Chapter Four
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Archie
“Here you go, love,” I murmur as adrenaline rushes just below the surface of my skin.
I set Sarelia’s tea in front of her at the table. Sugar and milk. Like how I know she likes it, not because Stone told me, but because I’ve gone through every minute of the footage he’s sent me and learned her preferences for myself like a good stalker.
“Thank you,” she says, wrapping her hands around her warm tea cup as she gazes up at me with wide, star-struck eyes.
She…
Wow.
My heart pounds in my ears, making me deliciously dizzy.
Pictures have never, not once, done her justice. Videos pale in comparison to the beauty in front of me.
Soft brown hair falls in sheets over her shoulders and down her back, all the way past her waist, flowing around her in a phantom breeze. My fingers twitch, yearning to run through the long, shiny strands. Perhaps just one touch…
She gasps, and I pull back, then sigh, allowing my eyes the pleasure of tracing the contours of her face, where I delight to find she has freckles that my cameras have not showcased to the degree they deserve to be showcased.
They’re light—barely even there, but they are.
Right there, below her star-studded hazel eyes.
“My goodness, you’re beautiful.”
She blinks. “I’m tall.”
Mm, and so she is. Slender and tall, she has several inches on me. Like an angel looking down on me from above.
“Like I said, beautiful.”
She blushes, covering the constellations on her skin with a sweet pink. I wonder if it tastes as sweet as it looks.
This time, I control my base urges, keeping my hands—and tongue—to myself. I am nothing if not a martyr.
“I’m sorry for how your introduction to me and my household has come about,” I tell her.
“I can assure you, my plans were much more… grand gesture. Much less snatching you off the streets. Not that I’m against kidnapping, exactly, but I would’ve at least had flowers for you when I did it.
Did Stone offer you any flowers in my stead?
A spray of peonies? Or, perhaps, an orchid? ”
She shakes her head. “No, but that’s okay. He showed me pictures of you.”
Ah. “A much better deal than a mere flower, then.” I nod. “I knew Stone was smart.” Or at least mildly suspected it, recent events not withstanding.
“I… I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “But. Um. Is this– is this real? Like real real? I’m not dreaming, or in a coma, or on hardcore drugs, or suffering from a brain injury, or in a deep state of psychosis, or—”
“It’s real,” I interrupt. “Or perhaps it isn’t, and I’m experiencing one of those things with you. A dual psychosis could be rather fascinating, don’t you think?” I tilt my head as I peer at her, mesmerized by the way her lashes flutter, so gentle, against her cheeks.
“You… well, Stone said that you know about my fan sites?” she asks. A pink to match that on her cheeks spreads over her neck, reaching all the way up to the tippy tops of her ears.
I trace a finger over her earlobe, relishing in the warmth that it exudes.
She is, in a word, cute.
I really should stop staring at her and start figuring out what I’m going to do with her.
“Drink your tea, Sarelia. If you can give me a little while, I can let you know what the plans are for dealing with this unexpected situation. I apologize again that I am not more prepared for your presence. I hope to spend as little time as possible rectifying that situation so that I may give you, if not a good welcome, at least a good stay.” I refrain for now from telling her that her “stay” will be forever.
Watching her figure it out on her own could be fun, and I haven’t yet decided if it’s the sort of fun I’d like to have or not.
I’ll make my decision once I know how, precisely, I will be keeping her.
I mean, the room I’ve been curating for her is only ninety-seven percent pink, for goodness’ sake.
Sarelia, the angel, does not mind if I take a few to figure the situation out. She sits primly, sipping at her tea and nibbling a biscuit I unearth from a cabinet.
I sit at the table where she may gaze in wonder upon my person while I open my phone and pull up the contact most likely to help me—Heidi Cole, my sister, friend, sort of colleague, and sometimes therapy client.
The therapy being only “sometimes” because she finally stopped being stupid and married her best friend and roommate, Basil Cole, all thanks to me—not that they ever properly thanked me for it, the louses.
Archie: Stop snogging Baz for a second. I need your help with a hypothetical situation that may or may not be happening as we speak.
Heidi: Hypothetical situations don’t happen IRL, Arch. That’s why they’re called “hypothetical.”
Archie: Hypothetically, let’s say a man has been paying his uncle to do what many would consider to be “heavy and blatant stalking” for a woman that he is, hypothetically, in love with.
Then, let’s say that man’s uncle saved a ton of money from this job, refused to take up gambling, and decided he wanted to do something so silly as “retire.” So he kidnapped the girl, brought her to the man, and dropped her off with a, “see you, I’m going to the beach,” ages before the man was ready to welcome her onto the wonderful compound he lives in with his friends and coworkers.
What would you suggest such a man do with such a woman in this, again, hypothetical, situation.
And, also, don’t forget to mind your own business when considering this dilemma.
Heidi: …
Heidi: …
Heidi: Well.
Heidi: This feels like something you should talk to Stryker about, buddy. I’ve never kidnapped a woman, by proxy or otherwise. So. Let me know how it goes!
Could she be less helpful?
I sigh, copying my hypothetical and pasting it in my text thread to Stryker, my… boss person, technically. The thread mostly contains threats from him telling me to apologize to his wife, Millie, for some prank or another. Honestly, she’s so sensitive about her silly little car.
He replies to my message instantly.
Stryker: I married mine. Do you have unauthorized guests in the compound?
Hm. Marry her.
I glance at Sarelia, and she starts when our eyes make contact, yelping and almost spilling her tea.
Heh. Cute.
I spare her, going back to my phone.
Archie: Stryker said to marry her.
Heidi: Marry her???
Archie: He said, and I quote, “Marry her, you idiot.”
Heidi: Huh. Well… I guess marriage would be more convenient than paying someone to stalk her?
You’d save money, for one, and she’d be close enough to stalk her yourself, for two.
Personal stalking is way better than stalking via someone else.
When Stryker had me stalking Millie, I was always missing stuff he wanted to know.
I got yelled at, like, every other day, until I made him do it himself.
Think of all you could learn about her when you’ve got your own eyes on her!
Heidi: Not to mention, if she’s here, she’s safe, and if you’re married, then Stryker won’t put up a big fuss about her being here. It’s a win-win-win-win!
That… does sound rather convenient, actually. I hum, contemplating.
Archie: You’re suggesting a marriage of convenience?
Heidi: I am suggesting a marriage and pointing out the convenience, yes, but don’t you go blaming me for any tropes you stumble into all on your own.
I consider this. Then, I consider Sarelia, who covers herself in her enticing pink blush under my eyes.
How tantalizing, this plan.
I marry her.
How…
Absolutely perfect.
Archie: You’re a genius, my friend.