Page 3 of Emilio
Chapter Two
Larysa
Looking at the aftermath of my last show scattered and trashed in my room, I feel the sinking feeling overtake me. I have never kept my anxiety and depression from my fans or any of the team. I’ve been open about it and I like to keep it that way.
At first, I wanted to hide my mental health status from my fans and team. It took me quite a bit of courage to be open with people about my anxiety coupled with depression and then I finally opened up. It felt a lot more real when I told my fans who poured so much love out for me. It was amazing.
These pictures of me doing everyday stuff is what has me drowning in anxiety. Every ounce of self-coping skills I have developed has flown out the window. This asshole has pictures of me using the bathroom, getting out of the shower, eating dinner, walking my dog and putting on makeup. Everything I do during the day has been photographed.
I’m walking around the carnage with my hands on my head trying to wrap my brain on why I’m being targeted. My silk robe swishes around my legs giving me a sense of touch. I look at the pictures of me sleeping and this is the one that has me screaming.
Alto is rushing through the door with a random man following behind him. I don’t have a spare moment to question why this man is following behind him because Alto is pulling me into his chest.
“What’s wrong, kitten?” Alto mutters against my ear.
The affectionate nickname Alto has called me ever since he met me has me calming a little. Alto is great at what he does and I’m only assuming this stalker has him questioning how great he is.
If I were in a better place, I would tell him this wasn’t his fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault besides the stalker’s but I’m not. I’m wanting to blame my fear and frustrations out on someone, too. I don’t want to direct it all at Alto, though. I know he’s trying to protect me.
In the moments where my anxiety gets to be too much, it is hard to keep myself in check. It is hard to pay attention to the reality of what is going on.
Without saying a word, I point to the scattered pictures. The other man leans down and grabs the one of me self-pleasuring myself.
I’m mortified. I know everyone self-pleasures themselves, but I didn’t need it to be photographed. Plus, I didn’t need this random man to see me like that.
My ears turn red and I feel myself getting warm from the embarrassment. Alto rips the picture out of the man’s hands and chucks it behind him.
“Uh, my name is Emilio,” the sexy man mutters under his breath while looking me up and down. He’s wearing a fitted Armani suit and making me remember my status of undress.
Looking at him, I consider what he’s doing here. I’m running out of patience and decide to be rude and ask him anyway. “Who are you and why are you here?”
Alto clears his throat. “I’ve hired him to help me protect you.”
I push out of his hold and begin to pace. My finger is caught mid-twirl in my hair which is one of my nervous habits I’ve picked up which pisses me off. I’m tired of people knowing so much about me and this is just another tell for them. “I have you. Why do I need someone else?”
“Larysa, this stalker is coming at you hard,” he begins with his hands tucked in his suit pants. His body is quite large and intimidating for people who don’t him. I know that he can fuck someone up big time and I try not to get him too mad at me. “I can’t split myself in half until he’s caught and I need someone to help. I wish I could, but I can’t. This stalker isn’t going to stop until you’re dead.”
I untangle my finger and look at the other guy. Emilio. “How could you protect me?” I’m asking a serious question. The last thing I need is someone more looking over my shoulder at everything I do. I don’t need to feel like I’m being smothered.
Emilio’s chocolate eyes light up. His lips are full and curved into a sinister smile that has my insides tightening. “Let’s just say, I’m good at what I do. If you want to end up like the other popstar, not my fucking problem.”
The bluntness of this man has me taken aback. Not many members of my team are as blunt and harsh as he just was. I must say, there is something sexy about the way he just told me that. My muscles are tightening on their own accord as my sexual frustration reminds me again how long it has been since I’ve had sex.
Alto grips my shoulders to stop my pacing. “The man broke into your house in Greece and jacked off on your bed.”
Hearing those words has me dropping to my knees to carrel all of the photos. Emilio gets down on his knees to place his hand over mine to stop me.
The electric shock wave that zings through my body is enough to make me want to scream. I’m so sexually frustrated, I’m considering jumping him. What kind of person does it make me to be turned on during a situation like this?
I’m fucked up. I need to go back to counseling.
“Let me help. If you’re not satisfied,” he stretches that word out, “I’ll leave. I guarantee you will be satisfied, though. All of my customers are.”
I’m not sure if he means to be as forward as he is sounding, but it sure sounds like that. I’m equally turned on, scared and something else I can’t figure out.
