Stalker Daddy: Villain Daddies

Chapter One

Chapter One

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Fia

“Hey, kid. How’re you doing?”

I stop picking at the blanket when the curtain to the hospital room slides open, and the metal rings scraping across the bar are deafening as I glance up.

Cyrus has been my bodyguard since I was eighteen. My manager had hired him for protection when I started to get fan mail, but she said it was a normal practice that reduces unnecessary risks.

I’m a violinist. I don’t think anyone would care enough about someone who hasn’t even made a name for herself. I was wrong though, one particular man who signs his name as “Six” has continuously amped his wording in the letters he would send over the years.

It has gotten worse because this time, he had actually physically harmed me by ramming his car into my manager’s with me in the passenger seat. He sped off with no licenses plate and a car that looked too plain for any distinctive markings.

I didn’t know about cars, and neither did my manager so we couldn’t give much information to the police that came to the scene.

“I’m okay,” I say while lifting my forearm that’s been bandaged by a very patient nurse who assured me that I was in good hands.

Cyrus leans on the side rail and sighs; the wrinkles near his eyes are deeper than I remember from yesterday.

“I’m sorry, kid. I should’ve been there.” His lips tighten, and regret flushes his face.

I put my hand on top of his and shake my head. “It’s just a scratch.”

He breathes heavily, eyes gazing at the monitor on the other side that echoes with my heartbeat. “Alana’s chemo is working better now. I can come back to work tomorrow.”

He told me that he planned to retire with his wife after his army days, but then Alana got sick with cancer, and his pension couldn’t cover the cost. Cyrus picked up the security detail from my manager, and it was the right choice because as more sponsors come for me, the more money I can pay him for his protection.

We have grown closer, and I care about his wife so much. I would do anything to help them. Alana is the motherly figure who makes me less lonely, and Cyrus is the bossy dad. Being with them has given me much-needed warmth, more than the empty house with my overbearing parents.

All they care about is the money they are making in their own company. They never cared much about me, and they are extremely disappointed when they found out that I was more interested in a violin than a pen scribbling down my signature on contracts.

Then the big break happened, and overnight fame came crashing down on me, and they suddenly became the concerned parents that they never were. I stopped talking to them a while back, and I hadn’t regretted it because it was their toxicity that didn’t allow me to pursue my passion.

I was over eighteen, and they couldn’t legally stop me from leaving. Living on my own is tough, but I manage just fine. I have Cyrus as fatherly protection, Alana as the bookkeeper and surrogate mother, and my manager, who is so anal-retentive that she whipped me into shape about the curse of fortune.

Alana wanted to work because she can’t just let her husband take on the burden of her chemotherapy cost, and everything works out fine. She’s handling my money with such care, and I can focus on my music.

“Fia?” A hand on my shoulder shakes me.

I snap out of my thoughts. “What?”

“Did you hear what I said?” He chuckles and rubs the back of my skull comfortingly. His hand is warm, supportive, and it calms the adrenaline in my blood.

Getting almost mowed down by a maniac is going to make me a bit dazed, but I’m in safe hands right now. I have no reason to think that the stalker will be back so soon since we are surrounded by professional doctors and police officers.

Not to mention the gentle giant named Cyrus.

“No, sorry,” I say with a sheepish smile. “What did you say?”

He opens his mouth, but then the curtain slides open again to reveal Mr. Vito. He’s a friend and a war brother of Cyrus. Vito has is aura on him: menacing, domineering, and very controlling. Cyrus introduced him to me about three years ago when I was nineteen, and it was also the time when the stalker had gotten bolder.

“I’m taking care of you.” Vito closes the curtain behind him as he stands at the foot of the bed.

He makes me nervous, and he knows that. He neither points it out nor does he really care. Well, he cares because he has done so much for me when Alana’s chemotherapy didn’t go as well as we hoped, and he would take on the responsibility of protecting me while Cyrus stayed with his wife.

It’s not a perfect system, but it works. I see him around a lot because he’s Cyrus’ friend and also a persistent presence in my heart.

Being in love with a man twenty years my senior is not exactly ‘love at first sight’ because it sounds more like stereotypical gold-digging. Vito was a commander in the army, but he retired just a couple of years ago when Cyrus became my bodyguard.

It was a weird coincidence that he left the army when my stalker had tried to break into my home. Well, I guess anyone can retire at any time.

I glance over to Cyrus, who nods with a smile. “Really?”

I’m not sure what I’m doubting. I am practically squealing in my head at the chance to spend time with Vito, but I’m also concerned that I’m bothering him.

“You don’t have to…” I murmur, snapping my eyes down at the blanket as my fingers twist in it.

“My manager—she can find—”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Vito says, clipped and definitive.

Cyrus chuckles and pats my hand before leaving us in silence. My heartbeat should slow down before the doctors come in to check why the monitor is going crazy.

I’m shy around him, and that is an unarguable point that I wish I can change, but I feel like I’m in high school again, where I had this crush on a senior. I always knew I had a taste for older men, but I never expected to fall in love with a man who is twenty years older than me.

He probably sees me as this awkward kid with no social life and an awful grasp on being an adult. I broke through my twenties not long ago, and I don’t have much experience to shape me into a functioning adult, but I’m learning, and I’m trying.

Vito comes to stand next to me, taking my wrist and examining the bandaged forearm. It just scrapes from the friction of the door when my body slammed against it.

His eyes narrow, the stormy gray in his eyes and the obsidian bleakness of his hair, the raging anger in his eyes breaches the transition between irate and fury.

“Did you get a look at him?” he asks, but I find it to be a demand more than anything.

I shake my head, memories flashing in my mind of the incident. My manager and I didn’t know where the car came from, but all I knew at that point were the ringing in my ears and the cloudy dizziness in my eyes.

“Nothing?” He tries again, coiling his fingers around my jaw to turn me to the side.

It’s the only injury and thank goodness it’s only just that was on my forearm. It shouldn’t affect my ability to practice music, but the doctor had convinced me to give my forearm time to heel since it’s going to be sore and itchy.

The less strain I put on, the faster it heals, so that means I can perform better.

“No, I didn’t see anything,” I answer with my eyes finding his neck instead. The scar on it is still visible, but it’s an old one and deep by the looks of it.

Vito puts my arm down and nods understandingly. I’m not from a military background; it’s not my skill to look at things through keen eyes. My ears work better than my eyes because my hearing picks up on the slightest shifts of the music notes, but I can’t distinguish if there was a gorilla walking in the background of a video.

I remember one of my sociology teachers had played that video, and I was so shocked that I couldn’t pinpoint when the gorilla had walked past the screen.

“What did you hear?” he asks with that change of question.

I gulp nervously, and my body trembles at the traumatic experience. His hand drops on mine, squeezing with a sense of calmness that takes over my erratic heart. Vito’s hand is calloused and rough, but that is the only thing I need to find my breathing again.

I don’t want to disappoint him, so I think back, and I find something that wasn’t too noticeable when I was hit.

“Um,” I stutter and peer at him through my lashes. “I heard a song; it’s called Thirteenth’s Rhythm.”

His gray eyes narrow in skepticism. “Your composition?”

“Yeah,” I murmur with meekness. “It’s a dedication to Medusa when I was a lot more into Greek mythology.”

“I know. It’s a six-course music composition that takes forty-five minutes to finish. It’s also your first break with fame and into the music world as a professional musician.”

His praise swells my heart with pride as a smile rips through my lips. My eyes are nearly bulging out as my happiness thumps in my chest, and the heart monitor mimics my feelings rather embarrassingly loud.

“How’d you know?” I take the chance to ask.

He cocks an eyebrow, features reeling back to neutral as the nurses come running in. “I have noticed you before your success.”

His encrypted words bring confusion to me, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it before the nurses ask me what is going on. I try to assure them that I was fine and that it was nothing, but they still want to check my heart with a stethoscope.

The doctor scowls at me with a squint of her eyes, and I shoot her a sheepish smile.

She wraps the instrument back around her neck and begins to unhook me from the machine. “I don’t see anything wrong with your tests, so you should be able to go home today.”

She takes the tablet from the nurse and scans over the screen with a smile. “And your discharge papers have been approved. You’re all set.”

I thank her, and Vito nods his gratitude. Before she leaves, I have to ask about my manager since her side of the car had taken most of the damage.

“Is she okay?”

The doctor nods. “Yes, and she wants me to relay the message that she needs to do her physical here too so you may return home without her.”

“Oh,” I say absentmindedly.

I’m glad she’s alright. I don’t know what I would have done if she had suffered life-threatening injuries because of a stalker that no one has been able to catch. My stalker seems to be tech-savvy since he had been able to track my address every time I move, and he once got through my security in the backyard until he had been scared off by another layer of hidden sensors.

“There may not be a concussion from the accident, but I would advise you strongly to not come in contact with strong vibrations.”

I open my mouth to object because that would be impossible, I have to practice on my violin, and that has massive vibrations for my ears. Vito clenches my hand; a look of unspeakable domination sets on his hard face.

“I will return your belongings to your husband.” The doctor smiles and turns to leave the room.

I jerk up from the hospital bed. “Wait, he’s not—”

Vito pushes me back down, his lips twisting with a snarl as he reprimands me. “Stay still, Fia. Don’t make your injuries worse.”

“But—” I start to protest, but his big hand clenches on mine in a painfully hard grip.

“Listen to the doctor,” Vito commands with a voice of authority.

Cyrus has that voice too, but it can’t beat Vito’s because my body locks up the tension under my skin to force the obedience to happen. He must have had years of practice from being a commander, but he can be on the lowest rank and still make the higher-ups sweat bullets.

The doctor comes back in with my backpack and a suitcase. I furrow my brows in question, and the doctor sees the suspicion on my face before she smiles.

“This is your husband’s. He was very worried about you that he left this in the waiting area.”

I want to tell her that he’s not my husband no matter how much I want it to be true, but I’m more concerned about the suitcase that clearly isn’t mine. As humiliating as it is to say, all of mine have colorful decorations on them so I can tell which one is mine right off the bat.

It’s for convenience, and that defeats humiliation.

“Alright, I don’t want to see you back in here,” the doctor warns lightly with a finger up, and her kind words wash away a layer of shivers from my spine.

She leaves, and I immediately turn to Vito, his hand still holding mine rather painfully. A look of complete livid rage and haunting grayness as he’s in deep thought about something he’ll most likely not tell me.

For my own good, as Cyrus and Vito would always say when they keep something from me.

“Are you leaving?” I ask, a twinge of panic in my voice. “Where are you going? Why are—”

“Quiet,” he says, and my throat involuntarily closes. “We’re going off the grid for a while until the stalker is found.”

He knows that the stalker had been getting too bold, and today is a testament to how deranged the man is. My manager and I were lucky that we only got minor scratches instead of being in operation rooms.

The stalker knew where I was going to be and that required excessive planning and surveillance because Cyrus hasn’t been sticking to any schedule that my manager had set to prevent predictable harm coming to me.

We do stick to the schedule of performances, but my daily life routine has been switched and altered without disrupting everything that’s happening in our lives.

“What do you mean ‘off the grid’?” I’m scared to ask, but I need to know.

“Leave everything electronic.” His clarification does nothing to settle the bundle of nerves under my skin.

“The only way to guarantee he isn’t hacking your information is to leave them, and this way, it will tell us whether he is physically or electronically following you.”

He has a point, and if he thinks it’s the best idea, then I should be able to function for a couple of days without my phone or laptop. It’s going to be hard, but I think it’ll give me undivided attention on my music.

“Okay,” I agree with a jerky nod.

He seemed surprised when I say that. “I expected more nonsense from you.”

I puff out my cheeks, indignant with slight grouchiness. “I can’t argue with you. You’re looking out for me. Besides, I trust you.”

Vito goes quiet, and I’m scared I said something wrong. What if I offended him? I don’t see how, but human nature is a complex thing that even scientists have a hard time getting to know on a deeper level.

“I-I mean, Cyrus said you’re a good guy, and you never hurt me before, so you probably wouldn’t hurt me now.” I pause with a thick gulp. “Right?”

His body straightens, and his hand leaves mine as he regards me with an intensive stare. The quick pulses in my neck sympathize with the scar on his neck as his lips twitch, gray eyes gleaming with passing questionable emotions.

“I would never hurt you.”

His words are comforting as I smile, nodding in agreement with this new change in my life. While it is nerve-wracking to live with me, I would think that spending time with him trumps the fear of the stalker.

“Come, we’re leaving.”

Now? So soon?

“I have to pack,” I say, but my words trail off as he tips his head to the suitcase.

“It’s done,” he confirms as he takes my shoes from the corner to the bed. He lowers the rail and takes the blanket off my lap.

I still have the clothes from before, and they didn’t cut them off, so that’s good. Vito makes me sit on the edge while he kneels down to put my shoes on. The heat from his palm on my feet burns through my socks.

The pair of socks have little cheese prints on them. He says nothing, and I’m thankful to him for not making me feel self-conscious about my socks. They are gifts from one of the employees that makes sure my performances go flawlessly.

I treasure every gift from those who are close to me, but I’m cautious when my fans send them. Although some of them truly have good intentions, it’s better to be careful than sorry.

Vito helps me off the bed, and my knees buckle for a moment. I collapse in his arms with a gasp of surprise. I pull myself up with a heavy breath, eyes wide with startled shock and weak knees.

The rush of blood is not a joke. This happens when I sit for too long and stand up too abruptly.

Vito lets me get used to standing on my own before he holds out a hand silently, demanding that I use him as support. I could never deny him of anything, so I put my hand in his, and he closes his thick fingers around my smaller ones.

Other than the age gap between us, his size is another vast difference from mine while his intelligence and strength are a force to be reckoned with.

“How long are we going to be away?” I ask, curious and desperate for a timeline.

“For as long as it takes to ensure your safety.” His answer is as vague as it’s going to get.

He has a point. Every day my stalker is out there; every day is a battlefield. I’m not sure I could win against someone who is determined to hurt me, but I have Cyrus and Vito with me.

Vito holds my hand, guiding me out from behind the curtain and into the bright emergency room. It’s busy with people coming in and out, but that’s expected from a high-stress job.

Those who we walk past look at us with interest because he and I are too different that I fear that we’re a spectacle. His hand tightens as he rolls the suitcase with my backpack on top.

I stick close to him, almost too close, but he doesn’t push me away.

“Your husband is so sweet,” the doctor that treated me comes up to me with a clipboard and a smile.

I sputter, “He’s not—”

Vito tugs me to his side more and simultaneously cuts off my words. “Don’t talk to anyone and stay close.”

I nod with a wave to the nurses and the doctor. This is going to be an interesting trip.