4. Lilith
LILITH
As soon as Alaric is out of earshot, Hope pipes up, “I’ve got this.”
“Got what?” I whisper while a customer taps her phone to the screen.
Thirty percent tip. Generous.
Still nowhere near Alaric’s level.
Those five hundred dollars he tipped me were too much. Especially since I hadn’t earned them.
If anything, I was the least customer-service oriented I’ve ever been in my life. I stared for too long too. Blushed. Flirted.
Yet despite everything, I pleased him.
The tall, handsome doctor who smelled like expensive cologne and mine.
Hope arrives with the customer’s coffee, offering it to her while sing-songing, “Get out of here, Lilith.”
“Not yet. The shift change…” My excuse sounds weak even in my own ears.
I don’t want to stick around.
I want more of Alaric.
Truth is, I’ve been wanting more of him since I started working here yesterday, and other than that one glimpse up until now, I’ve gotten nothing.
I hadn’t caught a glimpse of him in the hospital, no matter where I searched.
Even when I went to his apartment building last night, the lights in his window were off. Assuming he was resting, I didn’t try to sneak in and risk waking him.
His absence had me more restless than I ever was during those seven years in Maine.
Doesn’t matter that I’ve been carrying his boxers in my hoodie pocket wherever I go. That I stole a second pair and stashed it under my mattress.
Knowing he was so close yet out of my sight had been hell.
Then he came to the counter. His eyes narrowed as he ate me up with his gaze. His jaw clenched.
His entire focus was on me.
I wasn’t his patient or a wounded kid anymore.
I was a woman he stared at as if he couldn’t get enough.
So, yeah, no wonder I don’t sound convincing in the slightest.
“If anyone asks, I’ll say you got your period and had bad cramps,” Hope says while grinning at the next customer. “Trust me, it’s fine. Go get your man. Or watch him. Whatever works.”
I’m so stunned by her words that I don’t say a thing. I just watch as the order ticket pops up and start putting it together.
“Thanks.” Accepting the tray full of an egg sandwich, napkins, and soda, Hope slides it over to the customer. “Here you go, sir,” she says, then whispers, “Lil, you’re obsessed with him, and it’s obvious he’s into you too. Why are you still here?”
Holy shit, she really means it. Hope isn’t just okay with me stalking my doctor. She brought it up and is actively enabling it.
Apparently, all this time, I was worried for nothing.
“Thank you.” The customer nods and walks off.
“You’re the best.” I pull her in for a hug.
“Love you.” Instead of returning my hug, her hands work the knot behind my back, ridding me of the apron. “See you at home.”
“See you.”
Butterflies swarm my belly as I get ready to leave.
I snatch my hoodie from under the counter and pull it on, grab my phone, and hand my shoulder bag to Hope to take home. After saying hi to the evening shift, I scoop up a large, empty takeout box to complete the delivery-lady-and-not-stalker look, pop it open, and take off.
I speed-walk through the hospital halls, make it out the main entrance, and there he is. Alaric is tall enough to stand out in any crowd, making it easy to spot him.
However, the warmth in my body doesn’t last. It fades two blocks later, when he passes the turn to his apartment building and keeps going straight.
Both curiosity and jealousy have my heart hammering against my rib cage.
For a moment.
Only until I see him go into a barbershop instead of one of the nearby buildings.
Since there are no other customers there, or maybe because he booked an appointment earlier, Alaric is shown to a chair right away.
He sets the coffee on the barber’s counter, then shrugs off his bag. In one elegant motion, he slides the straps onto the armrest beside him and settles into the chair.
My nipples peak into tight points as I watch his large frame fill the seat completely.
The barber tells him something before tipping Alaric’s head back so he can wash his hair.
Then…
Holy. Shit.
His strong throat is on full display, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.
I’d give anything to run my tongue over it.
Any-fucking-thing.
Not yet.
I am tempted, though. Incredibly so. Especially when Alaric lets his eyes flutter shut while the barber sprays water over his head. When he lathers shampoo into Alaric’s hair, I’m about to spontaneously combust.
That is, until a group of teenagers walks past the corner where I’m hiding. They talk about football, their loud voices dousing the fire in my body until nothing’s left.
I’m not pissed or anything. In a way, I’m grateful. If it weren’t for them, I might’ve let my hormones rule my actions, and that wouldn’t have ended well.
Calmer than before, I’m able to admire my doctor in peace. With his hair washed, the barber snaps the cape around Alaric’s neck and gets started on his haircut. I watch as he clips the sides and tapers the back, then trims the top.
My gaze tracks each strand of hair as it falls onto the cape. But then there’s a shift in the air, calling me to look up at Alaric’s face.
He appears pensive.
Could he be thinking of me?
Or maybe memories of that night from seven years ago are flooding back?
Impossible.
He didn’t seem to recognize me in the hospital. There’s no reason he’ll start connecting the dots now.
One day, I’ll tell him. Just not anytime soon.
Once the barber is done, I take a second to ogle him. He looks fresh and handsome, and yes, the barber has done an amazing job.
But Alaric will be hot no matter what.
Oh, crap, he’s coming out of the shop.
Quickly, I lean against the wall and hide, waiting to hear Alaric’s footsteps fade down the quiet alley.
As soon as they do, I pull the hood over my head, lift the empty cake box, and go.
My heart rate rises and falls like a roller coaster as I tail Alaric.
I can’t get enough of him. His confident gait. The power he radiates.
And he’s holding the cup I gave him. The ghost of my fingertips must linger there, on the sleeve.
My fingers still tingle where his brushed mine. My body remembers the shock that pulsed through me when we were skin-to-skin.
The feeling lasts until, eventually, he makes it home.
From a street corner nearby, I count to a hundred after he disappears into the lobby, then follow him inside, slip through the revolving door, and stop at the doorman’s desk.
“Good evening.” To avoid being too recognizable, I maintain eye contact without lifting my head too high, letting the hood shadow enough of my face to blur the details.
It’s an act, one that’s easy to pull off since I’m equipped with an excuse and one of Alaric’s neighbors’ names. “I have a delivery for the Melvilles.”
“Okay.” The doorman reaches for the phone.
“Uh, sir, you can’t call them.”
“Excuse me?” Confusion flashes over the tall, lanky man’s face. His blond eyebrows, the same color as his hair, pinch together.
“Mrs. Melville, Emma, wanted the cake to be a surprise.”
I got their names from my PI last night. That rush fee really pays off now, as the doorman’s expression softens. By a fraction.
“I have her cell number right here.” He turns to the screen, sliding the mouse and clicking. “I’m sure if I just called her, we could clear this—”
“Sir.” Shifting on my feet makes me look nervous, so that’s what I do. “I’m kind of not supposed to say this, but there’s a reason for the secrecy.”
At that, his eyes snap back to me. “Oh?”
Living under Mom’s reign of terror turned me into an immaculate liar. It was one of the ways I survived her, saying all the right things to keep her from beating me up. Complimenting her dress. Telling her I cooked the takeout I’d ordered. Stuff like that.
Granted, it wasn’t foolproof. If the woman was out for blood, which happened more often than not, there was no stopping her. She would’ve slapped, punched, and kicked me no matter what I said.
Anyway. “Could you keep a secret?”
“Sure.”
“She said it’s for celebrating her husband’s life,” I say, lowering my voice. “I’m not sure what it means, other than it’s a big deal. Personal. She specifically asked me not to call or log it so it doesn’t tip him off.”
“Darn it.” The doorman returns to his screen, forehead creasing. “Wish I could let you through, but as you mentioned, she hasn’t left any instructions.”
Time to turn on the waterworks.
Imagining a world without Alaric or Hope in it does the trick, and fast. In a split second, tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision.
“Fuck.” As they roll down my cheeks, I cast my gaze to the floor. “I can’t lose my job over this. My boss said the next time I get an order wrong, I’m out.”
“No, wait.” I hear the mouse click. Then the keyboard. He must be double-checking to see if he missed anything. “I—shoot. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s fine.” I sniffle, sliding my eyes to his. “You tried. That’s all I could ask for. Call her and give it to her yourself if you must. I—I’ll figure it out. Even without references, someone out there will hire me.”
“Okay. Okay.” He runs his hand through his short hair. I do a small victory dance in my head. “I’m letting you through, but next time, please ask them to notify me.”
“Thank you.” A couple more blinks. A few more sniffles. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome.”
His green eyes are the last thing I see before I walk fast, but not too fast, toward the elevator bank. As far as he’s concerned, there’s a huge cake inside the box I have balanced in my hands.
While the elevator carries me to the floor Alaric and the Melvilles live on—thirty—my head stays bowed to hide the huge grin on my face from the security camera.
Ping.
I’m here.
My lungs press against my ribs as excitement fills them. I suck in a deep breath, exhale slowly, and step out.
First things first: the cake.
With my eyes glued to the floor, I set the box in front of apartment 30C, then immediately pull out my phone. If the doorman’s watching, he’ll think I got an important call. Probably my boss.
Though I keep up the act, whispering yes and no, and I’m dropping off the cake, don’t worry about it, what I’m actually doing is pacing back and forth near Alaric’s door.
Apartment 30D.
My ears are pricked, my entire focus resting on what’s going on inside his home.
It’s suspiciously quiet. No TV, no talking on the phone, no music.
Hmm. He can’t be asleep, seeing how he just got here.
My curiosity flares, then my cheeks heat as I wonder if he’s touching himself. If one of his hands grips the cup sleeve while he fists his cock with the other.
That thought turns me on like nothing else ever has. I whisper more yes, more I’ll be right there, just stop yelling at me when all I want to do is clench my thighs.
Desire coils inside my stomach the longer I’m here, but after a couple of minutes, I know my time is up. The doorman will only buy my act for so long.
Gaping as if my boss said something outrageous like you’re fired, I take an obnoxiously large step forward.
“Fuck,” I hiss as the box gets crushed beneath my sneaker. “Fuck, no.”
As fast as humanly possible, I pretend to hang up, pocket my phone, and scoop up the wrecked box. I sprint to the elevator, jabbing at the button while my chin stays tucked to my chest.
“Miss.” The doorman is there when the elevator doors slide open. As suspected, he’s been watching my award-winning performance. “I can talk to your boss for you. I’ll help smooth things over with them.”
“She said if I get there in the next ten minutes, I still have my job. They’re already working on the cake. Again.”
“I won’t keep you then.”
I rush past him. “Thanks.”
“See you soon,” he calls out to me.
Oh, he will.
Just not as a delivery lady.
Next time, I’ll belong to Alaric.