Page 14 of As Devils Love

Unless… he followed us.

No. Of course, not. It’s a coincidence I’m looking too deeply into the whole thing.

But if that’s the case, why is the cold dagger of fear quickly being replaced by hollow disappointment? Is his invasion of my home and wicked touch preferable to knowing I walked away unscathed?

Holy shit, I really am being crazy.

I gather my things and bolt out of my apartment, wanting to put as much distance between it and myself as possible. A twenty-minute taxi ride later, I’m inside my boutique, with a big mug of coffee in hand, waiting for customers.

After the first two hours tick by with just a few window-shoppers and browsers, I come to the same realization I always do. Opening without any appointments lined up is a huge waste of time. Although I’ve formed a small community of upper-class woman, who want what I make, I still lack the credibility of a big brand name as far as the general population is concerned. It can’t help that my entire operation consists of my two seamstresses and me. Where mainline shelves are stocked with at least four sizes of each article of clothing, I don’t have the staff to keep everyone happy.

In my fugue state of boredom, waiting, and letting my overactive imagination run wild, I catch a glimpse of something outside. I swear I see my mysterious stranger standing between the cars in the strip mall’s parking lot. He’s dressed, from head to toe, in the same outfit as last night. Jeans, leather jacket, and a biker mask that covers everything but his eyes and his dirty blonde hair.

A truck obscures my short glimpse of him, and after it passes, the place where he stood is vacant.

Oh good, now I’m seeing things. It’s easier to believe my mind is playing tricks on me. Searching desperately for an answer, and too sleepy to function properly, I’d take anything out of context as long as it fits the narrative I want it to.

I decide it’s a dud of a day and close my doors, before retreating to my studio in the back. I spend a couple minutes going through patterns and ideas, and then I collapse onto a pile of unfinished projects and material scraps for a long nap. When you’re as tired as I am, it’s surprising what could be considered comfortable enough to sleep on.

Deep, dreamless sleep follows, until I wake up to a call from one of Father’s men. I expect him to give me a long set of instructions on how best to get to the family mansion, but to my surprise he tells me to meet him in the parking lot.

I creep almost nervously to my store’s front window and peer out to see if I can spot my father’s man out there. The most I can make out is the Napoli-signature midnight-blue G-Wagon. It’s the same car all of Father’s made men drive.

After what happened yesterday, and the sudden change in how we usually do this, I’m not taking any chances. The G-Wagon’s tinted windows aren’t helping, either. For all I know, the shadow moving behind the steering wheel, is that jewel-eyed monster, coming to finish off what he started last night.

I’m way too on edge. He was a guy in a club. Where we wore masks. He’s definitely out there somewhere, just nowhere near me. I’m creating demons in my head to justify a bad thing that happened to me. And while that’s okay, sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.

Here goes nothing.

I exit the shop and lock up before I head to the G-Wagon. The doors unlock as I get to the passenger door, and I swing one open.

“Evening, Miss Napoli. Let’s get going,” the driver glances in the rear-view mirror as if looking for someone.

“Hi,” I say, and crawl into my seat. There’s a touch of sadness hidden in my tone, and I have no idea why.

Unless I do, and I don’t want to admit it.

Shrugging it off as we start to drive, I turn my attention back to the brute in the driver’s seat. Looking at him, reveals how little I actually know about the mysterious stranger from last night. Apart from his dark-brown eyes and the deep crow’s feet running from the corners of his eyes, they could be one and the same person. I chuckle at the lunacy that’s kept me in its grip all day and snap back to reality.

“Did my father send you here? To take me home?” If I wasn’t sitting down already, I’d fall to my ass in astonishment. I can’t believe it took me this long to realize how unprecedented this is.

“Uh-huh,” his answer is less than satisfactory. But maybe he doesn’t know how big a deal it is for my father to have normal people see I’m his daughter.

“And he isn’t worried about anyone seeing us?” I furrow my brow at him. I better get more than a grumble for an answer this time.

“Said it’s for the best.” Darn it. Four words is definitely more than a grumble. He keeps his deadpan gaze on the road ahead, as the car starts roaring through the higher gears. Before long, we’re cruising in overdrive and heading down the highway at a ludicrous speed. No cops will dare stop us, I’m sure. Father has far too many of them on his payroll.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” I humph and turn my attention away from him.

“Nope.” Our conversation dies with that single word, and we drive the rest of the way in silence.

When we stop at Father’s mansion, I find I am in a rush to get this over with, and I head straight for the dining room. I barely make it down the first hallway before a gentle voice comes from behind.

“Miss Napoli.” I turn around to see a beautiful, young blonde wearing a black and white maid’s outfit. Behind her, other members of staff carry serving trays, in the opposite direction of where I’m walking. “Mr. Napoli instructed us to move dinner to the veranda.”

His second favorite spot.

“Thank you.” I follow along behind her and the others.

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