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I can’t believe it’s possible to fall for someone this fast. I can’t trust my feelings, I know that for sure. I’m just having a crush, that’s all it is. It’s not real.
I get flashbacks of being naked, coming onto him, telling him I wanted to be spanked, begging him to fuck me. Did I really do that?
I cringe when I think of it. I’m lucky he didn’t have me committed.
Sure, he kissed me, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably kissed hundreds of women in his time. The way he acted afterward proved it didn’t mean much to him even if it meant the whole world to me. Just left us to breakfast without so much as a goodbye. My driver will take you home. Then gone.
I wish I had something to compare this to. But I’ve never wanted any man before. This is all new.
So I decide the best way to handle it all is to throw myself into work. I ignore the doubts and questions and confusion swirling around my head.
I’ve got a couple of thousand words done before Teresa comes to tell me they’re closing for the night.
I groan as I stretch back in my chair. “Have I been here all day? No wonder I’m hungry.”
She smiles back at me. “You’re too young to spend your life in a library. You should be out there living it up.”
“I tried that last night. It did not go well.”
“Something happen?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Just your average drink spiked, fell unconscious, rescued by a tall, dark, handsome stranger, woke up in his house, tried to touch him up, kind of evening.”
“It was the man who was watching you the other day, wasn’t it?”
“What man?”
“The man in here. Dressed in a suit. Standing right over there watching you while you were working. I thought maybe he was a police officer or something and you were under surveillance.”
“Didn’t think to tell me?”
“I didn’t want to interfere. What if you had committed a crime?”
“The last crime I committed was returning one of your books late.”
“Which is a capital offense but enough of that. It is the man you liked, isn’t it? He’s cute. I like him. Be off home and write love letters to your mysterious man.”
“I don’t love him!”
“Try telling your face that. It’s clearly fallen head over heels already.”
I get up, trying not to blush. It’s not a comfortable feeling knowing other people seem better able to read me than I can read myself.
“Good night, Teresa,” I shout as I head out the front door.
“Good night, Ophelia,” she shouts back from somewhere deep in non-fiction. “I’ll see you soon.”
It’s an odd evening. Usually, I don’t think twice about walking home beyond the usual scanning the street for trouble. But tonight is different. Every face seems to be a threat. Every car going past a potential kidnapper. I don’t normally feel this paranoid.
I guess it’s to be expected after what happened yesterday. I still have great big gaps in my memories but there’s a graze on my knee, a lump on my head. Mementos of a night I can’t remember.
I get a sudden need for Vincenzo to be by my side. I feel completely safe around him. Like nothing can ever hurt me.
He was such a gentleman. I tried to make him fuck me last night and all he did was put me to bed, knew I wasn’t right. He might think he’s a bad guy but, around me at least, he can clearly be good when he wants to.
I rush along the street, pushed by the wind, my eyes darting around, certain I’m being watched from some dark corner just out of sight. Every shadow makes me jump. Maybe I’ll work from home the next couple of nights. Or at least leave earlier, while it’s still light.
I’m glad when I make it home and I can lock the door behind me. “You all right?” Cathy asks, looking up from the TV. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
