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It’s nearly five-thirty, and although my back’s aching and my eyes are stinging, I feel like I’m on the home stretch now.
Lucian was as good as his word and ordered a delicious lunch from the deli down the street. He came out to my desk at around twelve-fifteen and showed me the menu on his phone. I chose a garden salad with grilled chicken. He had a turkey sandwich, and it was all delivered about thirty minutes later.
“How’s it going?” I look up to see Lucian leaning against his open door frame. At some point today, he must have taken off his jacket, although this is the first time I’ve noticed, and for once, he’s undone his tie and top button, which is unusual for him. He’s normally fastidious about his appearance… not that he looks anything but tidy, even now.
“Nearly there,” I say as I turn my attention back to my computer screen. “I think I should be finished in about an hour.”
He nods his head. “I’ll just call Shelby and let her know I won’t be home in time to see the girls before they go to bed.”
“You don’t have to stay.” I glance up at him again. “I can manage by myself. The worst of the changes are done, and the rest are self-explanatory. I’ll email the file to you when it’s finished.”
He comes over to my desk, perching on the edge. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you here all alone. Do you want me to get you something to eat?”
“No, thanks. I’d rather just finish up and go home.”
“And how do you usually get home?”
“On the bus.”
“Not tonight. I’ll take you.”
I drag my eyes away from the computer screen again and look up to find he’s staring down at me, his brow furrowed. “I’ll be fine, really, Lucian. You don’t need to wait… or take me home.”
“Yes, I do. It’s my fault you’re having to work late, and I’ll feel happier knowing I’ve seen you to your door.”
He gets up and goes back into his room, making it clear the decision has already been made. I could argue, but I’m too tired, and besides, I like the idea of being driven home rather than waiting for the bus.
I get back to the report, vaguely aware of people leaving the office for the day, and Lucian’s voice in the background as he talks to Shelby. She must be very understanding, because I can hear him laugh. Within fifteen or twenty minutes, though, everything goes much quieter. Lucian has clearly finished his call, and everyone else has gone. Although I’m still busy, still concentrating on the job at hand, I’m glad Lucian said he’d stay. I’m not sure how I’d feel about being completely alone in a deserted office.
I flick through to the end of the report. There are six pages left, and I stretch my arms above my head. I’ve got a niggling pain in my back and I long to get up and walk around a little, even though I know that will only delay me further… and Lucian too, for that matter.
The next page only has two amendments and I complete those quickly, turning it over, just as my phone beeps, letting me know I’ve got a message. It’s in my purse, and I know I could ignore it. Except it’s probably my mom. She often contacts me at this time, knowing I’ll have just finished work. I don’t want her to worry, so I save the document and reach down to my bag, opening it and pulling out my phone.
I frown as I gaze at the screen. The number is ‘unknown’, and it looks like there’s an attachment to the message. I click on it and let out a gasp.
What’s going on?
What is this? I mean… I know what it is. It’s a picture of me, standing outside the office doors. But why is someone sending it to me? There are no words, just the photograph, and I study it a little more closely. It wasn’t taken today, that’s for sure. I didn’t wear this jacket today. I wore it on Friday, though, because it was raining… and I put my hair up then, too, just like it is in the picture, which I didn’t today, because I overslept and didn’t have time for anything so fancy. It could have been taken any time, I suppose, but either way, it’s creeping me out and I delete it, blocking the number, and shuddering slightly before I put my phone back in my purse.
I know it sounds odd, but I feel like someone’s watching me now, even though I know there’s no-one in the office, except Lucian and myself, and although I try to focus on the document, and getting it finished, I can’t help wondering who could have taken that picture, and why they’d want to send it to me.
Lucian parks his BMW outside my apartment building, having followed my instructions to get here.
“Thanks for bringing me home,” I say as I turn and look up at him, smiling.
“You don’t have to thank me, Livia. I’m the one who made you work late. Bringing you home was the least I could do.”
I open the door to get out. “Well, I’m grateful.”
He nods his head. “See you tomorrow.”
He doesn’t offer me the opportunity to come in late, but I didn’t expect him to. He’s got an eight-thirty meeting with several department heads, and I’ll need to be there to take notes.
I give him a wave, closing the door, and he pauses for a second or two before he pulls out into the traffic as I turn, crossing the sidewalk and entering my apartment building.
It’s quite old, red-brick, and doesn’t have an elevator. I don’t mind that. I like the exercise of climbing up to my studio apartment on the fourth floor, although today I take the stairs more quickly than usual, opening my front door and slamming it closed behind me, before I finally let out a long sigh of relief. Why did I do that? It’s not as though there was anyone following me. But that photograph has left me feeling nervous.
I open the small closet to my left, hanging up my coat and purse, and then wander past the kitchen area, into the living space. I do my best to keep it tidy in here, but I have to eat, live and sleep in this one room, so it’s not easy. My attention is caught by the piles of books, and the magazine lying open on the floor, beside the cup and plate I left there from my breakfast this morning, and I wonder if I could try harder. The room is dominated by my bed, which, by rights, should currently resemble a corner couch. Except I rarely bother to change it back in the mornings. I just leave it like this… an unmade bed, with the pillows and covers scattered. Unlike most things in this place, though, they actually have a home. The shorter end of the couch can be raised to reveal a handy storage space, perfect for bedding… when you’re not the kind of person who just leaves it lying around, that is.
