Page 11 of Ivory Sins
“I'm not a fool, Ollie,” he says, his eyes boring into mine. “I know you're hiding something. I just need to know what, so I can know how to protect you.”
I swallow hard, tempted to come clean, but it's too risky.
Just then, his phone rings, breaking the awkward silence between us. He hesitates for a moment before digging his hand into his pocket. Without taking his eyes off me, he answers. “Yes?”
Marco doesn't say another word, nor does his expression change. He just stands there, listening to the caller on the other line.
“Alright, keep me posted,” he says and hangs up the phone. “That was one of my guys. They have eyes on the man from the coffee shop the other day,” he says to me.
My brows furrow, and my heart stops for a second. Marco's getting close to the truth. Too close. A wave of heat spreads across my body, and now I'm sweating in weird places. “Why doyou have your men following him?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Why shouldn't I?” he shoots back, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “He was the reason for your panic attack that day.”
I rise to my feet, my anxiety building as I walk a few paces past him.
“His name is Hunter.” Marco's voice stops me in my tracks. “Hunter Calderon. Ring a bell?”
I turn around and he still has his back to me. Seconds later, he swivels and meets my gaze, his expression blank.
Yes. The name rings a bell.
I remember him now. Hunter Calderon was a former client of the Bellanti family, who was quietly removed from the organization. This happened years ago, after I found out that he'd been skimming money and secretly dealing with our rivals.
The man used to be a forensic accountant for the FBI, before my father recruited him, meaning he was goddamn good at what he did.
Hunter was smart in double-crossing the Bellanti and covering his tracks. I had to be smarter to smoke him out.
I remember just how obsessed he was with me back when he worked for my family, how uncomfortable his perverted glances made me feel. No wonder he looked so familiar the other day–how could I have forgotten his face?
“Hunter Calderon is your stalker,” Marco says, his voice flat but laced with conviction. “He's the one planting those bloodied dolls and sending subtle threats. He's messing with you, for revenge, or fun, or just out of spite, considering what a psycho he is.”
He knows. Hunter knows my little secret–he knows what happened seven years ago. But how? God, I'm so screwed,I think to myself, my heart sinking into my belly. My breath catches in my throat and my chest heaves slowly.
“Calderon seems to have something on you,” Marco says, drawing closer to me. “I need to know what that is.”
My heart skips and my feet immediately turn cold.
“This is more serious than you realize, Ollie.” He halts in front of me. “My men just informed me that Calderon was spotted near your apartment and when they got there, they found your place ransacked.”
Oh My God. This is escalating.
“That's not the creepy part,” he says. “They found video footage of you in your apartment being played onyourTV screen.”He pauses, letting the words sink in. “He's been watching you, Ollie.”
Cold sweat dampens my forehead the moment he explains the gravity of my situation. I shiver and feel like I’m unable to carry my own weight and I can feel my heart pounding like a drum.
He reaches out and takes my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please,” he begins, his voice soothing. “I need you to just trust me and tell me what's going on. Please.”
My eyes mist and my lips quiver as I stare blankly at him. I want to open up and tell him the whole truth, but I'm too afraid of the outcome. I open my mouth to talk, but no words come out. It's like I'm too numb to think or speak.
He lowers his head, fingers rubbing his eyes as he exhales sharply. “Okay.” He meets my gaze again. “I'll tell you why I really disappeared three years ago. Who knows? Maybe my honesty might make you comfortable enough to trust me again.”
It feels good to finally hear his side of the story, but I'm yet to find my voice and organize my thoughts. It's a fucking mess in my head.
Marco withdraws from me, combing his fingers through his hair. He takes a moment to gather himself before speaking, “I disappeared on you three years ago because I had to—I didn't want to, but I had to.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, finally finding my voice.
He's quiet, his eyes pinned on me, and with each passing second, the suspense grows.
