Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kristen
Antoine prepares my favorite breakfast the next day—crunchy cereal with chopped dried fruit and nuts. We didn’t talk about my proposal after our omelets yesterday. It’s like I never brought up a fake marriage, and thank God it’s not spoiling what we have.
“Dominic and Liza are going to be home today,” I say, after finishing half my coffee with a happy sigh or two. I could get used to this scene—sharing the first meal of the day with him. And unlike during the week, he’s relaxed and casual—in a white T-shirt and shorts, his hair sticking up in a few places. He couldn’t be sexier or more handsome or…anything.
He polishes off the last of his bacon. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’ve been thinking that I should probably go back to my apartment. The entire #PedHo thing is over, and that horde of paparazzi is gone.” I give a silent toast to juicier scandals, the current one involving a local politician who got caught propositioning an undercover vice cop. “And it’s sort of awkward to live with a newly wedded couple, you know?”
“I do, but I don’t think it’s wise. Your place isn’t really safe. They only have one security camera, in the entryway to the building, and it doesn’t even work… The area isn’t the best, either.”
“It isn’t the worst.”
“No, it isn’t, but I don’t like it. And neither will Dominic once he hears what I think.”
“Well, I can’t afford to move. That place is the best I could get. And I may not even be able to keep it unless I get another job soon.”
“Who cares about a new job? Use your trust. That’s what it’s for.”
“Of course it is. Dominic gave it to you.”
“But I didn’t earn it. And I feel weird about spending it.”
“How you feel is irrelevant. The trust is in your name, which makes it your money.”
“Yeah, something my brother did behind my back without discussing it with me first, which doesn’t automatically make it my money. If you’re that worried about my safety, why don’t you move in with me?”
Antoine looks at me like I just told him that I’m really a pacifist Klingon who deserted her army and got asylum on Earth because I happen to be the BFF with the Pope. But there’s something more. I narrow my eyes, studying Antoine’s face until I realize what it is. Oh my God, he’s scandalized.
What the hell? This is the twenty-first century. It isn’t like I proposed marriage again. A fake one, I mean. Argh. What am I even thinking?
On the other hand, maybe he thinks we’re moving too fast…? We were in a cold war—with him playing a douchebag and me going on a date with another guy.
And what do I know about a relationship in which one person moves too fast? Yeah, it ends badly because the person who doesn’t want to move so fast starts getting second thoughts. Or freaks out. Sometimes both. “Just kidding. I wouldn’t want you to move in even if you wanted to. It’s too early.” Then I add a little laugh to ease the tension. Except from Antoine’s expression, I’ve failed.
Just then, the intercom buzzes. I get to my feet. “I got it.”
I flee to the door. A flower delivery. Huh.
I stare at another gorgeous bouquet of red roses. Did Dominic order them for Liza? But he isn’t the type to get clichéd flowers. He would’ve sent something stunning and unexpected.
The delivery guy is a kid in a black skeleton T-shirt. He shoves a small tablet in my face. “Sign here, please.”
I scrawl my name on the screen, then hand him a few bucks from the change jar near the foyer Dominic keeps for tips. “Who sent these?”
The kid shrugs his skinny shoulders. “Dunno. I just deliver the flowers, don’t ask who they’re from. I think there’s a card, though.” He turns and disappears into the elevator.
Frowning, I bring the bouquet inside. Definitely not from Dominic. He wouldn’t have included a card. Red roses are my Number One Admirer’s choice of flowers. If he wants to be persistent, why is he sending them here rather than to my apartment?
Unless he knows I’m here… Ugh. Freak!
“Who are those from?” Antoine asks, staring narrow-eyed at the flowers.
I shrug. “One of my many admirers, probably.”
His mouth tight, Antoine reaches over, plucks the card from the bouquet and rips it open. His frown deepens, but the venom in his eyes dissipates—a little.
“What the hell is this?” he says, waving the card.
I take it and read it.
Don’t be so picky, my love. Be grateful for everything I’ve given you. You have no idea what grand plans I have for us.
–Your Number One Admirer
“This isn’t Amour,” he says.
“No, it’s someone new. It started after that tabloid article. I’m sure it’s just one of my coworkers having fun at my expense or something.” I don’t say anything about the creepy work picture. Antoine wouldn’t take it well, and things are already sort of awkward at the moment.
“Then what’s this shit about not being so picky?”
“I threw out the other flowers that he sent. And I guess he saw and got annoyed.”
“Do you know who? Suspect anybody?”
“No, not re—” Preston. He was the only one who saw me toss the flowers. And he looked and sounded kind of upset, questioning and talking to me the whole time.
“Preston!”
“Who?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s just an intern, completely harmless. It’s probably some weird college kid prank.” It makes perfect sense. Preston moves around all the time from department to department, floor to floor, and I bet he heard everything there is to know about me. He’s a bit intense, but he isn’t crazy enough to do anything.
Antoine doesn’t look reassured. “Every sociopath seems harmless until he actually does something.”
“Of course. I know that better than anyone.” My cousin Andy was normal, too. Until he decided he was tired of being normal.
“Then you should take this more seriously.”
“What you want me to do? Call the cops again? But what am I gonna tell them? ‘Oh, officer, I feel so threatened by roses.’ Sending somebody flowers isn’t exactly a crime, even if there’s a creepy note attached. Besides, Preston isn’t the type to get in your face. And these”—I gesture at the flowers—“are just his way of letting me know he’s annoyed and upset I threw his flowers out. I’m not going to worry about it.”
“Or it’s a sign that he’s becoming obsessed with you. There were lots of roses delivered to your apartment as well.”
“There were?”
“Yup. I’ve been checking up on your place, just to make sure.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m going to take care of your other stalkers soon, too.” Antoine frowns. “Anyway, this is the reason I don’t want you going home at the moment. Okay, fine, Preston might just be some harmless college kid being stupid. But I’m not taking any chances.”
“All right. But just so you know, I’m not staying with Dominic and Liza forever. I hate feeling like a third wheel.”
“I just want to make sure you’re safe.” He reaches out and holds my hand. “Everyone wants you safe, Kristen.”
I nod. But all this talk of returning to my place is moot if I can’t find a job soon. Without a steady paycheck, I’m going to get evicted. I should pretty up my résumé and start sending it out this evening.
My phone rings. I grab it, then pause. The call is from Lola.