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“Me too,” I agree, hearing my shower calling my name.
We make idle chitchat as we walk across the lobby. Jared and Nathan are at their stations as we pass by. Jared is on the phone but waves at the both of us. Nathan is standing at the bank of computers, but he’s not watching them. Instead, he has his eyes planted firmly on us.
“That guy gives me the creeps,” Liv says, not lowering her voice. Nathan’s eyes narrow on her.
I elbow her in the side. “For goodness’ sake, Liv. I think he heard you.”
“I don’t give a shit if he did. He needs to learn to keep his eyes to himself,” she says, and glares over her shoulder at Nathan.
I wince with her harsh words and look over at him, intent on apologizing for her, but stop when I see the way he’s watching us. The look in his eyes is purely carnal. Not in the appreciative way, but in a way that says even as he’s watching, he’s imagining doing very dirty things to us. Things I don’t think either of us would be interested in. Things he knows we wouldn’t be interested in, but he does them anyway because he knows we wouldn’t enjoy them.
Nathan catches me watching him, and literately rakes his eyes down my body, slowly, landing on my ass for several seconds before bringing them back to mine. His lips tip up into a sneer. I whip my head back around, disgusted.
I may not know Nathan that well, and from what I just witnessed, I don’t want to. He’s never looked at me that way before. Yes, he’s been quiet, and I’ve felt his eyes on me before, but I’ve never seen that lewd look from him before.
Maybe Liv is right in her assessment of Nathan. I definitely got the creepy vibe from him. I’ll make sure to keep an eye out from now on.
I pull up to my house an hour later and grab my purse and the takeout bag from the small Chinese restaurant I sometimes stop at on my way home. The smell makes my stomach rumble, so I hurry along the walk leading to my door. Throwing my keys on the counter, I go straight for a plate and scoop some of the shrimp chow mein on my plate, then grab a water bottle out of the fridge. I lean back against the counter with my plate in my hand while I eat.
I’m three bites in when there’s a knock on my door. I’m startled at first; I never get visitors. Thinking it may be a neighbor or something, I set my plate down and check the peephole before opening the door. A man in a white dress shirt and tie, with some type of name tag is standing there holding a small brown package.
I open the door. “Can I help you?”
“Miss Lexington?” he asks, looking up from the clipboard in his hand.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I have a delivery for you.”
“But I didn’t—”
He thrusts the clipboard and pen at me. I look over the invoice, but it gives nothing.
“If I can just get you to sign right here,” he says, tapping the bottom of the page.
Confused, and a little dazed at what the package could possibly be, I numbly scribble my name across the signature line and hand him back the invoice. He flips the page over and rips off the sheet beneath it and hands it, along with the package, over to me.
“Have a good day, ma’am.”
I watch as he turns and walks away. I look down at the package in my hand, absentmindedly closing the door and walking to the kitchen. I try to rack my brain to see if I bought anything recently and come up blank.
I set the package down on the counter and look at it cautiously. It’s in plain brown paper and about the size of a small laptop box. I scoot it around and see no return address. I don’t really have any friends besides Liv, and she would have told me if she had sent me anything. Is it normal to receive packages out of the blue? What could it be?
Oh well, I guess there’s only one way to find out.
I turn it around so the end is facing me and slide my finger beneath the tape. Once the tape is loose, I pull a white box out. I suck in a sharp breath when I see the words Cosabella across the top. It’s one of my favorite lingerie brands. It’s also very expensive.
Nervously, I lift the lid and put it to the side. Pink tissue paper lays across the top. I lift it away and see a small white envelope resting on top of a sheer piece of fabric. I pull out a cream postcard size piece of paper.
Wear
me tonight.
Sterling
That’s it. That’s all there is.
Does this mean he’s going to show himself tonight? Warmth and excitement hits my chest at the possibility, then nervousness and uncertainty set in. Am I really ready to meet him?
