I GROANED INTO my hands that were leaning on the battered steering wheel of my dad's hand-me-down car. The piece of junk would get me killed before I could even afford to get it repaired. My mother liked to tell me how it wasn't the car's fault but the driver. I knew I clearly was not a Formula 1 legend in my past life, but I certainly wasn't going to take criticism from a woman who had failed her driving test five times before giving up on driving altogether.
I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat and shoved my phone into it, being careful not to damage the new book I'd just bought and removed myself from the piece of junk, wincing at the unhealthy sound it made as I shut the door.
I bent down to inspect the front tyre that was now deflated and made a mental note to call myself a taxi later.
I rose from my bent position and looked over at the beautiful mansion. Stone walls towered over me from where I stood. Never would I consider myself prone to the addiction or admiration of material beauty, but I'd be absolutely blind to not value the striking exterior.
My feet carried me across the gravel-filled yard to the front door, tiny stones crunching under the pressure of my black converse.
I pressed at the doorbell and waited patiently as it opened to reveal a short man with grey and thinning hair. He wore something that could only pass as extreme boredom on his face. The man assessed me slowly and finally parted his pale lips to speak in a toneless voice. "Mr Vitale doesn't accept any sort of interviewing at this time and foreseeable future," he paused and looked thoughtfully at me. "Or any forms of prostitution."
My eyes widened at the crude assumption that he'd made of me from his short time appraising me. His analysis and evaluation skills might have impressed me if I was a reporter or a prostitute, but I was neither.
"Sorry to disappoint you," I smiled warmly despite his face that was currently scowling at me. "But I'm here for the book club"
"Name?" he grunted, presumably mad that I was keeping him from his nightly ritual of sacrificing newborns to a malevolent deity or something of that nature.
"Zahra Calimeris."
The man swiftly pulled a piece of paper from the inside of his blazer and scanned it lazily.
"Ah, there you are, indeed." The creases of his scowl flexed into a tight smile and he made a gesture to tell me to come inside. "Follow me."
I closed the heavy door behind me and followed after the short man who walked surprisingly quickly for a man of his build. Or maybe I just walked slowly, considering the only frequent exercise I participated in was the twenty-minute walk from my apartment to my college campus.
The intricate interior was just as elegant as the exterior. Unfortunately, I didn't have a chance to admire it for long as we came to a stop in front of a set of mahogany double doors.
The short man cleared his throat before he opened the doors that led to a room the size of my whole apartment complex. A large table sat in the middle of the room where a collection of older men and a few women who all looked at least a decade my senior sipped on glasses of champagne and whiskey.
Without further instruction from the man, I walked over to the last empty seat sandwiched between a man busy in conversation with the well-dressed man next to him and a blonde woman who turned and shot a smile at me when I sat down. I felt underdressed looking at her navy blazer and skirt co-ord.
It seemed as though the club had already started, although looking around the table, it looked more like some elite social event than the humble club I had in mind.
A look of recognition dawned on the blonde woman's face. "You're Zahra?"
I nodded, wondering if I'd seen her before and forgotten her face. I promptly started to conjure up something to say in case I had to feign recognition of the woman.
"I'm Gianna." Her voice was gentle in a way that evoked instant safety to those that listened. She reminded me a lot of my mama. "Sebastian Miller told me about you. Sweet little thing, he said. Asked me to look out for you."
My heart warmed at the gesture of Professor Miller worrying about me.
"Nice to meet you," I gave her a warm smile and relaxed in my chair, satisfied that I would be in good company. "What do we do here?"
"Drink and wait for the guest of honour." She raised a glass of champagne to her red lips and took a small sip. "But it wouldn't surprise me greatly if the man didn't show up."
"He wouldn't come to his own book club?" I asked, confused.
"No one has set eyes on the man in almost a decade." I could see the humour that made her emerald eyes sparkle. "No one here is actually interested in talking about books, just the hope of catching a glimpse of the social recluse."
"A decade?" I wasn't surprised I hadn't heard of the man before Professor Miller had given me the invitation.
"Yes, I believe the last physical sighting of the man was by some journalist. Said she couldn't get the sight of his face to leave her dreams for weeks."
I could hold the weight of the earth with the strength it took me to kill my curiosity and not ask any more questions regarding the mysterious man. An hour passed of Gianna asking me about college life and reminiscing of her life when she was my age.
"And then this guy comes in like he owns the place. Dark hair that looked like he'd just rolled out of bed with a woman or two, dark eyes and a mouth that could bark and definitely bite if you know what I mean..."
She was finishing up a story of her brief time living in a small town where she worked as a phone operator for the local church before it was taken over by new management when a woman entered the room and waited for the various conversations that filled the room to stop.
"I apologise, ladies and gentlemen, that Mr Vitale could not make it today. I hope to see you next week."
Everyone started to depart the room as if the news was routine. Gianna wished me a friendly goodbye before leaving whilst I fished my phone out of my bag.
Fuck. I narrowed my eyes at the black screen.
"Excuse me," I asked the woman who had apologised for Mr Vitale's absence."Is there any chance I could borrow a phone to call a taxi?"
"You don't have a car?" She questioned with a raised brow.
"I do," I fidgeted with my bracelet. "The tyre's flat."
"I'll get Marco to fix it for you."
She made a come here signal with her hands and directed me to another set of mahogany doors.
"Wait in here for a couple of minutes. Mr Vitale would have my head if he found I'd let a stranger roam his house."
"Thank you," I said and entered through the door into a dark room, hearing the click of heels on the marble floor slowly fade behind me.
The bookshelves were unsurprisingly the first thing I was drawn to in the ill-lit room. I gathered I was in a library due to the amount of them.
I scanned the plethora of shelves, lost in myself as I picked up a book from the one closest to me. I laughed at the irony that I'd picked up Romero Vitale's book.
The sound of moving fabric hit my ears and broke my train of thought.
An ominous chill ran up the skin of my spine at the shift in the atmosphere.
"Are you here to stalk me?" A low voice spoke from behind me.
Guarded, I turned to the sound armed with the book that I was apparently going to use as a machete.
"Or kill me." The tall male figure was cloaked by the shadow of the library, but I could detect the hint of sarcasm laced within his deep voice.
The figure stepped from the shelter of the darkened contours that the library provided and into the soft light that the combined couple of lamps offered.
My eyes skirted over the corded tendons running through his bronzed forearms, visible due to the white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, to his tan throat that was decorated with light stubble and finally, up to his face.
Our eyes met, his dark eyes assaulting me with an intensity that had nerves thrumming through my body.
I didn't know how to respond, but I knew I wanted to memorise every detail of this man.
He looked at my hands that were still extended slightly, holding the book like it was a lethal weapon and would actually cause any damage to the brutish looking man.
"So you are here to stalk me, miss...?" he trailed off with a small curve in his lips that reeked of something I should be cautious of.
"Zahra," I answered, narrowing my eyes slightly, conflicted with the inner turmoil happening inside my body.
He had moved over to lean the left side of his body against the edge of the desk in front of me, causing the fabric of his black dress pants to strain against his parted thighs. He pulled a cigarette from somewhere on the desk and raised it to his mouth, letting it hang loosely between his full lips.
In any other case, I would have moved to leave the room, but his burning gaze had me pinned to my spot. He was closer now. So close that I could make out the dark brown abyss of his eyes. They were so dark that when his chin tilted down, his inky hair mirrored the movement and cast a shadow over them, tinting them black.
"Are you going to tell me why you're in my house, stalker?"
My house? This man is Romero Vitale?
Well, Gianna was certainly right about his physical appearance.
I disregarded his nickname for me. "I was invited to attend your book club."
"Book club?" He repeated my words with a low chuckle and mirth dancing in his eyes. "I see my assistant has set her sights on younger victims."
"Did she send you here to seduce me?" He raised a lighter to his cigarette, casting an orange glow over his already tanned face. "Because I'm not going to lie to you stalker, but I'm not feeling very seduced."
My face warmed at his lewd talk.
"Considering I was invited to a book club, I can only assume she sent me here to talk about books."
The cigarette was out of his mouth and rested between two of his slender fingers.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "A stalker with master stealth and the wit of a fruit fly. How intriguing."
Did he just compare me to a fruit fly?
The connection of our joined eyes was so strong that I almost didn't notice when a knock echoed through the library.
"Miss Calimeris?" A familiar grumpy voice called out."Your car is ready for you."
Romero's eyes didn't leave my face as his jaw tensed and he took a step back. He cocked his head to the side and he placed the white stick back in his mouth.
"Looks likes that's your cue to get the fuck out, Miss Calimeris."
He stepped back and l didn't waste a second before I left him alone in his library. The interaction left my mind in disarray - a combination of flustered and confused.
Its 4am but I was too excited to post Romero's introduction lol
This is the longest chapter I've ever written hope you liked it :)