Chapter Four
Sunlight is peering through the sheer curtain when I open my eyes. “Shit.” I stub my toe on the leg of the table as I stumble over to shut off any light from entering my room. My sister must’ve opened them when she was over last night. “Damnit Carli.”
I step into the bathroom to do my business and catch a glimpse of the whore in the mirror. Jesus, I hope I didn’t look like this last night on the dance floor. Surely not. I mean my mascara now resembles war paint in its worst ever appearance. My hair is all over the place, but my bra and panties are cute as hell. It looks like I should be taking that walk of shame from being thoroughly fucked all night, only I slept alone. What can I say… I toss and turn when I sleep. My covers show proof of that when I hit the light switch to find my phone.
It’s not until I move my lap top that I find both of them tucked under the covers. I hate that I check Mr. Darkness’ phone before I check my own, and I really hate how I feel disappointed when there isn’t a message from him. Or hell, even a missed call. Minus the creep factor this guy did jump into the middle of a fight to help my sister. He can’t be a terrible person when it was obvious he acted on instinct in that exact moment. A real dick would’ve kept dancing with the girl he’s been trying to get to all day and turn away from the scene that would end the night.
I’m still in deep thought when I hear my phone vibrate.
Mr. Darkness: Good morning, Camille.
I know it’s him. He’s the only person in the world who would call me Camille. My heart starts to race as I realize he has now somehow found out my cell phone number. Jesus, does the man really have no boundaries? Even though my stupid face is lit up with a smile as I reply.
Me: How did you get my number?
Mr. Darkness: I have connections. Plus, your sister gave it to the manager of my club so we could check on our customers who were innocent victims in an attack last night. Call it protocol, but that’s something that we do.
Me: Really? Do you usually message them all personally?
Mr. Darkness: Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the only person I’ve done this sort of thing for. I’m not even usually in my establishments to witness anything. Now which one of these is your apartment?
Me: What do you mean?
Mr. Darkness: I mean I’m here at your apartment with breakfast, now tell me which door to knock on.
Holy shit… I look like absolute hell and there’s no way I can let him see me like this. I run to my bathroom sink in a panic and exhale out a loud whoosh of air as I take in just how long it’ll take me to look presentable enough to let him see me.
Me: No. Today isn’t a good day, so you’ll just have to find someone else to take breakfast to.
Mr. Darkness: Fine. I’ll get the apartment manager to tell me. Something tells me he’ll give me your apartment number.
Shit. Why do I believe him? Because knowing the way this guy has been… he probably owns the buildings. Or at least has enough money to buy the information.
Me: Why are you impossible?
Mr. Darkness: You answer that one first.
Me: What if you’re a serial killer?
Mr. Darkness: Then I wouldn’t call you to let me in, I’d just catch you by surprise.
Me; I have to shower, so you’ll need to wait until I’m done.
Mr. Darkness: Well, hurry. Your eggs are getting cold.
Me: Apartment number seven. I’ll text you when I’m done.
I strip off the bra and panties as I finish typing the last message. Who knows what he’ll do to get inside, so I lock the bathroom door, just in case. The water is cold when I step in, trying to rush this all along I start with my face. I can deal with wet, clean hair… but this makeup has to come off quick. A normal person would’ve taken it off last night, but my mind was busy thinking about everything that had happened yesterday.
Reaching for my face wash, I begin doubting my own sanity for even considering letting him into my apartment. I haven’t had any visitors here since I moved in, except my sister and I’ve liked that privacy. Now I feel him invading all of my space at such a rapid speed, I’m not sure I can deal with his way of doing things.
Wrapping a towel around my body, I rush to the steamy mirror to see if my face is clear of the war paint. Just another swipe under my eyes helps, but I still look like a woman who was rode hard and put up wet with my stringy hair falling over my shoulders. I hear a knock at the door just as I enter my bedroom.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Me: Impatient much?
Mr. Darkness: You have no idea how patient I am.
Me: Well, practice that a little longer, I’m still in a towel.
Mr. Darkness: I don’t mind breakfast with a view if you don’t.
Chills surge over my body as his dry way of flirting reminds me of how he touched me last night as we danced at the club. Not giving in to his persistent ways, I take my time finding the most homely yoga pants and long t-shirt to wear. I even brush my hair a few times before I go to open the door for him.
The second I turn the latch; the knob rotates and he pushes through the door with a crew of servants behind him. “Set up the table over here… wait… I see her bedroom has more space in it. Put it next to that window over there.” He’s wearing a suit again. His serious demeanor has me watching his reactions as he takes in my apartment. He stands in the doorway of my bedroom, adjusting his cuffs and looking like perfection while the chaos of cleaning goes on behind him. He turns to look at me and with a sexy smirk, he begins to move toward me.
“Camille, you look gorgeous.”
“Ok, now I know you’re insane.” I step around the bar to put something between us and start to make coffee. He stands next to the counter and I can feel his stare burning through me.
“You do realize I didn’t sleep at all last night planning this day for us.”
“What made you assume I didn’t have plans?”
“I didn’t assume anything. You can change your plans if you have them.” I scoff at his response just as his servants all come to him for further guidance.
“What’s all of this about?” I wave my hand toward the people standing in my living room staring at us as if they’re waiting for permission to breathe.
“You may all go. Thank you.” He follows them to the door as they all leave my apartment and then locks the door behind them. “I think we can both agree that you were never going to meet me anywhere to talk… so I decided to come to you.”
“You don’t know.” He smiles at my defensive response. “Ok, you’re possibly right, but can you blame me? You’re a very…” I pause to think of a better word than creepy, “determined person and I’m just not used to dealing with someone like you. I work alone for a reason you know.” I walk into my bedroom to find my bed made and my dress from last night folded at the foot, my lacy bra and panties sprawled out next to it. Rushing to hide the lace, I ignore the material that catches my eye to the left. “Jesus, can a girl have some privacy.”
“Don’t worry. They’re used to it. I had my assistant note your sizes so I can send you some gifts.” My eyes pull to a dress hung on the door frame of my closet, hooker heels in three colors on the floor beneath. I walk closer to find the back is completely cut out of the dress and start to laugh.
“There’s no damn way I’m wearing that.”
“Camille. It’s going to look perfect on you, trust me. This is my expertise.”
“So you barge into women’s homes and get the size of their panties and bras… That’s not something you should really be bragging about you know.”
“Not just bra and panties, my dear.”
“I don’t know whether to call the cops or just throw you out. Something tells me the cops won’t find anything wrong with what you’ve done… do you own them too?”
“No.” Why is he so confident? His posture is perfect as he walks to the table he had brought in. He pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit in it… even though I try to give him the stand-off he deserves, I find myself moving to sit in the chair. His dominance is heavy and his persistence is annoying, but maybe if I just listen to what he has to say… he’ll leave me alone.