Chapter 26
LILA
Brooklyn
A few months later
Halloween Evening
“Are those for me?”
I stop at the top the stairs and catch sight of my neighbor, Mina.
She’s an elderly woman who’s lived her entire life on this street.
I look at the tray of cupcakes adorned with orange buttercream and laugh.
“No. But you can have one.”
Smiling, I take the stairs down while she closes the space between us.
Her eyes glint with pleasure as she picks up a plump cupcake with sprinkled bonbons on top and a dark chocolate spider half buried in the swirl of buttercream––a testament to her undying passion for desserts.
“You know this is my favorite day of the year,” she says around a bite of cake, pushing her eyeglasses up the ridge of her nose.
“Here. You can have another one,” I say, offering her a red velvet cupcake with sugar goblins on top.
“No, no,” she protests. “There won’t be enough left for your guests.”
There won’t be any guests, but I won’t get into that with her. I bought the cupcakes for me.
Keira and Nicky are going to a Halloween party, and I’ll be home alone.
Unless the bodyguard who religiously surveils the street, night and day, cares for a cupcake, these are all for me.
“Please, take it. There’s enough for me… And my guests,” I say to appease her.
“Thank you,” she says and takes another bite from the first one. “These are delicious. Thank you again. I need to go now. I’ll be late for my doctor’s appointment.”
I give her a wave while she rushes down the street.
An eye doctor has recently opened a private practice around the corner.
They have long hours on Thursdays.
I check the time.
It’s only six thirty.
I lift my gaze and look around.
We had a beautiful day today with plenty of sunshine, a nice breeze, a blue sky, and swirling clouds of rusty leaves.
Yet now the Halloween decorations steal the show, white and orange lights glowing above the doors, on the windows, and around the wrought iron fences.
I glance up at the entrance before I peer down the street, searching for that man’s car.
It’s not always the same man guarding my place, and they’ve never approached me, but they are for sure his men. I’m certain of that.
Once I spot the vehicle, I walk in that direction.
As the evening slowly crawls in, the temperature drops and gusts of wind sweep my cheeks, leaving cold kisses.
I pull up next to his car and knock on the tinted window.
Once. Twice. The window slides down after the third knock.
A rough-looking man stares up at me.
I tilt my chin toward the cupcakes.
“Would you like one?”
He tilts his stare to the tray.
“You can have two,” I say.
Without a word, he scoops up two cupcakes.
He places one in the cupholder and holds the other, looking at me.
“You need something from me?” he asks, as I stall for a few moments.
We’ve rarely talked to each other since I came home at the end of summer.
These men lived at Damon’s property upstate New York with Henrietta and me.
Henrietta had clear instructions from Damon on what she and I should do.
My feeling was that he’d talked to her that night when he was picked up by the police.
I suspect he knew he’d be picked up and talked to her before he arrived home and had sex with me.
She didn’t discuss that with me. I didn’t expect her to, and we never talked about Damon again.
We traveled to New York and spent the rest of the summer in his beautiful vacation home.
Damon’s men l kept an eye on her and made sure nothing happened to me.
She and I would often go to town and eat out.
I worked at a local boutique for the rest of the summer just to fulfill my obligations and caught up with Keira in the evenings.
I haven’t heard from Damon since that night when he told me that he loved me.
He eventually was cleared as a suspect in that triple murder––which doesn’t mean he didn’t do it–– and I thought for a moment that he’d fly up north and I’d see him enter the house, open his arms, and pull me into his chest.
That never happened.
I called him a couple of times, but he never answered my calls or called back.
I left it at that.
Once the summer break was over, I came home.
It felt so good to get reacquainted with my old life. I felt relieved. Henrietta and I no longer had to pretend that we were family.
We never were.
She’d never confessed to that, but I think she loved the fact that I was finally away from Damon.
She also must’ve felt relieved when I left.
The invisible string that had tied us together had finally started to unravel.
These past few weeks, I kept myself busy with school. Keira and I get together whenever we can.
She often travels to Washington to meet Nicky, or he flies up here to meet her.
When that happens, I do stuff at home. I like staying home.
And I’m still thinking about him. Damon West.
His men are still here, still watching me, so I’m convinced that one day he’ll show up or I’ll get a call from him.
My eyes focus on the man in front of me as he takes a bite.
“No. I don’t need anything from you. Enjoy your cupcake,” I say and give him a small smile before pulling away from him.
The window starts to slide up when I swiftly spin back to him.
The window stops.
“Actually, I do have a question.”
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles, chewing on his cupcake.
“Are you talking to him?”
“Him?”
“Damon?”
He shakes his head slowly, taking another bite.
“No, ma’am.”
“How do you know what you need to do?”
A smile curves his lips.
“We got clear instructions from him. We don’t need to talk to him every day.”
“What if something happens to me? Will you then talk to him?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me, no longer chewing on his cupcake.
“You’re not trying to create some problems, are you?”
I gesture dismissively at the silliness of his words.
“No, no. Of course not. I just wanted to learn how this works.”
He finishes his cupcake with a soft shrug.
“There’s nothing really to learn. All we need to do is protect you with our lives until further notice.”
He searches my eyes while I take in what he just said.
“No one will touch you.”
I honestly don’t know what that means.
Am I in real danger? Have I become a target because of my connection to him?
Whatever it is, it fuels my hope that I haven’t seen the last of him.
“Thank you,” I say with a faint smile. “Enjoy your cupcake.”
“I will, ma’am. I will.”
I smile again, turn around, and walk up the stairs.
Moments later, I place the cupcakes on a purple plate in the kitchen and turn on the floor lamps.
The place looks lovely with colorful blankets on the couches and plump pillows on the floor, both windows draped in Halloween decorations.
This will be one of the best Halloween nights ever, I decide before I head straight to the bathroom, take a shower, and put on one of my most comfortable bathrobes and my favorite plush slippers.
LILA
A cheerful group of people, small kids and their parents, walks past my windows as they go trick-or-treat around the block.
The streetlights have come on, and the wind blows harder through the piles of rusty leaves.
My eyes linger on a small girl with a jack-o-lantern plastic bucket full of goodies, her hand locked with her mother’s.
She wears a pumpkin colored velvet dress and a black witch hat. Her brown hair tumbles down her back.
Smiling, I watch them walk to the building glowing with lights and dripping with Halloween decorations at the corner before I shift my eyes to the other end of the street.
The man who’s usually guarding the street is no longer there, but someone is watching me for sure, as I have this feeling that someone’s eyes move over me.
No matter how hard I look for people staring in my direction, no one catches my eye.
Eventually, I pull back, move to the sofa, snatch up a cupcake off the tray, and sip pink lemonade when my doorbell rings.
I set my drink down, a little startled.
I’m not expecting anyone. I have no treats to give away. Swallowing hard, I push up and tighten the belt around my waist.
My first impulse is to go to the window.
From a certain angle, I can get a glimpse of whoever stands in front of the door.
My doorbell rings again, and I set myself in motion, dash to the window, and peer outside.
The broad shoulders of a man wearing a nice suit catch my eye.
I can’t see the man’s head.
He could be anyone.
It could be someone with official business.
My family lawyers are usually more tactful than this. They call and send emails.
We discuss matters over the phone and send legal documents through a messenger.
I rush to the door, push up onto my toes and peek out through the peephole.
“Who is it?” I ask loudly.
“It’s me,” a husky voice says, and my knees tremble.
I open the door and look for his eyes first.
Smiling faintly, Damon looks at me. He doesn’t wear a tie. His hands are tucked in his pockets.
His eyes are deeper than the ocean.
“Damon,” I murmur.
A gust of wind blows a few strands of hair over my face.
I brush them away with a tense hand, trying not to lose it.
“Happy Halloween,” he says, and I grin.
“Yes. Happy Halloween. Come on in,” I add, making room for him to step in.
The wooden floors creak under his firm steps.
“So, this is where you live?” he says, entering my apartment.
“You like it?” I ask, showing him to the sofa. “Can I get you anything?”
I look at him expectantly, realizing that we haven’t even hugged or kissed.
“No. I’m fine.”
He removes his hands from his pockets and undoes the only button of his jacket.
Carefully, he lowers himself on the sofa as if he doesn’t want to put a wrinkle in his pants.
He looks dreamily handsome, even more manly. More secretive. More powerful.
Things must’ve happened to him. All kinds of things.
The prospect of learning about those things makes me nervous.
This is the man who said he loved me.
And now, this is the man who checks the room like any other guest who entered it for the first time.
He shifts his focus to me.
“How are things with you?”
I crumble under his stare.
Afraid that I might choke on my emotions, I slide onto the sofa next to him and look down.
“Things are fine,” I say, staring at the empty glass of lemonade.