3. Marco
Marco
S he's mad at me and with good reason—I dropped out of her life without warning three years ago. I’m not proud of it, and if only she'd give me a chance to explain myself, I'll gladly clear the air.
However, Olivia won't even look at me, let alone listen to anything I have to say. She hates me, I can tell. I can see it in her eyes—the same eyes that once held nothing but love for me. How ironic!
I took this job and came back into her life because she might be in danger, and I won't live with myself if anything bad ever happens to her.
This is my chance to make things right—to fix the mess that I made—but it’s turning out to be quite harder than I thought.
She's seated on a plush couch with her legs propped up on a cushion, her open laptop balanced on the armrest. The soft flicker of the screen casts an ethereal glow across her features, her sharp brown eyes sparkling behind her designer medicated glasses.
Her shoulder-length, straight black hair cascades down her back like a waterfall as her skin simmers in the soft light. She's still as beautiful as I remember—hot and ridiculously attractive.
I swipe a palm over my face, my eyes drinking in the curvy shape of the body that was once mine. She has on an oversized shirt which hangs loosely off her shoulder, showing her cleavage. Her alluring thighs draw my attention, stealing my focus for a moment.
In a split second, my gaze meets hers and I look away immediately, my heart drumming in my chest. I can't stand the look in her eyes—the hatred and disdain. It makes my stomach turn.
I'm supposed to be setting up my tools, but I keep getting distracted by Olivia's insanely hot body. Knowing that she used to be mine didn't help at all.
I heave a sigh and decide to at least try to do my job. If someone is indeed after her, then I mustn't take this for granted. Her life is more important to me than anything else in the world. That's a fact.
I move with swift precision, my eyes scanning every inch of her penthouse as I set up my security system. As I work, the quiet beeps of motion detectors and the soft hum of cameras fill the air.
As I install a sleek, silver panel by the entrance, its touchscreen glowing with a soft blue light, I steal another glance at Olivia. She's just sitting there, staring at her blank screen. She’s quiet and focused, but she's not typing. Why?
I can't help but sense her unease. Is it because she's in the same room with me, unarguably her least favorite person in the world? Or is it something else?
She turns in my direction and her face contorts into a frown, one I find rather beautiful. “What're you looking at?” she snarls, her eyes narrowing.
Again, I look away.
Her gaze lingers on me for the next few seconds before I no longer feel it.
Something's bothering her, I can tell.
I've known Olivia for a while and I know when she's upset, nervous, and afraid. Right now, she's these things.
She appears to be in control, but she's not. Her trembling hands give her away. They betray her composure. Her chest heaves slowly. And beneath the fury in her eyes is a glint of something terrified.
I haven't seen her so spooked in a while. Something tells me she knows more about her stalker than she’s letting on.
In no time, the security system is online, and everything is in place.
Perfect. As I straighten up, my eyes roam the living room, taking in the elegant furnishings and elegant artwork that adorn the walls.
I sight a bookshelf to my right, and I notice a mismatch in the alignment of the books on one shelf.
My instincts kick in along with my curiosity, leading me toward the almost imperceptible seam in the wall. I halt in front of the bookshelf, then push. It swings open, revealing a hidden safe. My eyes narrow as I stare at the combination lock glinting in the lights.
“What the fuck?” Olivia's voice snaps from behind me.
I turn around and there she is, on her feet with an intense glare that makes my skin crawl.
“What do you think you're doing?” she demands, her voice low and even.
The rage that laced her tone throws me off for a moment and I'm quick to get a hold of myself. “I'm doing my job,” I say, daring to meet her blazing eyes.
“Your job?” She lets out a dismissive scoff, a glint of irritation flashing across her face. “Your job is to keep me safe, not to go snooping around my place.”
Olivia walks past me and pushes the shelf back to where it was, concealing the hidden safe. “Stick to what you're being paid to do,” she hissed.
Her words cut. But then again, I guess I deserve this treatment and maybe even more.
“Apologies,” I say, watching her walk back to the couch.
She ignores and when she's about to sit, I dare to ask, “What's in the safe?”
Her expression darkens, and her brows furrow, forming deep creases between them.
Yup. I just struck a nerve and now I regret why I asked.
She returns to stand in front of me, her footsteps slow and menacing.
Her eyes narrow as she casts a stern glare at me.
“What gives you the right to question me…?” she begins, her voice low and dripping with venom, “You walked out of my life three years, Marco. No word, no heads-up…nothing,” her words are spoken with a deliberate slowness that makes my heart race.
“And now you've returned and think you can just ask questions?”
“I only wanted to know what's in the safe,” I say without breaking eye contact.
“That’s none of your business,” she growls.
My hands rise defensively. “Okay, okay…”
She's so upset and delicate. I have to be smart in handling this situation.
“Look, I know you're angry…” I start, my voice low and even.
“Angry?” She cocks her head to the side, taking a step closer. “Oh, I'm not angry, Marco—I'm fucking furious!” She adds the last sentence through gritted teeth.
A single vein lines her forehead and her jaw tightens while her eyes turn crimson-red.
Boy, she's not kidding.
“I understand,” I say softly, choosing my next words carefully. “Olivia, I can explain…”
“You didn't explain three years ago when I would've loved to listen,” she replies, calmer now, but with disdain flickering in her gaze. “Don't waste your time explaining now. You won't have my attention.”
She sizes me up with her eyes, then walks away.
I smooth my hair backwards, fingers scratching my scalp as I curse myself quietly. I was in deeper shit than I thought, and all I can think about now is how to get out of this mess.
The hatred in Olivia's eyes is a challenge, one that I plan to take on.
Later that night, as I sit in my room, going over the live footage of the house, I catch her on camera sneaking out of the building.
Where is she going dressed up in a black hoodie?
From the screen, I watch her look around as if to be sure no one is watching.
“What're you up to, Olivia?” I say out loud.
She leaves the house in a hurry and I know that's the cue. So, I get out of my chair, grab my jacket and follow her.
Tonight, the streets are empty. Only the distant sound of a barking dog punctuates the air. I keep a safe distance, tailing her meticulously, my eyes never leaving her for a moment.
I hide behind a tree and watch her head toward a nearby bank. What's she doing here at this time of night?
Olivia stands at the entrance and turns around, her sharp eyes sweeping across the empty street. I lurk in the shadows, watching her disappear into the bank, which is usually closed by this hour.
What're you up to, Olivia?
I wait behind the tree, my eyes scanning the surrounding area for signs of potential threats. Now and then, I'll check my watch, wondering what's taking so long, what the fuck she’s even doing inside a closed bank at this hour.
A few minutes later, she emerges, her hands clutching a small package. My eyes narrow, trying to make out what she's holding, but I can't.
Her gaze darts around, a flicker of paranoia flickering across her face.
I'm not sure what's going on, but this is deeper than just some stalker's threats. Olivia’s hiding something, and I’ll figure out what it is direct.