Stalker Daddy: Villain Daddies

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

___________

Fia

It was a rough night of sleep, considering what had happened last night. Vito had checked out the diagnosis on the security system that he had, and he found that there was no damage to it.

Ninety percent of me knows for a fact that it’s the stalker. I just knew it because he has been a persistent presence that scared me for years, but the police couldn’t do anything about it because he hasn’t done anything to hurt me other than send letters.

The time that he had tried to break into my home was the first time the police took it seriously, but then it just died off because they had more urgent cases that needed their attention.

I had consulted with Cyrus about having more security, and he agreed with me, but at this point, the stalker could be anyone, so we couldn’t take that risk either.

He suggested Vito as my other bodyguard, but then he thought about it since Vito tends to disappear a lot because of his work. I heard something about a mix between private investigators and government contracts.

I could be wrong, and they could just be rumors circling around. Honestly, I don’t even know what he does for a living.

After last night, I have been stuck to Vito’s side for the rest of the day. I know I’m safe in the cabin, but the thought of the stalker tracking me down to this remote cabin throws another set of problems at me.

Whether it’s a ridiculous notion or not, I’m starting to think that I have a tracking device under my skin. It would make sense as to how he’s been able to track me down, and I do monthly check-ups with my regular doctor.

Could it be him?

He would have access to me and my updated emergency contacts. He could pretend to give me a flu shot and plant the tracking device in me.

I sound paranoid and crazy, but I’m out of options, and I just want answers.

“Darling girl, you are overthinking it.”

I sniffle, putting down the violin from my shoulder. Vito looks through the sheets of paper, eyes scanning the notes with interest as the grayness darkens. His lips downturn with a frown, his hand flipping through the papers.

“Right here,” he says as he picks up the paper to show it to me. “This note should be a pitch higher.”

I read where he’s pointing, and shock fills my body. Pandora’s Star is a complex piece with notes that can be confusing if it’s not being played under strict supervision. I have an amazing music teacher to help me with this piece, but given the circumstances, she had tried to be accommodating.

We have gotten down many of the complicated notes that sound too similar, but it only takes one great pair of ears to tell the difference. I want to be able to get this piece to flow with the main symphony that’s called Thirteen’s Rhythm.

This upcoming performance is dedicated to my teacher for being there for me. It was my first song, and I wish to show her my gratitude by letting her know how far I have come with her patience.

“I didn’t know you know music,” I mumble offhandedly.

I can’t imagine Vito with a violin because the image is too funny, and I think his hands would swallow the instrument.

“I don’t,” he comments before pointing out another note that I had missed. “I learned from you by listening to every piece you have performed and practiced.”

I blush at his dedication, but I don’t know why he would do that.

He seems to read my mind. “It’s to understand you better.”

“You don’t have to.” I duck my head, holding the violin in my arms with red cheeks.

“I want to be able to understand you better than anyone, and I can do that better when I begin to love what you love.”

I snap my head up to watch the gray in his eyes become lighter through the changes in the sunlight behind the clouds.

“You do?” I tighten my grip on the violin.

The color slips back to a thunderstorm hue as he cups my cheek affectionately, but his face negates every form of emotion.

“Yes.”

I should find the lack of passion and interest disturbing, but this is Vito, and he’s not the most expressive man around. I can’t judge someone on their interests based solely on their looks.

I put the violin back in place and start over again; the beautiful melody flows through the open area of the living room.

I couldn’t step foot into that room again, especially not after last night’s proof of the man I saw on the other side of the lake.

It’s a mix between a river and a lake; the size, length, and flow of it make it hard to tell which one it is. All I can tell is that it’s deep and very scary, and I do not want to be in there as it”s life-threatening.

Closing my eyes, I let the muscle memories do the job of finding the right pace and gifting this performance to Vito. The piece echoes in the back of my mind; it sets me in a place of peacefulness and absolute contentedness.

Stress leaves me as the piece goes on, and I lose track of time. Mid-afternoon smears on the walls of the cabin, highlighting the rich color of brandy and warming up the space with the sun.

I can see why many people would want to live here. It’s gorgeous, it’s a great detox formula for busy city life, and it gets me away from technology.

“How was it?” I ask with excitement strumming through my blood as I wait anxiously for his praise.

I know it, and he knows that I want it. It’s almost a form of addiction to hear his voice compliment me for something I have worked so hard on. I don’t care about praises from others because I’m doing what I love, but I want to hear those words from Vito.

This change in me comes with the dynamic between us. In private, he is my Daddy, and I’m his Darling while in public, he’s my bodyguard, and I’m his client.

Without being a musician in the spotlight, our relationship is frowned upon. He’s older, and I’m way too young to be tied down to him in many people’s opinion, and now that he’s my Daddy, the press will have a field day if they find out.

Which is undoubtedly not a big ‘if’ since they tend to dig up everything. Given the violinist status that I have, I will be torn to shreds, and everyone associated with me will be dragged through the mud too.

I don’t want that, but I don’t want to give him up either. I want to be with Vito, and I would likely die of heartbreak if the media tore us open.

I might not be able to withstand the scrutiny and the judgmental gazes, but what scares me the most is losing my ability to perform what I love or losing Vito because public perception is a huge factor in my popularity.

In their eyes, I’m to retain my innocence. No relationships and no scandals.

Being with Vito is a relationship and a scandal waiting to happen.

There are too many things happening to me all at once, and I need a break from that, and this place is the best choice I have for now since the stalker issue remains a constant reminder of my troubles.

At times, I would try to think back if I had offended someone or was accidentally too nice when I was still a budding violinist. Nothing would come to mind that would impact this much into his mind, but human brains are too complicated.

“Thirty-minute break and we will resume.” Vito puts down the sheets of music, and I follow his instructions to put the violin back into the casing.

I roll my neck and sigh away the stiffness. Two nights of bad sleep are catching up to me, and if this continues, then I’m going to have more than a sore neck.

A big hand, calloused and thick, kneads my shoulder and presses down on the right pressure point to make me squeal in blissfulness. His career choices can be opened for the option of a masseuse.

My body melts into his arms as he makes me sit on his lap while he massages my shoulders with a firm grip. I’m going to fall asleep with the ache leaving me, but I try to keep my eyes open. It’s hard, and I’m leaning back to his chest.

His hands leave my shoulders, and before I could protest, they find my own hands and rub them. The tense digits wither by his actions, and I am floating on cloud nine.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I murmur happily.

It had taken me by surprise when I could call him that easily, and I believe the deepest part of me has always waited for this moment. To be taken care of, pampered, and spoiled by him.

It just took a stalker almost flattening me in the car to have our relationship accelerate. Who knows when or if this would have happened if it wasn’t for it.

Vito lifts me off his lap and plops me down on the sofa. A blanket and a pillow at the other end is for me when I had yawned three times consecutively, and Vito had left them there just in case.

It’s very handy now as I snuggle into the pillow that he stuffs under my head, the blanket caging me in securely, and a sweet kiss to my forehead as he stands.

“Where are you going?” I ask, closing my eyes, and tiredness is deep in my bones.

I don’t have the energy to follow him around to see whatever he’s doing. He could be fixing the generator again or chopping some wood, and I would love to see his muscles flex in glistening sweat under the unforgiving sunlight.

“I’m checking the security system. I’ll be back soon.” He brushes a stray chunk of hair behind my ear until I fall asleep.

It was a short nap, and I had woken up exactly thirty minutes later when I peer groggily at the clock on the wall. Vito is nowhere to be seen, and the cabin is equally quiet with an unnerving atmosphere.

I kick my legs from the blanket and let the cool air run over my bare legs. The smell of fresh flowers whiffs past my nose.

I look around the living room for the source, and I find it at the kitchen table that’s connected to where I’m sitting.

My heart hammers erratically at the sweet gesture from Vito. The arrangements of the flowers don’t admit defeat to some of the bouquets that I have gotten from fans, but this one is from Vito, so it’s special to me.

I pick up the stack of loose flowers and hiss when a thorn pricks the inner part of my wrist. Dropping the scattered flowers with separated petals, I squint my eyes at the small drip of blood pooling above my skin.

Then something small and black crawls out of the bundle of flowers.

It’s a spider, and I freeze in terror at the speed at which it is crawling towards me. I yelp loudly, and it echoes in my eardrums, but my voice gets Vito’s attention from wherever he was.

He threw a book at it, and it never made it out from under the heavy cover. I would have asked him to use something else because books are valuable learning material, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

And I am right.

“Don’t touch it, darling girl. It’s poisonous.”

His warning has my bottom lip quivering. These consecutive incidents are having a toll on my mental state. I just want this to end so I can get back to only focusing on my music.

“What’s happening?” I ask, and the broad question goes unanswered.

Vito picks me up with his arm under my knees and arm supporting my back. I throw my arms around his neck, lips on the scarred skin as he carries me. I hold him close when he sits down on the sofa. The indented blanket tickles the bottom of my feet as I focus on finding my balance with a couple of deep inhales.

“Did you leave the flowers?” I ask before I know what I want to know.

It’s a question that I didn’t know why I wanted to ask. Vito would never gift me something without checking first because he’s very detail-oriented and very knowledgeable. If he knew the spider was poisonous when he killed it, then he must have known when he left the spider in the flowers.

I pinch my eyes shut. It can’t be him. However, he’s the only person that has access to this cabin other than me, and he knows how to get around without being detected.

“No,” he says. “I didn’t.”

I want to believe him, but I don’t know how when I don’t even believe myself for questioning him. No one has taught me how to deal with a situation like this, even though many people with fame get stalked.

I wish someone would give a talk show to educate people about the general and basic steps to deal with this situation.

My mind says to get away from Vito until I know what exactly is happening, but my body doesn’t want to leave the safety of his arms.

My music instructor has always told me that the brain can do tricks, but muscle memories never lie. For me, Vito is and will forever be the only one I can trust with my life.

He can’t be my stalker. He can’t.

It’s possible, it can, and it makes sense. My mind repeats that phrase over and over again. All of them can be explained by coincidence, and I’m not willing to jeopardize my relationship with Vito based on speculation driven by fear.

My mind is doing everything it can to stray from the unknown, so it’s making up things and going with what’s the most convenient.

“Darling girl,” he murmurs, the rumbling in his chest switches to a purr. “Hurting you hurts me more. I have sworn to protect you on my honor, and I will never break that vow.”

What other choice do I have but to believe him?

Cyrus and Alana trust him; they find him to be a credible man who Cyrus had fought in battle with.

I should get a doctor to check me out because I don’t want anything to hinder the upcoming performance.

“Drink, darling.” A shock of coldness runs with a shiver up my spine when the icy feel of a water glass hits my arm.

I turn and accept the glass of water. The coldness gushing down my throat and soothing the coiling organs inside of me brings attention to the clear glass as I contemplate the fact that I never told Vito about my habit of destressing with cold water.

Medically, I don’t think it’s healthy, but it’s what works.

“Refrigerated water is the only filtered water this cabin has,” he explains.

My eyebrows unfurrow themselves, and I shoot him a grateful smile through a shaky breath. I’m honestly ashamed of myself for suspecting Vito; he has done nothing to harm me, and everything could be explained through common sense.

Whether he realized the inner turmoil I had not long ago or not, Vito says nothing about my strange behavior.

Sometimes it’s better to say nothing than to open up a can of worms that can become a problem when the solution is clear as day.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He hums. “Very welcome, darling.”

I close my eyes again and let my mind wander to a peaceful moment. The steady thump of his heart and the heat of his body weighs on my conscience. I feel guilty for thinking that he was the stalker, and I know I should apologize, so I brace myself with disappointment on his face.

“I’m sorry…” I whisper, too inaudible even in my own ears, but he hears it.

He doesn’t ask the reason behind the apology. “It’s alright. There’s no need to apologize.”

“But—” I protest hastily, head leaving the crook of his neck.

He detaches my arm around him and inspects the smeared blood on my wrist. “Let’s have this bandage. We wouldn’t want an infection, do we?”

When he says it like that, there is no way I would not listen to him. Having an infection on my hands could be equivalent to pouring the effort of being a violinist down the drain. I didn’t work this hard to have my career put on a scuba suit and dive into the depth of the ocean.

I nod wordlessly. Vito sets me on the sofa and goes to search for a Band-Aid. He comes back with a single sheet of alcohol wipe that stings the small pricked wound, but the burning sensation is covered by a clear Band-Aid.

I thank him with a kiss on the cheek when the corner of my eye catches something. I turn and tilt my head in confusion.

It’s stuck between the folds of the blanket, and when I tug it out, it’s a Polaroid of me sleeping on the sofa minutes ago.

My hand trembles with a strong tremor, and the photo drops onto the blanket. I choke out a terrified scream and bury my face in my hands.

The space beside me dips, and Vito’s heavy arm wraps around my shoulders to bring me to his side. I peer at him warily, unshed tears rolling in my eyes as the stress is getting too much for me.

Someone was in the cabin, photographed me, and left a souvenir to tell me that he was here. It has to be the stalker. No one has been this consistently terrorizing me other than him.

Vito picks up the Polaroid and flips it over with a glare. His gray eyes almost touch black as his lips peel back with a sneer, angry and bitter.

“I want to go back to the city, Daddy. Please! I don’t want to be here anymore!”

He nods in agreement. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”