by Tia Wylder
The next day, Ayumi left for work and I was alone with Daiki. I loved the way he looked at me. He seemed so grateful when I cooked him meals and attended to his needs. Ayumi didn’t seem like the kind of person who had compassion like that. Days went by, followed by weeks. We had sex several more times. I played along, but I didn’t like Ayumi, I wanted to be alone with Daiki.
After a month I finally decided that he had to know. I walked over to him as he sat on the couch and watched something on the television.
“Daiki, there’s something I need to tell you,” I said.
“What is it Kamaria?”
“Ayumi is planning to divorce you and take half of your fortune so she can remarry her new lover,” I said.
Daiki turned off the television and turned to face me.
“How do you know this?” he asked.
“She told me. She wanted me to steal your attention and make you fall in love with me so you would come to the decision on your own.”
He stood up and rubbed his face with one of his hands as he stared into the distance.
“Why are you telling me then?”
“I care about you, and I think you care about me too.”
He walked over to me and softly kissed my forehead.
“I do care about you, Kamaria, but if this is true, I need proof,” he said.
“There’s more,” I said.
“More? Out with it.”
I pulled a pregnancy test out of my pocket and handed to him. It was positive. I could see the color drain from his face as he looked at it.
“I saw this one coming,” he said.
“I don’t want to become a single parent, Daiki, I want to be with you, and I want to have a family!” I pleaded.
He kissed me hard and nodded.
“You’ll have all those things. First I need to deal with Ayumi. If I can find evidence that she’s been cheating on me, she’ll have nothing.”
I followed Daiki into her room and watched as he furiously went through her things. I heard the door open and he spun around. I had been dreading this moment, but it was going to happen sooner or later. I just hoped my story wouldn’t leave me with a pregnancy ending and no father for the child.
Daiki charged out of the room.
“I know everything Ayumi! Who is he?”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
I walked out of the room to face what I had done. Ayumi lowered her eyes at me.
“You didn’t,” she said.
“It’s not right! He’s a good person, he deserved to know!”
Ayumi shook her head. “Oh you naive little worm. He’s not a good person, he’s an arms dealer!”
Daiki looked over at Ayumi and she chuckled.
“You seriously thought I didn’t know? I’m not stupid, Daiki.”
“Don’t change the subject, you were trying to frame me so you could take half of everything I have!” Daiki shouted.
Ayumi shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it? I’m guessing you have a little one on the way with your mail order bride there.”
Daiki paused and I saw him clench his fists. I walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Just let her have it,” I said.
Daiki looked over at me with a startled expression.
“You’re taking her side? She doesn’t deserve a cent of my fortune!”
“Neither do you.”
His mouth dropped open.
“Think about how you made that money. You helped people kill each other. That blood is on your hands, Daiki. This is your chance to start a new life, with me. You’ll make your money back, but this time you’ll do it right.”
I saw his eyes light up. I could tell that he had doubts about his work, but Ayumi never helped him face those inner demons. He looked over to her.
“Get out, I’ll send a lawyer with the paperwork.”
“I have things here, you can’t kick me out!” Ayumi shouted.
He turned and looked at her.
“I just did. Send me your new boy toy’s address and I’ll have your things shipped. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Ayumi grabbed her keys and walked to the door.
“Fine, Daiki, have it your way! I hope you two have a happy life!”
He turned away from her and looked at me as she slammed the door. I saw happiness in his eyes, and the same was reflected in mine. He smiled.
“Oh, I’m sure we will.”
RIGHT BEFORE EACH BOOK TITLE:
Touched
By Bella Angel
Chapter One
The ivory-skinned skinned woman quirked a grin as she flipped through the pages of her latest book purchase, sitting on a small stool behind the counter in a small Brooklyn restaurant. Ghosts in the Wall was a small and relatively unknown restaurant in the city, but those who knew of the location could speak nothing but positivity about the place. Especially, the gorgeous waitress who worked most evenings; Kira Fling. Though she was notably single, she seemed to prefer to keep it that way. There was the occasional banter with male customers, but there was a line in the metaphorical sand that she seemed unwilling to cross. Truth be told, Kira was a romantic at heart. As much as she enjoyed the company of her customers in The Wall, she wanted something more exciting. She wanted an adventure of the likes that she read in her favorite stories. She longed for a wealthy prince, a brooding vampire, things of the like that either didn't exist or were just unreachable.
“Kira! Customers at your table! What about that book has you so engrossed?” The Evening manager called out to her, and she flinched visibly, looking up from the worn pages of the book in question. It wasn’t her typical fare, she’d snagged it from an estate sale in one of the nicer parts of the city. It was a simple leather-bound diary, written some ages ago. Non-fiction usually wasn’t her cup of tea, but the lives that the people described within the diary’s pages were nothing short of exhilarating. Their lives were so extravagant that she was truly growing dubious regarding the truth behind the story. All the same, it was rather entertaining to read about the exploits of handsome billionaires.
“Sorry, Joan. You know how I get wrapped up in my stories,” Kira mumbled, carefully folding the corner of her page and sliding the book under the counter. She trusted the staff and her customers well enough to leave her stuff untouched, so saw no need to tuck the book in some secret hiding spot. She grabbed the small notepad that she wrote orders on, approaching the table with a small smile. It was one of her regular groups, a group of three construction workers who always came to the restaurant after a long day of grimey work. They were a bit rough around the edges, but she knew they were also three of the kindest men in the city. “What’ll it be, boys?” She inquired softly, cocking her hip and flipping to a fresh page in her notepad.
“Aw, Miss Fling. Or should I say, Miss Thing!” One of the men teased, leaning across the table and offering her a friendly wink. “You know we get the same thing every time we come in here,” he grinned, and she smiled fondly in response.
"Oh, but I never know if you wild men will mix it up with me," she teased. The men rumbled out their laughter, and she returned the first man's wink before jotting down their orders.
“So three lumberjack specials, then? I sure can see the three of you in flannel, choppin’ down trees in the middle of nowhere,” she smirked. The men howled in laughter, and she flashed her pearly whites before sauntering away. She slapped the order ticket through the window that led to the kitchen, returning to her spot at the counter. She resumed reading her book, drawing her plump lower lip between her teeth as she traced her eyes along the lines of the pages. It was certainly interesting, not to mention rather racy as well. Whoever had written this went into meticulous detail regarding certain… encounters. Though Kira rarely searched for erotica in her readings, she certainly wasn’t complaining. She allowed herself to drift away into a world long time passed.
The rest of her shift at the restaurant passed wi
th little trouble, and the construction workers were the last to leave before closing time. They offered to see her out, but she declined, knowing that it would be busy work cleaning up the restaurant before she could leave. It happened to be her night to close, and that meant she had to tie up any loose ends that happened to present themselves by the time everyone else clocked out. When the night manager slipped out the door, she called out her farewells before flipping the open sign to closed. She leaned heavily against the door, exhaling a weary sigh before straightening and surveying the empty restaurant. It was a mess, but that was nothing new. She strode towards the back of the restaurant, opening the door to the kitchen. She continued inside, approaching the closet that housed the cleaning supplies. She grabbed a bucket and mop, humming softly under her breath as she moved to fill the bucket with water and cleaner. It was somewhat chillier than usual in the kitchen, but she thought very little of it, focusing on her task. As she continued to fill the bucket, her mind flickered to the diary she had been reading. She quirked her lips in a smile, excited to get the book home and curl up in bed with it. Just as that thought crossed her mind, the lights in the kitchen began to flicker. She glanced upward, inwardly cursing the fluorescent lights.
“This is just what I need. I’m not cleaning this damn place in the dark,” she huffed, waiting until the flickering seemed to cease. She thought little more of it, pulling the mop and bucket to the front of the restaurant. As she stepped through the door to the kitchen, she could make out a masculine figure sitting at one of the tables. For a moment, she began to panic. She had forgotten to lock the front door, and anyone could just bust in and rob the place. However, the man at the table made no effort to move from his place. She stepped further into the room, clearing her throat. “H-hello? Sorry, sir, we’re closed,” she managed. The man hesitated for a moment before turning to consider her.
“You can… see me?” He inquired softly. Kira thought to reply snidely, but all at once she became aware that she could see clear through the man. Almost like a…
Ghost. It was a ghost.
A scream tore past her throat, and for a moment, the whole restaurant seemed to spin.
Chapter Two
She felt a hand rest on her arm, and it seemed to be enough to ground her. She stumbled back as she realized it was the ghost man who had touched her, and he considered her with a reproachful look.
"Oh my God," she blurted, and his eyes glinted in amusement.
“I’m afraid I’m not any sort of god. Just a simple lost spirit,” he mused aloud. She narrowed her eyes, and he met her gaze with a smirk. She was slowly adjusting to the fact that she could partially see through him, and it seemed that he had no ill intent. At least, none that he had presented as of then.
“What are you doing here? This is a relatively new building, and I know ain’t nobody died here,” she said coolly, crossing her arms over her chest. How on earth she was managing to keep her cool in the presence of a ghost, a real ghost, was beyond her. He seemed equally bewildered by her nonchalance, and he shrugged his shoulders in response.
“I’m… not sure. I felt drawn here, and I was actually rather surprised that I could leave my property. Typically spirits are bound to some sort of place or object,” he trailed off, and her eyes widened in suspicion.
"You're an Orlando, aren't you?" She said bluntly, and he looked at her with narrowed eyes.
“How is that pertinent--,” he began, watching as she shuffled around to the other side of the counter. She reached out to grab the diary she had purchased earlier that day, waving it at the ghost man with a faint smile.
"I bought this book at an estate sale. The previous owner of the property, Hercules Orlando, died under mysterious circumstances recently," she murmured, and his eyes widened in recognition. He walked, or more accurately, floated towards her, reaching out to brush his fingertips to the cover of the diary. "You're Hercules, aren't you?" She asked bluntly, and he met her gaze with a melancholy smile.
“I was,” he replied softly, drawing away from her and crossing his arms over his chest. For the first time, Kira took a moment to consider his appearance. He certainly didn’t seem like the classic ghost one would see in the movies, in spite of his vague transparency. He could easily be mistaken for a living human if one didn’t take the time to fully consider him and, of course, if one could see him. His skin still looked kissed by the sun, though somewhat paler than her own. His hair was dark, falling to his shoulders in loose waves. Most notable of all was his piercing green eyes, which seemed to almost glow. She mused that he was rather handsome, would have likely had his choice of women in life. She had heard vague mentions of the man when he had been alive, and he hadn’t seemed the brooding type. His death had been altogether unexpected, and rather unexplainable. It appeared he had been murdered in cold blood, but there was no sign of forced entry. There were no fingerprints. There was no murder weapon.
Inhaling shakily, she met his sad stare.
“What killed you, Hercules?” She inquired softly, holding the diary to her chest. Her heart ached for the man, and if this were anything like the stories she so loved to read, he was only stranded on earth due to some unfinished business. He hesitated, looking utterly lost.
"I have no idea," he replied bleakly, and she quirked a curious brow. "It was something… otherworldly. That's as best as I can explain it. A ghost of sorts, I suppose, but…," he trailed off, drawing his hands to his chest. "I never believed in ghosts, myself. Rather ironic, I suppose," he smiled weakly, and Kira hesitated before reaching out to him. She was surprised to feel the sensation of warm flesh against her hand when she touched him. It was as if he were corporeal as if he were a living and breathing man. He seemed equally surprised, reaching out to grasp her hand in his. It seemed an oddly intimate gesture, but it somehow felt right. As if it were meant to be.
“Do you have any idea why you’re bound to this diary?” Kira stammered out, her face growing flush at the closeness of the ghost man. He seemed shaken from his reverie, considering the book clutched tightly in her hand.
"I haven't the foggiest of ideas. I'd never even read the thing, it was some sort of family heirloom," he muttered. She hummed softly under her breath, drawing her hand away from his to flip through the pages of the book. She didn't miss his look of vague disappointment as she drew away, but she didn't want to examine things too critically. Here she was, feeling her heart pounding in a way no man had ever come close to before. She refused to acknowledge that she was attracted to the ghostly figure, that he seemed equally attracted to her. There was no way that anything could come of it. After all, Hercules Orlando was dead. She refused to entertain any infatuation with his ghost.
Shaking off that thought, she continued to flip through the book.
“I feel like there must be some deeper reason that you’re tied to this book. Maybe… maybe there is some sort of answer held within, something explaining what happened to you,” she suggested quietly, and he seemed to consider her words. “If you’re bound to this book, it would be rather unfair to leave you here alone until we’re able to solve this mystery. I suppose there’s little choice but to carry you home with me,” she muttered, averting her eyes from his intense stare.
Though the thought of adventure excited her, the adventure that had been so entirely absent from her life previously, she had no idea what she was getting herself tied up in. She could only hope she didn't end up suffering the same fate of the man before her.
Whatever that fate was.
Chapter Three
He lingered close to her side as she finished cleaning up the restaurant. He made an effort to help, but most objects fell through his grip as if he weren’t even there at all. She could tell he was frustrated by his current situation, but she was confident there was something she could do to help. When she had finished her usual work at the restaurant, she grabbed her keys and the diary, leading the ghost of a man outside. She looked up, glancing in his direction and exhal
ing a weary sigh.
"You know, you're lucky. There aren't many women who would invite a ghost into their house," she said teasingly, and he looked more than vaguely apologetic. "Oh, Herc, I'm teasing. It's not as I'd just leave you here. Truth be told, all of this is actually rather exciting," she assured him, leading him to her clunker of a vehicle. He looked at the vehicle with something akin to disdain and Kira couldn't help rolling her eyes.
“How do you live like this?” He asked, seeming genuinely curious.
“We can’t all be born with a silver spoon,” she retorted, opening the driver’s side door. “And beggars can’t be choosers,” she added with a quirk of her lips.
“I did not mean to offend you, I simply meant…,” he paused, seeming to consider his words. “If I were still of the living, you wouldn’t be living in such meager conditions. You deserve so much more than the night shift sweeping up some small diner,” he said passionately, and Kira reddened at how bold the ghost man was being.
“If you were of the living, you wouldn’t even know I was alive,” she said bluntly, slipping into her car. She set the diary on the center console, and he phased through the car to settle in the passenger seat. She swallowed her instinct to tell him to buckle up, realizing belatedly what a silly notion that was. She did fasten her own seatbelt, however, starting up the ignition and backing out of the parking lot. She turned on her favorite radio station, singing along with one of her favorite songs. She could feel the ghost man’s eyes upon her as she drove, and she considered him from the corner of her eye. She paused in her cheerful singing, parting her lips to ask what had him so fascinated. Before she could get the words out, however, he spoke.
“You have a beautiful singing voice,” he murmured, and she felt herself grow warm once more. She cursed herself for allowing herself to swoon over a dead man, but she supposed this was not the normal situation.