Chapter 21
S CARLETT
I arrive at the meeting place after five, and strings of lights glow along the sidewalks as the evening sets in.
Opting against going inside and getting another coffee, I walk to the park, but not too many people move in that direction as most of them rush home.
A pang of nostalgia hits me.
Life, at times, is all about the people you cross paths with. My mother and I had a good time when she was alive. She made me feel safe and protected and taught me everything she knew.
She also enjoyed every second that she had.
My friends came and went, and I’ve never had someone I could talk to daily and laugh about dates gone wrong or how to make more money.
Sammy comes close to being that type of friend, but I don’t talk to her that often. Besides, I couldn’t be honest with her about Ewan, and I still don’t know if I ever could.
And men?
I wish Joachim was different.
I wish he was the kind of man I couldn’t wait to go home to. Someone who took time from his schedule to spend time with me, trying to see me for who I was.
We quickly fell into a routine and couldn’t find the time to nourish our connection.
We weren’t meant to be, and that was fine by me.
I learned quickly that real men were hard to find, and he was only an empty shell.
Quietly, I move through the park, still thinking about life and longing for all the things I've longed to have.
I make it across and stop in front of a beautiful hotel when I check the time on my phone.
I should go back. Maybe the car has arrived.
It’s been a long day with numerous developments, so I should go back and forget about my walk.
But I tip my gaze up and forget about my thoughts, the lights of the luxurious hotel garnering my attention.
I stare at them blankly, still lost in my head, when a slow convoy of cars comes to a stop in front of the entrance.
Several doormen rush out to help, although there’s little need for their services.
Men climb out, and the drivers attend to them.
With my curiosity ignited, I inch closer to the sidewalk and watch the group of men.
It’s hard not to notice their shiny shoes, long coats, expensive suits, and athletic figures carefully concealed beneath their posh appearances.
They look festive, and I can only think they are here for a Christmas party.
It’s odd to only see men, but what do I know?
Shrugging to myself, I am about to tear my eyes away and pivot when one of the men catches my attention, and I do a double take.
His back is turned to me, and there is a car between us, but the second he flicks his eyes to the men at his side, it feels like a deja vu.
The evening Ewan dined at that expensive restaurant comes to mind.
I shake my head in denial, smiling wryly.
“What the hell?” I murmur to myself.
The only difference is that there are considerably more men in his entourage, but like then, he seems to be the focus of the gathering.
Ewan?
Really?
‘What are the odds?’ I think to myself.
And didn’t he know that I’d be only a few blocks away from him?
Of course he did.
But the man has a life and things to take care of. If this bunch of men doesn’t scream mafia, I don’t know what else does.
But I’m still hanging onto a shred of disbelief.
This can be a business meeting.
But short of the––sometimes––bloody endings, what do mobsters do if not business meetings?
They move toward the entrance with intent, exchanging words and offering tense smiles.
I don’t know what this is, but I better leave.
I don’t do that, though.
I move stealthily behind a few cars and then creep closer, getting a better view of him at the same time.
He rocks that coat and smooth gloves.
He looks like a killer. And he could surely kill my heart if I had gotten any closer to this man.
But what are the chances to see him here?
How strange this story is.
A few days ago, I knew nothing about this man.
I fell into his lap, literally, and we went from snapping words with sexual undertones at each other to some sort of nerdy friendship and then to him being forever present in my life and borderline-stalking me.
He is as mysterious as he is attractive, and I’m about to do the stupidest thing that I could do.
Instead of moving away, going to the meeting place, and then home, I slide closer to the cars.
The drivers fall into their seats, and one by one, the cars pull away. I can only assume they’ll wait for their passengers someplace close.
My eyes sit on Ewan’s shoulders while he walks through the doors.
Once they’re all inside, I step even closer.
The place is crammed with people, and I wish I could slip inside the lobby and pretend I’m one of the guests of the hotel or restaurant.
I’m pretty sure that’s where they’re headed.
It’s too bad that I’m not dressed for the occasion.
If I were, I could’ve pulled that stunt.
Still this is silly.
I can only imagine the mountain of embarrassment that would ram through me if I happened to run into him and had no explanation for my presence there.
This is the second time this has happened.
Fate drawing us together. Bringing us to a certain place. And I’m not even talking about how we met.
So what could I tell him if he noticed me inside the hotel?
’Oh, hi. I lied to you and then spotted you and followed you inside the hotel because I couldn’t keep my curiosity under control?’
And, um…
‘I also want to know your business since my friend, Samantha, told me…’
“Oh, fuck it,” I mumble, annoyed, under my breath.
This is not even about him being a mobster.
It’s about me being unable to stay away from him.
I am so damn fascinated with him that I’d rather make a fool of myself instead of forgetting about him and going home.
Using my rational part of the brain is futile, I realize, as I stare at my reflection in the window.
I don’t look bad.
But I don’t look like someone who has been invited to a Christmas party, either.
I pull out a small mirror from my backpack and run my fingers through my hair and under my eyes before applying a shiny coating of raspberry-scented lipgloss.
I open my coat and exercise my nonchalant look.
Maybe I could impersonate an eccentric, bored heiress.
I feel like laughing, but I stifle my reaction, hating to draw eyes to myself.
Okay.
I suck in a long breath, and checking the area to make sure he hasn’t returned and is watching me misbehave, I stop in front of the doors, pretending I’m waiting for someone.
Luckily, a group of people heads my way, and without remorse, I follow them inside as if we’re traveling together.
Step one, accomplished.
Now that I’m inside, I want to make sure I’m not being tossed out because I look suspicious.
The crowd is a mix of hotel guests and people who are here for the drinks and food, but I still feel like I’ve broken a few laws just by simply being here.
I move around the lobby, ensuring I’m not spotted by someone in his entourage.
He is the only one who knows me, so I shouldn’t fret over this, but you can never be too cautious with these things. And this kind of people.
Eventually, I sneak out of the lobby and follow a corridor that takes me to a nice area with lavish couches, low coffee tables, dim lighting, and Christmas decorations.
It’s impressive, and I wish I could study the room a little more, but he’s not here, and I’m afraid he might catch me with my mouth open, gawking at this space, if he came.
It’s not that I’m easily impressionable––I’m not––but the place is nice. It's too nice not to stick around a little longer.
Couples sit at the bar and sip fancy drinks. I should get one, too, and then I’ll never make it to the car waiting for me.
It must be well past six, so I’m late anyway.
I don’t even bother to check the time, although I should get back soon, and preferably before something bad happens.
With that thought in mind, I spin around and see him at the last moment.
Not noticing me as I swiftly retreat into a dark corner––lucky me––he heads to one of the big couches followed by a bunch of men.
They sit and sip their drinks while I use the opportunity to get out.
I couldn’t be happier to step away from that place despite still harboring mixed feelings. I saw him and satisfied my curiosity, so now it’s time to go home.
Moving quickly, I let him and his men behind me and head to the exit. But before walking out, I figure I need to use the bathroom.
I do just that, and minutes later, I exit the restroom.
My phone rings, and I reach for it in my backpack. I take it out and notice Sammy’s name.
Shit.
I should answer her call since this may have to do with my new gigs, so I tap accept.
“Hi,” I say in a joyful voice, quiet so I don’t attract any eyes to me, although no one is near me.
“Hi. Can you talk?”
The noise in the background suggests she’s outside.
“Yeah, yeah. Sure,” I say, pacing to the end of the corridor.
Looking down, I listen.
“I just spoke to the manager at that place. Not the owner. He says he wants you to come in a little earlier. Frankly, I think he wants to make sure you’re fit for the job.
I told him that you are. But, you know men.
He’s a little creepy, too, so watch out.
Don’t talk to him unless there are other people around.
I don’t know the guy well. It’s just what I’ve heard. He’s a little shady.”
My heart warms.
“Thank you so much for looking out for me.”
“No problem. Anytime. Just make sure you’re there on––”
“Agh,” I blurt, cutting her off.
She doesn’t have the chance to finish her sentence as I run full-on into the hard chest of a man, narrowly avoiding stepping on his shoes.
I flick my gaze up and our eyes lock immediately. The blood drains from my face.
This is insane.
“Scarlett??”
His voice couldn’t be more drenched in surprise. And his eyes couldn’t be darker with suspicion.
My mouth opens, but the words pull away from me as I’m afraid of being misjudged by the man in front of me.
“Scarlett?” Sammy’s voice rings in my ear. “Are you still there?” she insists.
“Yes. Yes, I am,” I say slowly, watching Ewan’s eyes going from dark to blinding gray.
It’s like he’s drowning in disappointment, no chance to ever recover from it.
“Can I call you back?” I say, cold as ice.
I end the call and let my phone fall into my pocket, not tearing my eyes away from him. My decision has been made, as this is a do-or-die moment.
There’s only one way to handle this, and I can’t waver.
“Who was that?” he asks, an eyebrow lifted.
“A friend,” I toss at him. “We were talking about work,” I offer, sounding guilty… of lying.
His eyes hover over my face.
“What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to go home half an hour ago?”
“Yes, I was.”
His leniency toward me has just about been consumed, and he squares his shoulders and tilts his head back, his arms crossed over his chest.
“So why are you here then?” he asks, not in an amicable tone.
I’m not blaming him for being upset. I’d also be if I were him. Besides, he’s right. I was following him.
So what should I tell him?
“I was walking in the park when I realized I needed to use the bathroom and headed inside to look for a restroom, so here I am.”
“So, it just happened that you were here?”
“Yes. You just happened to be here, too.”
His eyebrows tilt.
“Have you been following me?”
My eyes slide from his handsome face to his inked hands. And suddenly, I realize I have nothing to lose.
What can I say? I’m busted.
There’s no point in denying it.
I lift my eyes. He’s waiting patiently.
“Yes, I’ve been following you. I didn’t know you’d be here, but I saw you from across the street and wanted to know where you were headed. I noticed you had men with you, like that night at the restaurant. And then there was something else…”
My friend told me you are a mobster.
The last few words never make it to my lips.
“Yes?”
“Nothing. That’s it,” I say resolutely.
I learned this trick from my pupils. Colley does that a lot. Once he makes up his mind on something, there’s no way I can extract more information from him.
Colley might get away with it, but Ewan has none of it.
He closes the space between us and slowly unfolds his arms.
“Why are you here, Scarlett?”
His face is tilted down, his eyes waiting for something good to come from me, and my joy morphs into sadness.
I don’t have anything good to tell him. I was spying on him because I was as suspicious of him as he is of me right now.
It pains me to say the next words, but I’m doing it anyway.
“Someone had warned me about you,” I say, and his eyes dip, evading my scrutiny, before coming back to mine.
“What are you talking about?”
I notice the tension threaded through his eyes, and more than ever now, I know he’s hiding something from me.
Can I even ask him to be truthful with me?
I’m hiding stuff away from him, too.
“They say you have connections with the Mafia,” I say dryly.
Walls grow around his heart, his eyes morphing into crescents of ice.
“Who told you that?”
“It’s not important.”
“Who told you that, Scarlett?” he insists, and it quickly dawns on me I can’t put Sammy in danger.
“I need to go,” I say. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, truly sorry.
I didn’t think that by coming here, I’d put an end to the idea of us. Whatever that could’ve turned out to be.
To my chagrin, no one follows me outside.
But the driver is where we were supposed to meet.
Apparently, he didn’t get the memo that his boss and I had a little disagreement.
He holds the door for me and makes sure I’m comfortable in my seat before sliding behind the wheel and veering away from Manhattan.