6. Olivia
Olivia
A few days have passed, and the pressure builds. More bloodied dolls and toys keep popping up here and there. The most sinister part of this whole thing is that the toys allude to specific details and references to my college days.
Marco can surely tell that I know more than I'm letting on, and he's seems suspicious. He watches me closely nowadays, his eyes roaming over me, day and night.
I can't deny that a part of me likes the attention—the way he's so determined to keep me safe. I don't doubt his ability to protect me, not a single bit, but my concerns are more than that.
Marco just might get to the truth sooner than I want him to, and I don't think I'm ready for that.
It's not like I can keep this hidden forever, especially now that this stalker is on my trail. But I really am not ready to face it. Not yet.
I've yet to come to terms with the truth: that the kiss Marco and I shared a few days ignited a flame within me. I can't stop thinking about it. I've tried. But the images of the day flood my mind when I least expect it.
The taste of his tongue still lingers on mine and my body shivers when I recall the feeling of his hands around my waist.
I'm sitting in the living room, my leg absently tapping on the floor as I nibble a fingernail. I'm so lost in my own thoughts that I don't hear Marco come in until he conspicuously clears his throat.
The sudden sound startles me, and I flinch, turning in his direction.
“Wanna tell me what's going on?” he asks, staring at me, his tone low and serious.
I look into his eyes, my heart hammering in my chest. “I don't know what you're talking about.” My voice sounds faint, my eyes unable to hold his stare.
“Don't bullshit me, Ollie,” he says, drawing closer.
“What the hell is going on?” Marco halts in front of me, his gaze locked on me.
“You've been acting weird lately, like you're always terrified about something. You barely eat, barely sleep—I can tell because there are bags under your eyes and you are thin. Not to mention, you get spooked over the littlest disturbances around you.”
He pauses for effect, then adds solemnly. “So, I'm gonna ask you one more time. What the hell is going on, Ollie?”
My heart’s beating too fast and I can't even breathe.
“I'm not a fool, Ollie,” he says, his eyes boring into mine. “I know you're hiding something. I just need to know what, so I can know how to protect you.”
I swallow hard, tempted to come clean, but it's too risky.
Just then, his phone rings, breaking the awkward silence between us. He hesitates for a moment before digging his hand into his pocket. Without taking his eyes off me, he answers. “Yes?”
Marco doesn't say another word, nor does his expression change. He just stands there, listening to the caller on the other line.
“Alright, keep me posted,” he says and hangs up the phone. “That was one of my guys. They have eyes on the man from the coffee shop the other day,” he says to me.
My brows furrow, and my heart stops for a second. Marco's getting close to the truth. Too close. A wave of heat spreads across my body, and now I'm sweating in weird places. “Why do you have your men following him?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Why shouldn't I?” he shoots back, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “He was the reason for your panic attack that day.”
I rise to my feet, my anxiety building as I walk a few paces past him.
“His name is Hunter.” Marco's voice stops me in my tracks. “Hunter Calderon. Ring a bell?”
I turn around and he still has his back to me. Seconds later, he swivels and meets my gaze, his expression blank.
Yes. The name rings a bell.
I remember him now. Hunter Calderon was a former client of the Bellanti family, who was quietly removed from the organization. This happened years ago, after I found out that he'd been skimming money and secretly dealing with our rivals.
The man used to be a forensic accountant for the FBI, before my father recruited him, meaning he was goddamn good at what he did.
Hunter was smart in double-crossing the Bellanti and covering his tracks. I had to be smarter to smoke him out.
I remember just how obsessed he was with me back when he worked for my family, how uncomfortable his perverted glances made me feel. No wonder he looked so familiar the other day–how could I have forgotten his face?
“Hunter Calderon is your stalker,” Marco says, his voice flat but laced with conviction. “He's the one planting those bloodied dolls and sending subtle threats. He's messing with you, for revenge, or fun, or just out of spite, considering what a psycho he is.”
He knows. Hunter knows my little secret–he knows what happened seven years ago. But how? God, I'm so screwed, I think to myself, my heart sinking into my belly. My breath catches in my throat and my chest heaves slowly.
“Calderon seems to have something on you,” Marco says, drawing closer to me. “I need to know what that is.”
My heart skips and my feet immediately turn cold.
“This is more serious than you realize, Ollie.” He halts in front of me. “My men just informed me that Calderon was spotted near your apartment and when they got there, they found your place ransacked.”
Oh My God. This is escalating.
“That's not the creepy part,” he says. “They found video footage of you in your apartment being played on your TV screen.” He pauses, letting the words sink in. “He's been watching you, Ollie.”
Cold sweat dampens my forehead the moment he explains the gravity of my situation. I shiver and feel like I’m unable to carry my own weight and I can feel my heart pounding like a drum.
He reaches out and takes my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please,” he begins, his voice soothing. “I need you to just trust me and tell me what's going on. Please.”
My eyes mist and my lips quiver as I stare blankly at him. I want to open up and tell him the whole truth, but I'm too afraid of the outcome. I open my mouth to talk, but no words come out. It's like I'm too numb to think or speak.
He lowers his head, fingers rubbing his eyes as he exhales sharply. “Okay.” He meets my gaze again. “I'll tell you why I really disappeared three years ago. Who knows? Maybe my honesty might make you comfortable enough to trust me again.”
It feels good to finally hear his side of the story, but I'm yet to find my voice and organize my thoughts. It's a fucking mess in my head.
Marco withdraws from me, combing his fingers through his hair. He takes a moment to gather himself before speaking, “I disappeared on you three years ago because I had to—I didn't want to, but I had to.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, finally finding my voice.
He's quiet, his eyes pinned on me, and with each passing second, the suspense grows.
“My presence in your life was a danger to you, and I couldn't keep risking your safety,” he says.
“I don't understand."
He draws a deep breath, his words spilling out in a calm and calculated way.
“My father, Giovanni, was a consigliere to a powerful Sicilian family–the Calabreses. When I was 16, he discovered the Calabrese don was trafficking children. So, to put an end to that madness, he gathered evidence and planned to expose them.”
I stare in silence; the world fading away into the background.
“But we're talking about a powerful family. They found out and…” his voice cracks, his lips slightly trembling. “They uh…” He swallows hard, blinking rapidly, as if suppressing his emotions. “They made him watch as they killed my mother, and then they put a bullet in his head.”
My face goes pale and my eyes widen, my heart breaking at the sound of the pain in his voice.
His voice cracks again, but he keeps going.
“I was in boarding school in Switzerland when the incident happened. The Calabreses let me live. Not out of the goodness of their hearts, but because they wanted me to suffer—to wander the earth alone knowing that I had no one.” He pauses and continues, “He let me live as a reminder to others of the consequences of betrayal.”
His expression darkens ever so slightly.
“But I didn't stay hidden—no, I worked hard. I built my life brick by brick until I became the man my parents would be proud of.” His voice is tinged with a hint of confidence as he speaks.
“I built my reputation in security and protection so no one else would have to go through what I did—at least not under my watch.”
His career choice makes sense, and I feel my anger toward him slowly dissipating into the air.
“That's how I met your father. He hired me to protect you—to keep you safe,” he continues, his tone dropping by a notch.
“But what I didn't know was that Calabreses had ties with your family. So, when we fell in love, those fuckers saw an opportunity to turn me against your family. They wanted me to betray the Bellanti.”
My hand reflexively flies to my chest, and a cold shiver sprints down my spine. I'm seeing the picture now and it's breaking my heart.
He forges ahead, explaining. “When I refused, they started making threats, setting up ‘accidents’ around you. I received disturbing photos and surveillances from your daily routines, all to make me turn against the Bellanti. But I couldn't do that. Nor could I risk losing you.”
He heaves a sigh. “Somehow, your father found out that someone was targeting his daughter, that the ‘accidents’ around you were orchestrated. During his investigation, he found out about the connection to me. To save your life…he asked me to leave you.”
A tear makes its way down my cheek.
“It broke my heart, but he was right. I'd rather leave than watch you become collateral damage in an old vendetta, one you knew nothing about.” He sighs. “I knew you wouldn’t let me go, so I had to leave without telling you.”
My breath logs in my throat and I press my lips together, feeling the jolt of emotions coursing through my body.