his age, explain the lack of feelings as maybe my own coldness. I cannot live with a deceitful person. I broke up with him before coming here."