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But I wasn’t.
For some inexplicable reason, I was slowly going insane thinking about this man I didn’t even know, the picture of him creeping into my thoughts unbidden, at random and increasing times throughout the day and night.
I was becoming obsessed.
It wasn’t healthy or even wise to be so preoccupied with thoughts of this man who could snap my neck without batting an eyelash, but I couldn’t help myself.
So here I was, against all better judgment, stalking the stalker.
Which was why I was now in some posh apartment building that I imagine costs more per month in HOA fees than my monthly mortgage, creeping around corners, shadowing Cal’s every move, hoping to catch him alone and not knowing what I was going to do once I did.
Watching Cal get in his workout regimen was an unexpected but welcome treat. I enjoyed watching him work up a sweat. When a man joined him a while later, I had trouble figuring out if they were friends or acquaintances, Cal’s reaction less than welcoming. Then they went for a drink in the dining room, which in itself speaks to the cost of the place. Taking a seat beside a potted palm, I ordered a small, overpriced salad to munch on while I watched them interact at the bar over a couple of drinks.
We spent nearly an hour in that room, and again, I was surprised I had yet to get caught. For a man who made his living off lurking in the shadows, he sure wasn’t aware of his own surroundings.
For as long as I’ve been watching, though, I feel as if I haven’t learned much. Even unwittingly, Cal keeps his cards close to the vest.
I intend to learn more. I want to know everything.
Curiosity killed the cat. The thought has run through my head numerous times, and it returns, louder, as Cal and his friend leave the bar and part ways, and I follow.
How will he react when I reveal myself? I didn’t come this far not to. I always knew it was the end game. I have plans, wants, needs, and they all started the moment we met under that bridge. I won’t romanticize our connection, but I know I can’t just walk away from this without a bit of exploration first.
Will he be open to exploring it with me?
Something in me says no. Cal is a secretive man, and he won’t appreciate the intrusion, but here I am, watching the doors to the elevator close and waiting for the numbers to stop climbing.
When they finally do, I jump onto the next available elevator and punch his floor. My foot taps impatiently as I wait, feeling every precious second pass and the narrow window to finding his room closing.
If Cal reaches it before I can get there, I may never know which apartment he’s in.
My fears are realized when I get off on an empty floor. The hall splits off in opposite directions, the red runner with a gold diamond pattern and yellow overhead lighting continuing that hotel feel. I slowly and cautiously move down the hall to my right, my ears perked up, listening for any hint of Cal’s presence.
While this might feel like a hotel, the apartment doors are spaced widely apart, suggesting that the space behind each one is ample. I count five doors before reaching the end of the hall and turning back the other way.
Cal must already be inside his apartment, which is disappointing but also a relief. Had he not been when I reached the floor, he would have surely spotted me.
As it is, I consider where I’ll hide if he decides to leave again. There are no alcoves to duck into and no plants to hide behind. I am exposed, which means if we run into each other, my only option is to confess.
I breathe deeply, reminding myself this was my goal all along. No backing out now.
I pass a door and hear the muffled sound of music playing. Pausing to listen, I wonder if it’s the kind of music Cal might choose. Bette Midler? No. Cal is not a “Wind Beneath My Wings” kind of guy.
I move on.
I don’t know how much time passes, with me pacing the floor, waiting for something to happen, but eventually, it does.
A door opens. Leaning against a wall, I freeze, my entire focus on that sound. Waiting. Not breathing. And then…
Cal emerges.
As if my entire body suddenly comes back to life, my hearts slams in my chest, I gasp to catch my breath, and heat rushes to my head.
He’s as gorgeous as I remember.
His head is down as he walks, so he doesn’t see me right away, but when he does…
Our gazes meet, and his steps slow to a stop. I can’t read his expression. It’s stony, impassible. It could just as easily be shock and elation as it could be anger and murderous intent. I’m afraid of which side of the line he falls on, but that same fear is the spark that gets me moving.
