"If you can save it." Robin sets the food down on the counter and we inspect the plant together. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Every plant I get dies. And even worse, it's taking me less and less time to kill them."
"Good thing you have me," I grin, reaching for my watering can of tepid water and carefully pouring some into the plant’s cute cat-shaped planter. "I'll have it back to life in no time. You gonna let me keep this one too?"
"Why not?" Robin laughs. "It's not like you need another plant, but at least it won't instantly die in my house."
He's right. My house is like a jungle. I can't resist a pretty plant, and I somehow always come back with something new, leafy and green when I leave home. Even if I don't, Robin supplies me with his castoffs more often than not. At this point, I'm pretty sure he's killing them on purpose so he can cheer me up with a new addition every week.
"So?" he asks, the excitement clear in his voice as we settle on the sofa in the living room. "How did the shoot go? You didn't say anything earlier."
"I wanted to tell you in person." I pick up the TV remote and click on play and one of our favorite shows starts to play out on the screen. We both know it by heart now. Half of the time we spend together is just quoting the freaking show to one another. "It went well, I think."
Robin reaches for the remote and pauses the show. He's always afraid he'll miss something if we talk while we watch it, even though we've both seen every episode a thousand times. "Well, tell me everything. I got a text from Katya. She said the photographer was really impressed with you."
I laugh out loud. Katya, one of my brother's ex-girlfriends, whom he stayed in touch with – much to Elise's dismay – was the hairstylist on set. She's the one who told Robin that Raphael was looking for unique models. And then Robin wouldn't leave me alone for weeks, begging me to go through with it. He thought it would be good for me, and as hesitant as I was about the whole thing, it ended up working out.
"Well, first of all," I start, narrowing my eyes at him. "You didn't tell me it was a nude shoot."
He laughs, nervously scratching the back of his dark-haired head. "I figured it would be. But you're cool with that, right?"
Robin knows I'm nowhere near cool with that. Not that nudity is the problem. No, it's being exposed – all my scars plainly visible for the viewer. But I find myself nodding now, as if it isn't a problem at all.
"It was actually kind of fun," I admit. "And really exhausting. I must've been there for five hours or even more. Two to do the makeup and hair, and then another three of shooting."
"So, what's Santino like?"
"He's..." I struggle to find the right words. "Intense. Interesting." Freaking hot as sin, I want to add, but I force myself not to. Although Robin knows me so well, I'm pretty sure he can tell what I was going to say next. "I'm glad I went, anyway. Thanks for making me go."
"You're welcome," Robin beams before wiggling his brows at me. "Heard the guy asked you out."
I groan. "Katya really can't keep her mouth shut, can she?"
"Nope." My brother's grinning from ear to ear. "So, how'd you turn down this one?"
Despite the scar, I've been asked out a fair number of times in the past years since I moved out to LA. But I almost always turn down the men who ask me. After a few disastrous experiences – including one where my date turned out to be a plastic surgeon and spent half of dinner explaining how he could fix my scar – I've pretty much sworn off dating altogether.
"I didn't," I finally say. "We're going out tomorrow."
"What?" Robin's mouth gapes open. "You agreed to go out with him?"
"Why not?" I shrug weakly. "I haven't been on a date in almost two years. Figured I might as well try again before I fully commit to being a green-fingered spinster."
"Cute." Robin stares me down. "So what are you doing on your date?"
"Dinner," I blurt out, my cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as I feel his penetrating smile on me.
"Dinner," he repeats. "Wow. You must really like this guy."
Robin knows as well as I do, I never do dinner dates, because I hate eating in front of other people. It's always awkward, and I don't want to deal with their prying questions about why I'm just picking at the food on my plate and not actually eating anything.
"What are you wearing?" my brother asks next and I shrug.
"I don't know. The usual?"
"Nuh uh, no way." I groan as I look into his determined eyes. "Why don't you borrow something from Elise? I'm sure she'd be happy to lend you something, and you're the same size, too."
We're only the same size because his tiny girlfriend starves herself on a daily basis to fit into a size zero. But then again, am I not doing the same thing? Even though it's for different reasons, I'm no better than Miss Instagram model/resident bitch Elise Howard.
"Fine," I finally groan. Elise will fucking love this. For some unknown reason, she's obsessed with me. She constantly offers to do my hair and makeup. To take me shopping, to get my nails done. I've fought it off successfully for the past year she's been with my brother, but I guess this is my freaking breaking point. She'll be thrilled.
"Perfect," Robin says. "I'll shoot her a quick text to let her know."
He pulls out his phone, narrowing his eyes at the screen.
"Trouble in paradise?"
"She's texted me twenty-seven times in the past ten minutes," Robin groans.
"God, how do you put up with it?" I shake my head. "She's so possessive. It’s just as well she likes me. What the hell does she do when you're around other women you're not freaking related to?"
"You don't wanna know," Robin mutters, his fingers busy as he types a reply. For the next few minutes, he glares at his phone. "She's not replying."
"Maybe she's driving," I offer, which is a lame excuse, because we both know Elise texts while driving. "I'm sure she'll get back to you soon."
Just then, the sound of the doorbell rings out through the room. We exchange glances and get up from the sofa, both heading for the door. I open it, and of course, Elise stands on the doorstep in one of her bubblegum pink outfits to match her Barbie car, Pepper barking his head off at us from her designer purse – no doubt another one of my brother's gifts.
"Dove!" she exclaims, giving me air kisses on both cheeks as that insufferable dog barks and barks. "So good to see you, darling."
"What are you doing here, Elise?" Robin asks before I can reply, and his girlfriend gives him an innocent look. "We agreed to meet up tomorrow, not today."
"Well, you weren't answering my texts, honeybear," Elise pouts. God, that fucking nickname. It's so hard not to laugh at my brother when she uses it. "I thought something was wrong."
"I told you, I'm spending the evening with my sister," Robin insists. Why do his words make me feel so guilty? I feel like I'm taking away from Elise's time with him, and guilt threatens to swallow me up whole. "I don't have time to hang out today."
"Why can't we all hang out together?" Elise whines next. "I won't even complain about watching that stupid show again. Please? Let me come in. Please."
She's practically begging at this point, and I can tell my brother's resolve is weakening.
"Why don't you just go back to your place?" I suggest. "I can handle a night on my own, Robin."
"Absolutely not." Sigh. It was worth a try. If only Robin weren't so overprotective. "We'll all stay in tonight."
He steps aside to let Elise in. I groan inwardly. The last thing I want is to spend an evening with the woman, but it looks like I have no choice. The blonde walks inside with a triumphant smile and sets her purse on the floor. Pepper jumps out, stopping to growl at me before raising his leg at a plant I've barely managed to save from dying. Just fucking perfect.
Elise doesn't even scold him, and we all file into the living room. The silence would be awkward, but there isn't any. Elise is desperate to fill every second of the time we spend together with her ramblings. It's almost worse than the dog's cons
tant yapping.
My brother tells her about the date I have the next day, and I cringe inwardly when she shrieks and tells me we must meet up the next day to do some maintenance. I don't have a clue what maintenance means, but by her critical gaze as she examines me up close, I'm guessing it'll take up most of my day. I'm already dreading it, but Robin's always so desperate for me to be close with Elise, I find myself agreeing to meet her in Rodeo Drive the next day.
I think of my mom then. I don't like to think about my parents very often, but I know she'd love that I'm going on a date. As annoying as she can be, I'm actually looking forward to our call this time. At least I'll have some good news to tell her.
Robin insists on staying until midnight's come and gone. I'm grateful Elise is here though, because I know Robin understands I won't want to eat in front of her. While they feast on the Thai takeout he brought, nobody forces me to eat, and I'm grateful for it. I watch Elise picking at her vegetables – she's pescatarian on Tuesdays and vegan for the rest of the week – and wonder where her issues with food came from. I know exactly why mine are present. It all stems from my mother's belief that I'm damaged goods.
When they finally get up to leave, I'm grateful for the peaceful night ahead. Robin shows me all the leftovers, including an untouched Pad Thai they left for me, and I promise him I'll have some, crossing my fingers behind my back. I walk them out and wave them off as they drive away in their separate cars and then I lock the front door.
My tummy is rumbling, but I pay it no mind. It's not worth the trouble to eat. I pile the leftovers and the untouched food into a brown paper bag and head outside again. The street is colder than earlier, but the night is pleasant. I walk down the street to the alleyway where Sam is already waiting.
"Robin come over again today?" he asks with a wide smile.
"You know it." I hand him the paper bag. "It's Thai today. I left the plastic cutlery in there. And I got you some sweet buns when I was in town earlier. Those are in there, too."
"Thanks, Dove." He gives me a bright smile. "Heading back already?"
"I have to," I say, winking at him. "Got a hot date tomorrow."
"A date?" Sam laughs out loud. "Who's the lucky guy?"
"That photographer I met today," I admit. "He was kind of cute, actually."
More like unbearably-fucking-hot, but I'm not about to admit that to Sam. He'd never stop making fun of me.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asks, the hope obvious in his voice, and I have to shrug apologetically.
"I brought you the buns because I'll be away for most of the day," I explain. "But I'll drop by the day after with some food. You need anything else?"
He shakes his head, even though we both know there are a lot of other things he needs.
"You want to come in the day after tomorrow? You could take a hot shower. I can brush your hair." I grin at him. His hair is a rat's nest, but he refuses to let me pay for a barber.
"No thanks, Dove," he replies firmly. He never wants to come into my house, no matter how many times I suggest it. I'm desperate to do more for him, but it was hard enough to get him to accept the food. Maybe with time, I can help him some more. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, yeah?"
"Of course." I blow him a kiss and he laughs, retreating to his makeshift bed on the sidewalk.
I wrap my black cardigan tight around my body as a chill blows right through me. I've done everything on my to-do list now, but the night stretches ahead, promising hours of insomnia.
Maybe if I could finally catch a wink of sleep, things would be different. But as I lock the door behind me, I know it's not an option. Not with the shadow of my past hanging heavy above me with every step I take.
Chapter 4
Nox
After Dove gives her dinner to that homeless guy she's so intent on saving, and returns home, I decide to call it a night, too. As much as I want to watch her sleep, I have to fight the urge to break into her house. I need to bide my time.
Instead of keeping an eye on the little bird, I head back to Motel 97 where I'm renting a shitty room. I don't need much when it comes to sleeping arrangements, and I don't want to spend unnecessary money on a place to sleep. Although now that I've been following Dove for a few months, I'm starting to think I might need a more permanent place in LA, if only to avoid suspicion.
The bored-looking receptionist whose name I keep forgetting is popping bubblegum as I walk into the motel and grunt for her to hand me my keys. She perks up right away. I can tell she likes me. A few years ago, I would've taken advantage and had her in my bed the moment I first got to Motel 97. But not now.
Now, my attention is focused solely on Dove. She's the one I want, not some random redhead with a butterfly tramp stamp. So fucking generic it hurts. I smirk at the girl and swipe the key from her hand when she hands it over.
"Got plans for tonight, handsome?" she asks, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "Maybe you could treat me to dinner, and we could have some fun together..."
"I'm taken," I hiss instead.
"Oh yeah?" She pops her bubblegum again. "That don't matter to me, handsome."
"Well, it does to me." I turn my back on her and head to my room, but she slides around the counter and reappears in front of me. She's a goddamn pest. So fucking annoying.
"How come I ain't never seen this mystery woman, then?”
"She's shy," I grumble.
"Maybe that's cos she's imaginary," she laughs, popping her gum in my face. She glances down the hallway, then lifts up the cropped band tee she's wearing. I bet she can't name a single Nirvana song. "How 'bout these?"
I glance at her perky little tits and am left unimpressed. She doesn't compare to Dove, not even in the slightest. Plus, she's a redhead. Not even my goddamn type.
"Hard pass," I mutter, walking around her and feeling her pissed-off eyes on my back all the way to my room. She must hate me now. Not that I give a shit. As long as she stays out of my way so I can get what I fucking want.
I lock the door of my room when I'm inside, throwing my hoodie on the bed. With a groan, I pull my shirt over my head. A look in the mirror reveals not much has changed – my body is as toned as ever, given my rigorous exercise regime. But the scars are still there. Puckered. Ugly. Obvious.
I kick off my jeans and head into the shower. It's seen better times. There's black mold growing in it and the water runs brown for at least thirty seconds before it clears up. Finally, I step under the hot steam, allowing the water to beat down my back. I wash away the grime of the day, the cigarette smoke, the sweat. I wash myself until there's nothing left but burning skin and the scars that won't go away no matter how hard I scrub. Neither will the memories.
I wrap a towel around my waist and walk back into the shitty bedroom. Right there, on my bed, the redhead from earlier is sitting, legs spread and still incessantly popping that fucking gum. I groan.
"How the fuck did you get in?"
"We have security keys," she smirks. "Don't pretend like you're not glad I'm here."
I don't respond, and she picks herself up from my bed, sauntering up to me and grabbing the knot of my towel. She pulls me against her body and for some reason, I let her. But the rage inside me builds.
"Do you remember my name?" the redhead purrs, and I shake my head. She pouts at this but doesn't let it disturb her for too long. She tugs on the knot. My towel threatens to come undone, exposing my dick which is still throbbing from thinking about Dove in the shower. "It's Hanna."
"Hanna, is that right?" I say and she nods with what I'm sure she thinks is a seductive smile. I grab her wrist then. "Well, Hanna, you should get the fuck out of my room before I make you regret coming in here."
"How are you going to make me regret it?"
With a single move, I twist her arm behind her back, and she shrieks in pain. I know the human body well. One more twist, a few inches to the left, and I'll break her tiny wrist. The thought thrills me.
"I told you," I hi
ss at her as she looks up at me, her eyes terrified. Fucking finally. "I'm taken. Now get the hell out of my room before I break your arm. And then your neck."
I let her go, and she stumbles back, her expression wounded as she picks herself up, dusting off her denim cutoffs and that stupid fucking Nirvana shirt. "You don't want me?"
"No," I grunt. "For the thousandth time, I'm not interested. Now get lost."
She cradles the wrist I twisted in her other arm and leaves without saying another word. Once the door closes behind her, I breathe a sigh of relief. Fucking women. They just can't resist me.
***
The next morning, I follow Dove's Uber to Rodeo Drive. I'm surprised to see her there. Dove's not really the shopping type, and much less a designer kind of girl. But my doubts are quickly quashed when I see the Barbie car pull up.
Elise Howard, of fucking course. This should be interesting.
For the next few hours, I follow them around as they shop for ridiculous fucking outfits. That Elise bitch keeps trying to force my little bird into something pink, but luckily, the girl is smart enough to resist. Through the windows of one of the high-end boutiques, I watch her try on a black number. It's got long sleeves and a cowl neckline but reaches down to her knees. The dress is tight, and it pisses me off how hot Dove looks in it. Elise helps her pick a pair of simple black heels to go with the outfit, and little bird buys her a wallet for helping her.
I don't know what she's getting ready for, but if it involves a man, I'm going to fucking kill him.
After their shopping is done, the girls exchange air kisses and say their goodbyes. Elise leaves in her ridiculous car and little bird orders an Uber. I linger close by as she waits for her ride, holding the shopping bags in her hands. The temptation to approach her is fucking overwhelming. Maybe just a little bit closer... close enough to inhale her scent. I barely remember it. I haven't let myself get close to her for years, and I'm craving the unique perfume of her skin.
Tyrant Stalker: A Dark Forbidden Romance (Tyrant Dynasty Book 2) Page 3