Chapter 16 - Anya
This morning I spent a few hours at the salon, getting my hair done. After that, I stopped to get a manicure and pedicure. My toes are bright minty turquoise, and my fingers are a gorgeous pale pink. My hair is lustrous and golden, hanging around my shoulders. I feel amazing.
Fresh and pretty and very happy.
Things in the house have changed since the party at Ardalion’s in LA.
I’m so glad I found the courage to tell him I was sorry.
And I’m so grateful that he found it in his heart to listen and acknowledge it.
Obviously, as I told him, it doesn’t change what I did, but it has taken a weight off the air between us.
I have a lot more freedom now. I come and go as I please. I have one security guard instead of seven. I’ve been exploring San Diego, shopping, spoiling myself, sightseeing, trying out some incredible restaurants, and spending days lying in the sun on the beach.
It’s amazing—but it’s still lonely.
When I was dating Emmanuil, he would sneak away from work to spend his lunch breaks with me.
He would sometimes work from home just so we could be near each other, even when we weren’t out doing things.
The simplest things, like going for a walk or roaming the old vintage shops, we did together, and they became the most special memories.
I’m walking down one of the old streets now, filled with thrift stores and vintage boutiques, and it’s lovely, but I miss him.
I push open the glass door of a quaint-looking store, a bell chimes above my head, and I glance up to see an old brass bell molded to look like it’s made from lace.
“Hello, dear.” A little old woman behind the counter says, smiling happily at me. “Are you looking for something in particular?” she asks, coming out from behind the counter.
Her dress is made from old floral material, pinched at the waist and edged with white lace. She looks elegant and purposefully put together.
Her gray hair is pulled into a tight, slick bun, not a hair out of place, and her lips are dabbed with pink lipstick, a touch smudged at the corner.
“You look wonderful,” I say, grinning at her. “I love your dress.”
“Oh, thank you,” she gushes. “I’ve had it since I was—since I was you’re age, actually. My husband still tells me it’s his favorite one.”
“Is this your shop?” I glance around at the tidy shelves, full of interesting treasures, but packed neat and orderly.
“Yes, Trevor and I decided to open this place five years ago. And it’s been a dream. I just love all the little trinkets from our past. They each bring back memories and often bring a lot of joy to our customers.”
I walk over to one of the bookcases, gently touching the spine of an old book.
“Edgar Alan Poe,” I mutter, expecting to find something more like Little House on the Prairie than this.
“And we have Wells and Lovecraft.”
I pick up a copy of Metamorphosis and carefully open the cover, gasping when I see it’s a first edition.
“Aah, my husband read that book a hundred times.”
“Franz Kafka did have a very unique imagination,” I giggle. “This book in particular was rather odd.”
She laughs. “I imagine it being a rather accurate account of what would happen if someone woke up and discovered they were a bug.”
“It’s a first edition, though. Why would you want to sell it? And you have it priced far too low,” I remark.
“Because money means very little when you reach a certain age. Like I said, we just hope to bring a bit of joy to other people now. I have everything that makes my heart full.” She gently touches a heart-shaped locked around her neck, a dreamy smile on her face.
Noticing my eyes on the locket, she opens it to show me a tiny black and white photograph of her husband. “That’s Trevor,” she says proudly.
“Is he—"
“Still driving me crazy? Oh yes, every day.” She huffs. “But I can’t imagine my life without him.”
I think about Emmanuil, how happy we were together, how I know I’ll never find that with anyone else. I really miss him. My heart clenches tightly.
“I’d like to purchase this book. And the Lovecraft, he’s my favorite oddity.”
I leave the boutique feeling wistful and dreamy, as though the little shop had some magical effect on me. Her words are still looping in my thoughts. I have everything that makes my heart full. All she needs is love in the end.
Spinning and walking in the opposite direction, I head back to the car.
I’ve decided that I’m going to buy some takeout for lunch and visit Emmanuil at his office.
I’ve been thinking about him all day, and if that’s what my heart wants, then that’s what I’ll do.
His favorite used to be a chicken and bacon wrap from the bakery on the corner near his building. I wonder if they’re still open.
Half an hour later, I walk into his building with a brown paper bag of lunch, his favorite wrap for him, and a salmon bagel for myself. I have a skip in my step, still feeling fresh and pretty from the morning’s pampering as I step out of the elevator on the top floor.
The receptionist greets me and tells me to go through. He’s just on a call, but it shouldn’t be long.
Instead of waiting outside, I decide to surprise him before she can call his desk and tell him I’m here.
I knock once and push his door open, smiling as I step inside.
He doesn’t look up from the aggravated pacing he’s doing. He has the phone pressed against his ear and a look of pure rage on his face.
He stops walking abruptly and suddenly yells into the phone. “Where the fuck was the security team? How did they get past twelve men, supposedly in the convoy?”
His voice booms through the space around me, and I freeze, tense and awkward, standing in the doorway.
“Did they get everything? The entire delivery was lost?”
Emmanuil begins to pace again, and I have no idea if he’s seen me or not.
Should I back away slowly? Pretend I wasn’t here?
Should I wait outside? Should I leave altogether?
It sounds like one of his operations went south, and he’s suffered a loss.
It does not sound like he wants any surprise visitors.
I slowly step back, through the half-open doorway, just as he hangs up the phone.
He looks up, his face scrunched, his eyes narrowed.
“Anya?” he says in surprise when he sees me, half-in and half-out of his office. I tense, my heart racing, my cheeks growing pink with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. We can talk another time,” I murmur with a tight smile.
“Wait,” he says, holding up his hand and walking towards me. He tugs the door all the way open. “Did something happen? Are you okay?” His eyes trace quickly over me, searching for signs of harm or stress.
I shake my head. “I’m fine, I just—" I hold up the bag of food. “I just thought—"
“You brought me lunch?” he says, his voice thick with shock.
“Yes, but I can see you’re busy, so it’s really okay, I’ll go.”
He chuckles, a wide smile breaking across his face.
“What did you bring me?” he asks, grabbing my arm and pulling me into his office, towards the sofas in the corner near the window.
His voice has changed, and the tension is gone when he sits down and pats the seat next to him.
I sit down too, setting the bag on the little table in front of us.
“I’ll give you two guesses,” I grin.
He narrows his eyes, mischief in his gaze. “You didn’t?”
“Chicken and bacon,” I grin.
“You did,” he laughs.
“I wasn’t sure if you still liked it,” I say, my heart fluttering at the sound of his laughter.
“Hearts don’t just stop liking what they like, Anya.”
I bite my lip, wondering if he’s still talking about food.
Sitting comfortably on the sofa next to him, we chat about the things I did this morning and the new books I got from the vintage boutique.
“I know that place. Many of the books in my library are from there. The old woman who runs it is very good at sourcing rare books.”
“She was really sweet,” I smile.
He bites into his wrap and chews, staring out of the window, across the city.
“Was everything okay earlier—on the phone? It sounded bad.”
He shakes his head, huffing in annoyance.
“Honestly, sometimes the incompetence of people just blows my mind. I hired an extra team to ride in convoy with an important delivery of stock I had going off early this morning, and even with the extra guys, the delivery didn’t make it.
I have to question whether or not someone on the inside was helping the attackers. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”
“Did it cost you a lot?” I ask.
“In product, yes, it was over a million. But also, more frustratingly, I lost three men, three good men who have been working for me for many years. It’s a loss that sits deeper. Money we can always make again, but this is just—it sucks.” He sighs.
I’m shocked by how freely he’s answering me, providing a lot of detail without hesitation.
My brother would talk about operations and attacks, and he’d let me know things that were going on in his business, but the stories were always guarded, keeping me safe from the gorier aspects, things that might leave me worried or afraid.
It annoyed me that he felt he had to protect me from the truth. I live in that world. I should know everything that’s going on. In fact, not telling me the details made it worse, because my imagination would fill in the blanks, and that would be more horrid than what really happened.
Emmanuil seems to understand the way my mind works. He understands me. He knows what he doesn’t need to protect me from.
“I’m sorry about your men,” I say gently, reaching out and placing my hand on his thick, muscular thigh. My fingers brush over his leg, and instantly, sparks shoot between us.
“Thanks,” he says. “I’ll need to put a care package together for their families today. I always make sure they are taken care of as best as they can be, but as I said—money can’t give them back the people they’ve lost.”
“It will help ease the burden, though,” I reassure him. “It’ll make their lives a little easier, and I’m sure they will appreciate the gesture.”
He turns to look at me, his eyes flooded with warmth. My heart tugs in my chest. I miss him.
“Will you go on a dinner date with me?” I blurt out.
His eyes narrow. “A dinner date,” he says slowly.
“Oh, um, I mean, dinner. Just dinner. Will you come to dinner with me?” I correct my words, knowing full well that I had wanted to call it a date, but that I meant to filter out that word before I asked.
“I would love to go to dinner with you,” he smirks, his eyes shining with mischief.
“Awesome. I’ll make all the arrangements. All you have to do is be ready at eight o’clock,” I say, excited.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“I’ll get out of your way for now, then. Thanks for having lunch with me.” I gather the empty boxes and place them in the takeout bag.
“Leave it there, my assistant will come in and clean it up.” He chases me away from the mess and leads me towards the door.
Standing in the doorway, he looks down at me, and it seems as though he wants to ask me something. I wait, my heart rate increasing the longer I stare at him. My intrusive thoughts scream at me to kiss him, but I won’t. I wouldn’t dare.
“You’re welcome to stop by anytime, Anya. It was a wonderful surprise.”
At first, I think he’s teasing me, but he’s not. He means it.
A massive smile spreads across my lips.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” I say, tilting my head to the side.
“You look exquisite, kitten,” he says, whispering in my ear as he leans down to hug me goodbye. “I’ll see you tonight.”
It’s funny how one compliment can have my knees weak and my thoughts racing. One simple compliment from one specific, beautiful man.
I hurry down to the car, smiling all the way, wanting to get home quickly so I can start researching a nice restaurant for tonight. I want it to be special. Even if it’s not a date-date. It’s dinner with a friend. A very gorgeous friend whom I have been in love with since the day I first saw him.
After an hour of reading reviews, I chose a steak restaurant on the beachfront. They got brilliant reviews for their New York-style steak and amazing butter sauce. Every man likes a good steak, and the views in the photos look gorgeously romantic.
At half past six, I hop in the shower, bundling my hair up out of the way.
After the shower, I take my time doing my make-up, already knowing what dress I’m wearing. A certain pink one that caused a stir the last time he saw me in it.
My stomach is filled with butterflies when I stand in front of the tall mirror in my bedroom, making sure my outfit is perfect from top to bottom.
It is. The pink dress is as gorgeous as the day I tried it on in the shop. With black high heels, it looks even sexier. My hair and nails are already fantastic, and basically, I hope to steal Emmanuil’s breath away a little when he sees me.
“I’m home,” he calls out from downstairs.
I hurry out of my room and lean over the balustrade. “I’ll be down in a minute, then we can go,” I call back to him.
He glances up at me and smiles, making my heart skip a beat.
When I come downstairs, he’s waiting at the bottom, and his expression is more than I could have hoped for. His mouth is open, his eyes wide, and his breathing fast as he watches me walk towards him.
“Wow,” he mutters. “I guess I’m the lucky man who gets to show you off in that dress after all,” he teases, complimenting me at the same time.
“Or I’m the lucky girl who gets to show you off when I take you for dinner,” I sass back at him.
His phone rings in his back pocket, and he holds up his hand. “One second, let me get rid of this and then we can go,” he smiles, his eyes stealing another roam over my body.
While he’s talking, he walks away, muttering under his breath. I can’t hear the conversation, but by his body language, I can tell he’s annoyed.
The call lasts only a few minutes, and when he turns towards me, my heart sinks.
“I’m sorry, kitten. I have to postpone our dinner,” he groans.
“What happened?” I ask, trying not to let my disappointment show too much. I was really looking forward to his.
“There’s been another smaller attack on one of our delivery trucks. It looks like the same MO, and they caught one of the men. I want to go down there and have a conversation with him.”
“Can the conversation not wait until tomorrow morning?” I ask, pushing my luck a little.
“He’s…not doing so well,” he says cautiously, watching my response.
“Oh, I understand.” I nod. The guy might not survive until morning.
Emmanuil strides towards me and pulls me into a hug. He kisses the top of my head and says, “I promise you, I will make it up to you tomorrow night. And make sure you wear the same dress,” he grins.