Chapter 18 Anthony
Anthony
Istand in front of the entrance of Akira Sushi, watching Lila’s SUV pull away, satisfaction spreading through me like wildfire.
She found my gift. She saw me watching her.
And instead of fear or disgust, she raised her hand in acknowledgment, a small gesture that sends my heart racing.
The book I left on her seat wasn’t just any romance novel.
It was carefully chosen, a story about a masked man who becomes obsessed with a woman.
Just like us. I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face.
Fuck, that went even better than I expected.
The shock on her face when she realized who I was, priceless.
I watch her car until it’s completely out of sight, savoring the moment.
There is no way she doesn’t know it’s me now.
And she didn’t run screaming. She didn’t tell Mia.
She just waved at me, like we share a secret.
The night air is cool against my skin as I head back into the restaurant, the warmth and noise washing over me as soon as I step inside. Dillian’s still at our high-top, nursing his beer, a knowing look spreading across his face as I approach.
“So,” he says, pushing a fresh pint toward me. “That was interesting.”
I slide onto the stool across from him, unable to wipe the smirk off my face. “You could say that.”
“Lila. The woman whose house you broke into and I had to cover for you?” He keeps his voice low, though there’s no one close enough to hear us over the restaurant noise.
“Yep.” I take a long pull from my beer. “Lila Fischer. My sister’s friend.”
Dillian shakes his head, a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face. “Jesus Christ, Anthony. Of all the women in Maryland, you had to fixate on your sister’s best friend?”
“I didn’t plan it that way,” I shrug, remembering that first moment in the bookstore when I saw Lila, something electric passing between us. “I didn’t know they knew each other for sure until I started following her.”
“And you didn’t think that was a sign to back off? To find someone else to stalk?”
“I’m not stalking her,” I protest, though the denial sounds weak even to my own ears. “I’m watching her. There’s definitely a difference.”
Dillian snorts. “Right. That’s why you broke into her house.
That’s why you left a book on her seat before we came inside.
That’s why you stand outside her window at night like a fucking creep.
” He leans forward, his voice dropping even lower.
“That’s why I had to answer a 911 call at her house, because you scared the shit out of her. ”
The mention of that night hits differently, now that I’ve seen her face to face again, now that she knows who I am. “She didn’t look scared tonight,” I point out.
“She looked like a deer in headlights,” Dillian counters, but there’s less conviction in his voice. He saw it too, the way Lila looked at me, the recognition in her eyes that wasn’t just fear.
Our server arrives with two plates of sushi, setting them down with a practiced smile before disappearing again. I grab a piece of spicy tuna roll, popping it into my mouth to buy time before responding.
“You remember that 911 call,” I say finally, meeting Dillian’s gaze. “You saw her that night. Did she seem like a woman living a happy, healthy life?”
His expression shifts, a flicker of concern passing over his features. “No,” he admits reluctantly. “She seemed... tense. Jumpy. Said she’d had a fight with her husband right before she saw the intruder.”
“Eli,” I practically spit the name. “The guy’s a piece of shit. Tries to control her money, watches her on cameras, disappears for days at a time. Who knows where he goes or when he’ll come back.”
“And you know all this because...?” Dillian raises an eyebrow.
“I’ve been watching,“ I admit. “But not just her. Him too. There’s something off about him, Dilllian. He installs cameras all over their house but conveniently has none in his own office. Takes these long ‘business trips’ but doesn’t seem to actually work much.”
“So what, you’re investigating him now? Playing detective?” There’s skepticism in Dillian’s voice, but also curiosity. The cop in him can’t resist a potential case.
“I’m figuring him out,” I say, reaching for another piece of sushi. “And in the meantime, I’m making sure Lila knows she has options.”
“Options,” Dillian repeats flatly. “Like the option to fuck her stalker instead of her husband?”
I feel a flare of anger at his words. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” He challenges, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “Because I’ve known you a long time, Anthony. I know that look in your eye. You want her.”
“Of course I want her,” I admit, lowering my voice. “Have you seen her? Those eyes, that hair, the way she moves... But it’s more than that.”
“Enlighten me,” Dillian says, his tone softening slightly. Despite his skepticism, he’s giving me the chance to explain.
I take a breath, trying to put into words what I’ve been feeling since that first encounter in the bookstore.
“It’s like... I knew her before I met her.
Like there’s a connection that doesn’t make any fucking sense but is there anyway.
” I shake my head, frustrated at how stupid it sounds out loud.
“You're the one who was talking soul-ties. She’s trapped, Dillian. With a man who doesn’t appreciate her, doesn’t deserve her. And she’s scared to leave.”
“I know, man, but this is real life. My wife talked about it, I'm not sure how much I believe that. And you’re what, her knight in shining armor? Going to rescue the damsel in distress?” There’s a hint of sympathy in his voice, but also something else, understanding, maybe.
“If that’s what she needs,” I say simply.
Dillian studies me for a long moment, then sighs. “The 911 call,” he says finally. “You asked me to take it. Said you left books in her house and she freaked out.”
I nod, remembering that night clearly, how scared she’d looked through the window, how quickly she’d called the police. How relieved I’d been when Dillian answered.
“She was terrified,” Dillian continues. “Shaking. Said she saw someone in a mask outside her window, right after finding books in her library that hadn’t been there before.
I searched the property, didn’t find anyone.
” He gives me a pointed look. “Because you were hiding in the dunes like the creepy bastard you are.”
I can’t help but grin. “Guilty.”
“But,” Dillian says, his expression turning serious, “when I asked if her husband had ever hurt her, she got this look on her face. Like she was closing a door. Said ‘no’ but wouldn’t meet my eyes.”
My grip tightens on my beer glass. “He has,” I say with certainty. “Maybe not recently, but he has. She sleeps in her library. Pushes a chair against the door. Who does that if they’re not afraid of someone in their home?”
Dillian nods slowly. “I had the same thought. Domestic violence cases are the worst, victims often refuse to press charges, go back to their abusers.” He takes a thoughtful sip of his beer.
“But that doesn’t mean what you’re doing is right, Anthony.
Breaking into her house, watching her, leaving gifts. .. That’s not how you help someone.”
“It’s working, though,” I insist. “You saw how she looked at me tonight. She knows it’s me, the man in the mask, the one from the bookstore. And she didn’t run. Didn’t scream. She’s curious.”
“Or terrified,” Dillian counters. “Maybe she’s just trying not to piss off another man who might hurt her.”
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. Could that be it? Could Lila just be playing along out of fear? I think of that night on the steps, how she responded to my touch, the way she came apart beneath me. That wasn’t fear. That was desire, raw and real. But doubt creeps in anyway.
“I’d never hurt her,” I say, my voice low and fierce. “Never.”
“I believe you,” Dillian says, and I can tell he means it. “But does she know that? All she sees is a man who breaks into her house.”
I wince at his blunt assessment. “It wasn’t like that. She came at me with a knife. I was just trying to stop her from hurting herself when she slipped.”
Dillian’s eyebrows shoot up. “A knife? Jesus, Anthony. You didn’t mention that part before.” He shakes his head. “This is getting out of hand. What if she’d stabbed you? What if her husband had been home?”
“But he wasn’t,” I say stubbornly. “And she didn’t stab me. And now she knows who I am.”
“Does she, though? She knows you’re Mia’s brother. Does she know you’re the one who’s been watching her?”
I think back to the look on Lila’s face when our eyes met across the restaurant, the recognition that flashed there. “She knows now, she has to,” I say with certainty. “The way she looked at me... And she found the book I left in her car. I don't see how she wouldn't know.”
“And Mia?” Dillian asks, his voice gentler now. “Does she know what her brother’s been up to?”
I shake my head. “No. And I’d like to keep it that way, at least for now.”
“You don’t think she deserves to know that you’re stalking her friend?”
“I’m not—” I start to protest again, then stop, sighing. “Look, it’s complicated. Mia would freak out if she knew. She’d tell her, I need Lila to trust me first, to understand that I’m not the enemy.”
Dillian studies me, his cop instincts clearly at war with his loyalty as my friend. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” he says finally. “For both of you.”
“I know,” I admit. “But I can’t stop now. Not when I’m so close.”
“Close to what, exactly?” Dillian asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
I lean back, considering the question. What am I trying to accomplish here? What’s the endgame? “I want her to leave him,” I say finally. “I want her to be free. And then...” I trail off, the possibilities stretching out before me like a banquet.
“And then you want her for yourself,” Dillian finishes for me, no judgment in his voice now, just understanding.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I do.”
“Well,” Dillian says, raising his glass. “At least you’re honest about it.” He takes a drink, then sets the glass down with a thunk. “So what’s your next move? Now that she more or less knows who you are?”
I grin, already formulating a plan. “The Halloween masquerade at the club. Mia’s already invited Lila and Valerie. I’ll be there too.”
“Wearing your mask?” Dillian guesses.
“Of course,” I nod. “One last dance with the mysterious stranger before she fully connects the dots. Before we drop the pretense and see what happens next.”
“You’re enjoying this,” Dillian observes, something like wonder in his voice. “The cat and mouse of it all.”
“I am,” I confess, not bothering to hide my excitement. “And I think she is too. You should have seen her face when she found that book tonight. Shock, sure, but also... intrigue. Like she’s as curious about where this leads as I am.”
“Just be careful,” Dillian warns, the concern of a friend overtaking the professional skepticism of the cop. “With Eli, especially. If he’s as controlling as you say, if he has hurt her before... men like that don’t like having their possessions taken away.”
“Let him try something,” I say, a cold edge entering my voice. “I’m not exactly easy to intimidate.”
Dillian chuckles at that. “No, you’re not. But still, watch your back. And hers.”
“Always,” I promise, raising my glass in a toast.
We finish our meal. The conversation shifting to lighter topics, the motorcycle parts I’ve been waiting on, Mia’s plans to expand the print shop. But my mind keeps drifting back to Lila, to the way her breath caught when our eyes met, to how she clutched the book to her chest as she drove away.
As we pay the bill and head out to the parking lot, Dillian claps a hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth,” he says, “she did look at you differently. Not just scared. Something else.”
A grin spreads across my face. “I told you.”
“Just do it right,” he warns, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “And maybe try approaching her like a normal person next time. Ask her out for coffee or something, instead of breaking and entering.”
I laugh, the sound echoing in the night air. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Dillian shakes his head, already walking toward his car. “You’re a lunatic, you know that?”
“Takes one to know one!” I call after him, still grinning as I head toward my bike.
As I swing my leg over the seat, I can’t help but glance in the direction Lila’s SUV disappeared. She’s out there somewhere, maybe already home, maybe sitting in her library reading the book I left her. Thinking about me. About us. About what happens next.
The anticipation is almost as sweet as having her will be.