Page 13 of Veil of Obsession
I turn toward the entrance, the heavy wooden doors reflecting the dim glow of the lobby lights inside. Stepping in, I’m greeted by the warmth of the interior, an elegant contrast to the cool evening air outside. The lobby is rich and atmospheric, with its dark wooden walls and intricate tile flooring that spreads out in geometric patterns beneath my feet. The receptionist’s desk curves elegantly along one side of the room, draped in a dark, ornate fabric that complements the room’s sophisticated style. Behind the desk, attendants stand poised. They avoid looking in my direction, hands moving smoothly over computer keyboards.
I pause at the receptionist’s desk. One of the staff members looks up and gives me a tight smile. He’s an older man with fine lines and gray streaks in his blond hair.
“How can I help you, Mr. Folonari?”
“Has anyone been in my apartment?”
I watch his face; his eyes widen, surprise flashing in them, and his mouth opens slightly before he closes it.
“No, sir. The cleaners only go in three times a week, and only with the express consent of the patron. I assure you no one has gone in.”
My fingers tap on the counter, my tongue running over my bottom teeth before I sigh. “Right. I don’t have any mail, do I?”
He shakes his head. “No. If you’re expecting a package, we’ll have it up to you ASAP.”
“No…no, I’m not. Thank you,” I say before turning to face the lobby.
Golden lamps cast a soft amber light over the space, bouncing off polished wood panels and the antique-style mirrors adorning the walls. A portrait of a woman in classic attire graces one side, her gaze timeless, almost regal as she watchesover the room with a quietness. The air is laced with a faint lingering scent—something woody and refined, like leather and aged whiskey.
I cross the lobby, each step echoing lightly until I reach the private elevator. A quick scan of my key fob, and the doors slide open smoothly, welcoming me into a softly-lit interior lined with warm wood and brushed metal. The elevator ascends quietly, the city lights slipping away as I rise above the street level. In moments, the doors open directly into my apartment.
The space is breathtakingly open, framed by massive glass windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, offering an unobstructed view of the city skyline. It’s a mix of industrial and refined with raw concrete pillars and polished wooden floors softened by deep leather furniture and warm lighting. Eli helped me pick this out when we were apartment hunting for my birthday. It was meant to be with Pa, but that…was no longer possible.
To one side, a two-story loft area is visible, filled with dark shelves lined with books and artwork, while a dining area and bar sit poised by the windows, ready for late-night drinks and views. The room feels alive, yet serene—a high-rise sanctuary above the bustling world below.
I drop my gym bag on the floor, and when I spot the cup from the Velvet Café, I know what that text is all about now. Next to it is a plain purple scarf. My hand wraps around the cup, and taking the top off, I sniff it.
Matcha latte with coconut milk. My usual.
Taking a sip out of the drink, I snatch the scarf up, inspecting it as if it’ll tell me who its owner is. Out of morbid curiosity, I bring it to my nose and inhale. The scent of caramel invades my nostrils, and from what I can gather, it seems like my little stalker may be of the opposite gender.
Interesting.
Putting down the Styrofoam cup, I make my way toward my kitchen before opening one of the drawers to look through for my favorite mug. Mara and Ma went to a pottery place and got it inscribed. I reach into the further part of the drawer, but instead of pulling out the mug, my fingers feel the smoothness of something other than the bottom of my drawer.
Clenching my jaw, I pull out the object and inspect it. It’s a delicate necklace with a small pendant shaped like the sun, with pointed rays radiating outward. In the center of it is a round purple gem; I can’t tell whether it’s a diamond or a different precious stone. I inspect the thin gold chain before turning the pendant around. My finger traces over the engraving:P.G.
Rummaging through the drawer, I find nothing else. I slam it shut, clenching the necklace in my palm. I guess Little Mouse dropped something while snooping. Snapping a picture of the necklace, I shoot a message to whoever has been stalking me.
Me
I guess you dropped something on your way out.
4
Princess
Lucio
I guess you’ve dropped something on your way out.
The text comes in, with an image of my necklace attached. My hand shoots up to my neck, and I feel around to where it should be.
Fuck!
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can’t believe I dropped it in his apartment. If I hadn’t been snooping more than I should’ve, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I nibble on the skin surrounding my thumb, wincing when I bite down too hard. Inspecting it, I watch as the small droplet of blood forms into a perfect circle.
He can see that I’ve read his text. I debate on what I should send back.
