Setting the gift on the coffee table, I grab my laptop and open the lid. While I wait for it to boot, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and flop onto the sofa. Once I’m logged in, I open the browser and the website where I was chatting to the stranger last night.
There’s still no response from him, but I decide to make it known that I’m freaked the hell out.
Vera: Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but leaving gifts on my front mat is a sure way to scare the living shit out of me. If it was you, just tell me. I wouldn’t be mad if you tracked me down. I just need to know.
After I hit send, I pick up the bracelet again. I must admit it’s beautiful. The golden chain is delicate and lovely, and the rose is so realistic. I can’t help but smile, even as fear twists in my gut.
I’m always careful when I log onto the web. I make sure I use a VPN and never give out information about who I am, or even my real name. I’ve seen far too many reality shows where girls are kidnapped, stolen from their homes because they gave out far too much personal information to a stranger online.
That’s not me.
I’m not stupid. I know the risks I took by signing up on that site. Anonymous Meet-Ups was nothing more than me quelling the need for company. And I’ve never even had the courage to meet anyone from there.
As my gut churns with nerves, I wait for the ding to come through. But he doesn’t respond. I make coffee. I can’t eat lunch because my nerves have gotten hold of me, twisting in my gut, and all the while, nothing. While I attempt to work on my assignment, the bracelet lies on the table, glaring at me with accusations I feel right down to my core.
Can it really be him?
Or am I losing my mind?
3
Logan
She’s so beautiful. More so than I ever thought possible. When she runs, she’s exquisite, like a gazelle, appealing to my beast that’s beating down the caged door I’ve kept him in for so long. A temptation. I didn’t think I would come here. When my contact gave me the details after he searched for her, I stared at them for so long. Realizing I lived merely five hours away shocked me. We were so close, practically neighbors and I didn’t know.
I waited two long years to finally see her again. But today, I couldn’t stifle my need for her anymore. I got in the car and drove all night until I stopped at the small coffee shop in town.
I waited. I watched. And then she appeared.
Amongst the trees, she reminds me of a princess lost in the woods, seeking the wolf. Would she be afraid if she knew I was right here? I haven’t checked the website today, but now that I’m in my hotel room, I open my laptop and log into the Wi-Fi before opening the browser.
The message alerts come through the moment I’m on. Two from her. I read both, twice, then a third time to make sure I’ve read them correctly. She got my gift, but she also told me she wanted to start over. I’m not sure why she would feel the need to say that.
I wonder how to proceed. Do I tell her I’m here? That I’m watching her? No. That’s creepy like she said in her message. But she doesn’t understand how much I needed to know her. Even if it’s from afar.
I can live with that. Perhaps I should leave. But even as I think it, I know I won’t. I can’t. Not yet. Sighing, I hover my fingers over the keyboard and smile when I type out my response.
Logan: I must apologize for scaring you. I didn’t mean to. My . . . work . . . allows me certain perks, and finding people is one of them. Like I found you. I’m not going to make contact with you again until you ask me to. But I needed you to have the rose, just like Sleeping Beauty did in the story as she slept. I’m not right as I told you, and the conventional ways of doing things don’t really appeal to me. So, I have my own way. I hope I haven’t truly scared you off. If I have, I wish you well. My Beauty.
I hit send and shut the laptop before I can go back and send her more messages. I shouldn’t have come here. My mind is a mess of thoughts that seem to all dance together, making life more difficult and painful to deal with.
My phone vibrates, and I know it’s my mother checking up on me again. I haven’t responded to her in two weeks; surely, she’s gotten the hint by now. I can’t go home, and I can’t communicate with her. My father would be watching all messages, emails, and calls that come through. And I can’t put her in any danger.
Shutting my phone off, I grab my keys and wallet and head downstairs. On the street, I turn left instead of right, because I know if I do, I’ll end up outside her door. As much as I’d love to see her in person, face-to-face, and allow her to look at me, to see me, I can’t.
Not yet.
Not until she’s replies and tells me to come to her.
The town is pretty enough, with shops, cafés, and even a small bookstore, where I duck in and get out of the cool breeze and rain that’s suddenly started pelting down. The lady behind the desk smiles, and I offer her a nod. Most people in such a small, far-off town won’t recognize me, and I’m thankful that my beauty doesn’t live in a city where my father’s influence can be felt for miles.
Being the son of an influential family in this country had its perks, but I walked out of that life. I don’t ever want to go back. Since the moment I stepped foot out of the mansion, my father’s blood money built; I’m no longer considered his son.
Herbert Phillip Oakridge—otherwise known as King of Chicago by running his own import and export business and playing the stock market; he’s built an empire. Years have gone by, and my father has embezzled millions, yet the police turn a blind eye.
Thankfully, Daddy’s influence has allowed me perks and being able to seek out this beautiful stranger, this princess, has been one of the more positive things I’ve done using his contacts.
My father may share my name, or I share his, but deep down, he would pull the trigger himself if he knew I was doing this shit again. He’s allowed me certain freedoms, but I have a feeling if he were to find me, I wouldn’t survive walking away from him. Which means I need to be more secretive about my actions.
I close my eyes and think back to only a few hours ago, reminded of her beauty. Even though it’s not visible in her profile photo on the website, I can now recall her lithe, slightly curvy figure as she ran through the woods. It’s been a long while since I’ve felt this connection. And I know I can’t let it pass.
I will make her mine.
One way or another.
I’ll ensure she’s in my arms, in my bed, and I won’t let her go. I pick up a book from the shelf and scan the back of it, but my mind is not focused when the bell above the door chimes.
It’s been a long while since I’ve been around so many people at once. My cabin is quiet. And I enjoy the silence, more so than the ramblings of strangers.
“Hi, how are you?” The soft, melodic voice stills me. My heart hammers against my rib cage, and I hold my breath, waiting for more of her voice. I know it’s her. Somehow, I can feel her.
“I’m doing all right, darling. What can I do for you today?” the older lady asks her with a smile, hinting in her tone.
“I’m looking for anything dark and foreboding. Like crime thrillers?”