Stalkers: A Dark Romance Anthology

by Ally Vance

  My brother and I became closer, unlike our previous relationship of barely communicating. At first, I intended to learn more about Kate through him, but I’d grown fond of Eric in the short time. There’s more to him than the flamboyant younger brother I had become accustomed to. When he announced his wedding to my parents, I assumed my father would put his foot down. He never openly discussed Eric’s sexuality, but surprisingly, he gave Eric and his fiancé, Tristan, his blessing.

  The timing was somewhat perfect, giving me ample opportunity to see Kate with a purpose. It started with the bachelor weekend in Vegas, a weekend I’d gladly wish to forget.

  Conveniently, the same night I see her, she married him. I had no doubt my presence still affected her, hence, the sudden leap in marriage. Somehow, I just needed her to see it.

  It didn’t stop the rage consuming me upon hearing the news. Ashamed to admit it, I spent most of the weekend drunk to get my mind off things. At one point, three girls were in my hotel room eating each other out while I watched with barely any desire.

  My life spiraled out of control all because of Kate.

  The one who got away.

  Yet here I am, on Eric’s wedding day at my parents’ East Hampton estate, the same place where I first met Kate. I watched her walk down the aisle like the goddess she is. It was the only thing I could focus on, the only thing consuming my thoughts. I should’ve had plenty of opportunities to talk with her throughout the day and night, but she made it clear there would be nothing of the sort.

  I swore it was her husband’s words, not hers.

  I’d found myself at the bar after Kate abandoned me on the dance floor, ego bruised and barely able to make sense of it all. With a tight jaw, my eyes narrowed as the anger tore through me like a vicious wave. I didn’t take rejection well, not understanding why I refused to call defeat. The obsession only grew, and I had no clue how to stop feeding it.

  I’m my own worst enemy.

  “To love and be scorned,” Allegra snipes beside me while I nurse my drink.

  “What do you want?”

  “My, my, aren’t we a little temperamental?” Allegra mocks with a disturbing laugh. “Don’t get angry at me. I tried to keep her in your life. It’s not my fault she fell in love with such a handsome man. After all, Noah is CEO of the Deluxe Group.”

  “Yes, a role handed him to by his rich cousin-in-law, unlike some people who worked hard to build themselves from nothing.”

  “Quite bitter, Dominic? And to correct you, you didn’t just build your business from nothing. Your inheritance from your grandfather gave you the foot in the door you needed. Granted, I’m sure he didn’t envision his hard earnings being invested in a sex club. The poor man must be rolling over in his grave.”

  “Is there a reason why you’re still here beside me? I’m sure there’s some young man catching your attention somewhere?”

  “Remember, Dominic… you need me more than I need you.”

  With her callous words, she storms off.

  Still gazing at Kate on the dance floor with the fucker’s hands all over her, I ask the bartender for another round as my brother, Eric, pulls up next to me. “Hit me with our hardest.”

  Amused, I slide a drink over. “It’s your wedding day, shouldn’t you be sober or something?”

  “Are you kidding me? All our relatives from China attending a gay wedding? What part of relaxing does that sound?”

  “Noted, though Mom seems to be handling her side with grace.”

  “Yes, poor woman.”

  “Mom loves you and has thick skin. Just enjoy your day.”

  “And how are you doing?” Eric softens his tone, his eyes settling on Kate. “I’m sorry, this has to be hard.”

  “It is what it is,” is all I say.

  Eric’s attention is shifted to his husband, my new brother-in-law. “Jesus Christ, I think we’re about to start the hora.”

  “But we aren’t Jewish?”

  “Exactly!” Eric throws back another drink. “I’ll see you later.”

  Eric’s leaves me to drink away my sorrows. The more scotch I drink, the more it all becomes evident. I’m a fucking idiot. I lost the best thing to happen to me because I was a pussy. I should’ve seized the day when Kate begged me to be exclusive. And look at me now, I’m nothing short of pathetic for obsessing over a woman who’s happily dancing in someone else’s arms. My behavior over the past year is shameful. I’d almost followed Kate’s every move, watching her from afar like a deranged stalker.

  “Excuse me, sir? What type of champagne are you serving?”

  A young woman stands next to me, resting her elbows on the bar. She waits patiently for the bartender, who has no fucking clue what he’s doing. With a flirty smile, he mumbles something which doesn’t seem to please her.

  The French accent rolling off her tongue is sexy as is the white dress she’s wearing with a deep neckline that sits perfectly covering her perky breasts. With only her side profile visible, her long honey-brown curls sit just above her waist.

  “Je suppose que le champagne n’est pas à ton gout?” I mention, hiding a smirk behind my glass.

  The young woman turns to face me, amused by my French, biting her lip as if she’s trying to hold something back. Unknowingly, my eyes are drawn to her bite, the way her pink lips appear so innocent and untouched.

  “Perhaps you’re right. The champagne isn’t to my taste,” she admits while drinking the entire glass with a slightly nervous glance. “L’Amérique est très différente.”

  “America is different,” I agree, with a nod. “Paris is beautiful. I have only fond memories.”

  “Oui, Paris is beautiful.” She sighs, though quickly catches herself and straightens her posture.

  “You miss it, I can tell.”

  “I do. It’s lonely here. I have friends, but it isn’t my home.”

  Her innocence is becoming, and with my mind ticking the same way it had done with Kate many years ago, I begged myself not to do it.

  You see, I have a gift of discovering people’s weaknesses and making their fantasies come alive. It’s made me rich, despite my ties to Allegra.

  But something warns me against it. I don’t have time to invest in opening up a world to someone else, not when the woman I love is standing a few feet away begging me to steal her away from a life she fell into because I pushed her.

  As for this young French woman, I’ll let her go. She needs to consider herself lucky. I know a good business opportunity when I see one, but something odd triggers inside my warped mind. She’d be eaten alive inside my club.

  She would be devoured by every greedy man for her innocence.

  I don’t know why I feel compelled to protect her from the enemy. She’s a total stranger. I didn’t even catch her name.

  “I’m sorry, how rude of me not to ask your name?”

  “Emile.” She clears her throat, extending her hand. “Emile Cadieux.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her with a polite smile. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  With an odd gaze, she presses her lips together as her chest heaves. Her cheeks turn crimson, the shade creeping across her face as I stare oddly, almost mesmerized.

  “And you, Dominic,” she simply responds.

  I tilt my head with a smirk before I walk off toward the gardens, desperate for solitude. The closer I edge toward the darkness and away from the party, I’m caught mid-step by a realization.

  I never said my name. How on earth does she know, then?”

  Swiftly, I turn around, my eyes reverting to the bar. She’s gone, only a few guests loitering while waiting to be served. Everyone else is mingling on the dance floor.

  I have to forget about this strange encounter. After all, she isn’t why I’m here.

  It’s finally time to win back what’s mine.

  And nothing, or no one, will stop me.

  Chapter Three

  Emile

  My chest rises an
d falls, the air barely attainable as I retreat to the bathroom to gather myself.

  The door is locked, and the outside noise is drowning in the large thumps from my racing heart.

  Just breathe.

  Moving toward the sink, my eyes lift to gaze at my reflection in the mirror. My skin is flushed, a shade of pink, which often overcomes me when I find myself in various situations. It has always embarrassed me, which only adds to my skin reacting, and usually, in front of other people.

  Turning the tap on, I wet my hand with cold water and splash some onto the back of my neck. Slowly, I begin to breathe normally, my skin returns to my normal color, and those runaway thoughts begin to clear.

  I lost my cool, almost gave myself up when I was supposed to be protecting my boss.

  Why, but why did I do that?

  I replay the encounter in my head. I’ve been around many men, professionally, of course, never once intimated by the egotistical persona they often displayed. To give myself credit, when it comes to work, I know how to handle myself.

  My personal life, however, is another story.

  Almost seven months of living in the States, and I’ve only dated two men, both of which ended after the first date. There’s a certain arrogance to American men, or in reverse, maybe the arrogance stems from me.

  I’m not looking for just sex or even just friendship. If I’m to be with a man, I want him to shake me to my core and make me feel like nothing else in the world matters. I’ve watched too many movies, binged on books with the idea that romance comes with so much more, and not some date to a pancake place with a two-for-one deal, where we talk about Star Wars.

  Then guilt soon follows, having only broken up with my ex, Jules, not long ago. We’d been in a relationship for four years and attempted the long-distance thing until it became too difficult. He’d also been my first.

  But I’m young, unwilling to settle down into marriage and children, everything Jules wants right now. The final ultimatum came with a marriage proposal—wed him or we’re over.

  He deserves a woman who can please him. I’m far from ready for that level of commitment, despite our lengthy relationship and the fact that I love him.

  Perhaps my lack of experience with men outside work has been my downfall. Jules is my age. We’d grown together from our teenage years, then through college. At twenty-four, we still had so much of the world to lose ourselves in.

  Dominic Kennedy, though, shouldn’t be part of that equation. A man, much older than me, an age-gap of easily ten years.

  My memory flashes back to the delicious smirk playing on his lips and the way his eyes creased behind his black reading glasses. I groan at the feeling passing between my thighs, blaming it on being around couples and drunk on cheap champagne. He’s sexy, yet possibly that sex appeal stems from him being untouchable.

  I learned of Dominic through Kate, my boss. I knew of his past, the elements of their relationship, though some parts still remain a mystery. The wedding and pairing of them in the bridal party left a very bitter taste in her mouth. Being the good friend she is, Kate agreed so that Eric could have his perfect wedding day.

  Her husband, Noah, didn’t take it as well. I had witnessed him inside the office lose his temper several times. I didn’t blame him, Dominic’s timing had been impeccable, and Kate, in a way, did nothing but ignore it.

  I still remember my conversation last week before we flew out to New York to commence the wedding celebrations.

  “Emile, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Noah closed my office door behind him, his expression anything but welcoming.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Mason?”

  Crossing his arms, his lips pursed tightly as the skin bunched up around his eyes. Whatever the issue was, it appeared serious and began to worry me.

  “I want… I need.” He cleared his throat. “For you to do something for me.”

  “Of course.”

  “I want you to keep a close eye on Dominic Kennedy this weekend.”

  I fell silent, uncomfortable with his request. “Um… sure.”

  “I know he will use the opportunity to get what he so desperately wants.”

  “Kate…” I trailed off.

  “Yes, my wife.” He gritted with a flinty stare. “I trust Kate. That isn’t the issue, but I refuse for her to be put in a position where she’s made to feel like a pawn in some twisted game he insists on playing. This is why I need your help.”

  “My help? I just thought you just wanted me to keep an eye on him?”

  “Yes, that, but perhaps you can keep your identity hidden and act as somewhat of a distraction,” he suggested in a persuasive tone.

  My mind began to jumble. Is he asking me to make love to Dominic? Is that what a distraction is? Surely, he wouldn’t request such a thing.

  “I’m… I don’t exactly understand what you mean by distraction?” I stammered.

  “You’re a beautiful young woman, Emile. Kate often speaks about the men wanting to date you. All I’m saying is that your beauty can prove a distraction for a man such as Dominic. If, let’s say, you were to use that to the advantage of this situation, it wouldn’t be so bad, now would it?”

  “No… I guess not.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Noah looked rather relieved by my acceptance. “I’m not asking you to do anything to compromise your integrity. A simple flirt at the bar can work wonders for a man.”

  It shouldn’t be a big deal. ’I’ve flirted with men before. Flirting can be harmless,

  but as I stand there with him, knowing all his dirty secrets, having somewhat kept tabs on him over the past week through Eric, I can’t help but find myself enamored with his charisma.

  The man is nothing like I had conjured up in my mind or the monster Kate had painted him to be. All that stood beside me was this unbelievably gorgeous man who spoke to me in French, my language I had missed so dearly.

  I give myself a few more minutes before someone knocks on the door needing to use the bathroom.

  The wedding continues, and speeches are made by Eric and Tristan only. They are heartfelt speeches with humor because Eric knows exactly how to make a crowd laugh. Shortly, the cake is cut, and people fill the dance floor again.

  Scanning the area, I spot Dominic on the dance floor with a woman I saw him with earlier. The woman, dressed in a designer gold gown, is very beautiful. She places her hand on his chest, though, and appears annoyed rather than happy to be dancing with him.

  Removing my gaze from them to wash away the unsettling feeling, I linger at the bar by myself.

  “Emile!” Kate moves toward me, out of breath. “Come join us?”

  I offer a smile. “Sure.”

  I join them on the dance floor for a while, a circle forming, including my big boss, Mr. Edwards, and his wife, Charlie. Eric dances over as does Tristan. We dance and laugh, enjoying the night until Eric requests that I join the single females to catch the prize. Traditionally, a bouquet is thrown. Eric insisted on traditions, though instead of a bouquet, he carries a small black box in his hands.

  It’s humiliating, mostly since there are only seven of us who are single out of the hundreds attending. I force a smile, purposely distancing myself from the other girls to avoid it all until the box hits my temple, prompting everyone to cheer.

  Great, even more embarrassing.

  “Open it!” Eric roars with laughter.

  Biting my tongue with a contrived smile, I snap open the black box to find two silver balls.

  ‘What’s this?” I ask, lifting them out.

  “Oh honey,” Eric cackles with his arm over my shoulder. “I have a lot of wisdom to part on you.”

  The moment he says it, my eyes flick upward catching Dominic’s stare. I quickly divert my eyes, touching my forehead, then shutting the box. “Thanks, I look forward to it,” is all I mumble before scurrying off the dance floor.

  When the males have their turn, surprisi
ng, there are at least thirty of them, and many of them gay. One of the only straight guys catches another black box, though I refuse to see what the box contains. Judging by the continuous laughter, it’s something equally as embarrassing as my prize.

  And another unfortunate tradition—the coupling of the two single winners in an awkward dance.

  The man introduces himself as Richard. I smile politely upon his introduction, offering my name in return while trying to ignore the way he often glances at my breasts with wide eyes.

  “You’re beautiful and young,” he confesses, his hands resting low enough on my back to graze against my ass. “I like young women.”

  What kind of comment is that?

  “I’m twenty-four. It’s not that young,” I state, without the friendly smile.

  “Sweetheart, I’m twice divorced and old enough to be your father.” He leans in and whispers in my ear. “But I’d love to fuck that sweet little pussy of yours. I bet you’re still a virgin.”

  I pull away, mortified at his blatant ignoring of social decency. My hands drop to my sides while he doesn’t let go. The force of my hips causes his hands to fall, much to his disappointment.

  “Excuse me, but I have somewhere I need to be.”

  “Like where?”

  “Anywhere besides near you.”

  I make my way to the bar, desperate for a drink to erase the humiliation. Needing something more potent, I demand the bartender serve me whatever he has that could be served in shots.

  A bottle of tequila comes out and poured into two shot glasses. I count quietly to myself, downing the first, then the second. I wince at the taste but ignore the sensation.

  “Again,” I tell him.

  “Are you sure? Earlier on, you were drinking champagne. The two don’t exactly mix well,” the bartender warns.

  “The same could be said about me and a man old enough to be my father.”

  “Very well,” he mumbles while serving another. “This is the last one.”