Chapter 5 #2
See, this is why I don’t belong in this dark world, filled with suspicion and criminal dealings.
I’m smart, but not street smart. I know that.
I’m aware that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and it’s not like I’ve taken a class on these things.
Sign me up for Becoming a Mafia Princess 101, please!
I run back to the desk and grab my purse, rummaging through it to find my phone. I text my grandmother, telling her someone is at my door and asking what to do.
Ten seconds go by. The man knocks again.
He waits another fifteen seconds before knocking again.
I bite my lip. Still no answer from my grandmother.
I consider calling her, but then the phone on the nightstand rings.
It makes me jump. I didn’t even know those like…
actually ring. Who the hell would be calling my room?
My heart races as I pick it up. “Hello?”
For some reason, I expect some creepy male voice to whisper back, to tell me he’s watching me, ala Ghostface.
But it’s a female voice, chirpy. I recognize it as the voice belonging to the girl at the front desk that checked us in.
“Hi! This is the front desk. We’ve been told that there’s a delivery for you, but there’s no response at the door.
I just wanted to check and make sure you can answer it.
The delivery needs to be handed to the room’s occupant and not left behind. ”
I relax a bit. Well, it can’t be a guy sneaking up to attack me posing as a delivery worker if the front desk is aware of it, right?
“Oh, uh…sorry, I was napping.” It’s not a complete lie, right? I was, but that’s not the reason why I didn’t open the door.
“Ah, sorry for waking you, then, miss. But Mr. Alasdair was clear that he wanted it handed to you directly and no one else, and that we were to reach out if there was no answer. He seemed to expect this.”
Alasdair. Ah, fuck. That’s what my grandmother said his real name was, wasn’t it? The name I may be taking on as my own? If he wanted, I guess. Maybe he didn’t want me taking his last name.
“Ah, right. Sorry about that. I’ll answer the door now.” I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. Why was he sending me flowers…? Was this some kind of threat or something?
“Great! Have a lovely day.” The girl chirps back.
My response is far more subdued. “Thanks. You too.”
I hang up the phone, almost on autopilot. I realize my hands are trembling as I go to the door and unlock it, opening it. The delivery man looks bored waiting for me. “Ah. Ms. Astero?”
I feel my throat tighten as I nod. “Yeah. Sorry about the wait.”
He flashes me a smile. “Not a problem. Here you go.” He hands me the beautiful vase of white roses, some sort of blue flower, and white lilies, with a dark greenery. The vase is dark blue, too. It’s like he knew that it’d match my room.
I shiver. It’s creepy.
“Thank you. Uh, I don’t have any cash for a tip…”
The man laughs. Why would a tip be laughable? “No worries. Whoever sent you those flowers already tipped. Enjoy.” He doesn’t wait for a response before turning and heading towards the elevators, whistling as he goes.
I turn and head back into the room, setting the flowers on the desk before hurrying back to lock the door again. I slowly cross the room to look at the flowers. They look like they must’ve cost a pretty penny. There’s a note attached. I grab it with trembling hands, flipping it open.
Dear Amy,
Here’s to our future.
Kerry
Short and sweet. Well, I know his name now. And I don’t think there’s going to be any luck in shaking it from my mind. It’s filed away now, and the panic from this delivery wasn’t enough to cloud it. In fact, I think it heightened my attention to it.
It’s a nice note, I have to admit. Nothing about it is innately creepy, not really. Other than the fact that he knew my room number and all that. But it still feels creepy.
But hey, he’s also a powerful man with a lot of connections. Maybe he doesn’t realize how it might come across.
Or he did, and it’s a threat. Or some kind of power move. I mean, he’s already doing that with my grandfather, why wouldn’t he do it with me? Put me in my place and set expectations from the start?
I suspect that’s exactly what he intends to do.
I peek around in the flower arrangement to look for any sort of listening devices or cameras, just in case. That’s what these people do, right? Not that I would know, my information is mostly from movies.
My phone dings and I rush to it. My grandmother finally replied.
Accept it. Quickly. To reject it would be highly offensive.
Well, it’s a good thing I did. But clearly she didn’t have concerns about me being kidnapped or murdered. Not sure if that’s because there’s actually no threat, or if it’s just apathy on her part. It’s a callous thought, but this situation has me rethinking how much they ever really cared.
It’s strange that the man called the Irish Demon is the one who’s been the nicest to me so far, just by sending me flowers.
The bar is so low, it’s in hell. But apparently Mr. Demon is, too, so he can reach it.