Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (7 page)

“No,” I blurt out.

“I knew you’d say that. Good night, Ariana. It was ... eventful,” he whispers, bending toward me, and his sweet breath brushes over my face.

“I’m sorry we missed the opera.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll go another night. Please, promise me one thing,” he whispers against my ear, making me shiver.

“W-what?” I stutter.

“You wear the sexy dress you wore earlier this evening with the pair of four-inch red heels that caught my eye when I was in your closet,” he pleads, nuzzling his face in the nape of my neck, making every cell in my body dance with glee.

I nod, and rush out, “good night, Michael.” He pulls away and stands there with a pleased look on his face. He leans down and places a kiss on my nose and walks out.

Chapter 6

The Flowers He Planted

I wake up to the soft ray of sunlight filtering through the sheer drapes. I squeeze my eyes shut and release a frustrated breath as I begin to recall yesterday’s drama, sending chills up and down my spine.

I rise from the pillows and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I’m startled by a voice and jerk up to find a red headed woman in a ponytail standing at the doorway, wearing a white shirt and dark blue jeans. She appears to be in her fifties.

“Good morning, Miss DiMarco,” she greets me with a unique accent.

“Good morning,” I reply back with wary look. She must be the R.N. Michael hired.

“My name is Tina O’Conner, but you can call me Tina. I’m the nurse Mr. Grayson hired to look after you for two evenings. Did you sleep well?”

I smile mesmerized by her sweet Irish accent. “Yes, like a baby, thank you. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet last night. I fell right to sleep from pure exhaustion. Were you able to find everything you needed?” I ask sounding groggy.

“No need to apologize, my dear. Mr. Grayson was accommodating. I’m glad to hear you slept well. I was worried you wouldn’t fall back to sleep after I woke you up several times during the night to make sure you were okay.”

“I hadn’t noticed. I must have been in a coma,” I say with a smile. “What time did Mr. Grayson leave?”

She pauses for a moment. “I think he left about eleven. He was working on his laptop and on the phone. Would you like me to call him for you?”

Just the mention of Michael’s name has my heart over the moon and doing somersaults. “No. Thank you,” I blurt out.

“How about some breakfast?”

I nod. “Yes, please.” I slide off the bed and sway as I plant my feet on the cool wood floor. Tina rushes over, taking hold of my elbow and shoulder.

“Are you steady now, my dear? I think you stood up too fast.”

I take a few steps, regaining my balance. “Yes, I’m fine now, thank you.”

“The security guard downstairs buzzed earlier,” Tina says. “A Melinda Candles wanted to come up. She said she was your cleaning lady. I told her you were still sleeping and to come back later. I hope that was okay with you.”

“Of course, it slipped my mind. I forgot all about her, thank you, Tina.”

“Call me if you need me,” Tina calls out as she leaves the room.

I nod and walk toward my enormous bathroom, which is the size of one of the guestrooms. I’m blessed and thank my grandfather every day for the generous gift he left me.

I brush my teeth and stare at the lump sitting above the temple. I wince, and with a gentle touch I press over it. Damn, this hurts like hell.

I take a long hot shower. I’m extra careful when I wash my hair, avoiding the bump, now black and blue. At least my long bangs can cover most of the bruised area.

I dress in a pair of jeans and black tank top along with a lightweight baby-blue sweater. I slip into my Ralph Lauren loafers.

I’m rejuvenated and refreshed with a clearer mind. Amazing what a good night’s sleep and a shower can do for you. I stare at myself in the mirror, brushing the long, thick black hair I inherited from my grandfather, along with his piercing blue eyes. I have my mother’s height and stand at five foot seven, just six inches below Michael. My father was the same height as Michael.

I brush over the swelled bump by accident, and the cold realization slaps me hard across the face. There is a psychopathic stalker out there taunting me, having immoral fantasies about me and sending me as he so calls them, love letters, but the most disturbing part is that he knew about my lunch with Michael and where I live. He must have been following me. Damn it.

As I stare at myself in the mirror Michael’s face flashes before me. I won’t confess this to him, but I’m relieved he was with me and grateful to Trent and Josh, who are willing to go out of their way to help me.

The wonderful aroma of bacon and eggs catches my attention. I pop my head into the kitchen, and Tina is pouring a cup of coffee. “Smells wonderful,” I say.

“Why, thank you, Miss DiMarco. I hope they taste as good, although my husband never complains.”

I laugh. “Most men won’t ever complain. Put a plate of food in front of them, and they’ll eat with glee.” I giggle. “And, please, call me Ariana.”

“Thank you, Ariana, would you like your meal outside or in here?” she asks, holding the breakfast dish.

“The counter would be perfect. It’s too cold at this hour for the terrace,” I answer, gazing out through the glass doors.

She sets the plate down, and I begin to devour the mouthwatering feast before me, savoring every morsel. I had no idea how hungry I was.

“Has Mr. Grayson called?” I ask, not wanting to sound anxious.

“Yes, he phoned at six and seven this morning. He said he’ll be calling back around nine.”

I glance at the clock on the wall, reading eight thirty, and I smile waiting with anticipation. To soothe my anxiety, I gaze at the radiant colors on the foliage nestled on the trees, a reminder of autumn.

That reminds me . . . the charity ball is approaching. The theme is a masquerade on Halloween night. I’ve been preparing this event for eight months. This is going to be such a special evening for the ladies. I can’t wait to capture their excitement and glowing faces.

I’ve decided to dress up as Cleopatra, the Queen of the Nile. Blake and Francis will be joining me. I could ask Michael to come along and dress as Mark Antony, but him being at the event may spark up a thousand questions, which I’m not comfortable answering now, or maybe never.

I squirm in my chair like a schoolgirl, waiting for Michael’s call. I’m spinning with a multitude of emotions—joy, bliss, ecstasy, anxiety, terror, and panic all rolled into one ball. I don’t know what to do with these feelings. He has me all twisted up in knots.

I dated a few handsome, successful men after Danny, nothing serious. Nevertheless, not one has ever made me feel so alive and roaring with want. I won’t lie to myself. I find him attractive, and we share a powerful chemistry between us, but it scares the hell out of me. After so many years of formidable darkness in my soul, Michael gallops into my life and triggers the light that once glowed with vibrant colors inside me.

I start when the phone rings. God, he couldn’t wait another fifteen minutes. Tina hands me the cordless, and I push the talk button to answer.

“Hello, Mr. Grayson,” I answer, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well . . . well . . . well . . . sorry to disappoint you, baby doll.”

I gasp and freeze, feeling the blood drain away from my face making me light-headed and numb. I glance toward Tina, unable to speak. My heart is beating painfully against my ribs.

“I love you sweetie, please don’t be scared. I’ll never hurt you. You belong to me. We are going to marry one day. Hello?”

“W-who is this?” I stutter out, my heart enlarged in my throat. The slime sounds like he comes from a toxic waste dump.

“You’ll know soon enough, baby doll,” he answers with a terrifying laugh.

“What do you want?” Silence. “Hello . . . hello,” I call out, but only the piercing sound of a dial tone vibrates from the phone. I place the receiver on the table with trembling hands and move away to the other side of the counter and sit. I place my hands over my chest to ease my racing heart.

“Ariana? Are you okay, my dear? You look as you’ve heard from a ghost.” Tina asks with her sweet, soothing Irish accent.

How long is this lunatic going to continue to torture me, and how did he get my number? What does he want from me or what is he looking for? The spotlight? Is he hoping for his fifteen minutes of fame? The sick bastard. I can’t even get the police involved because if I do . . .
I’ll be buried with the flowers he planted
. Oh God, the fear I had with Danny doesn’t even come close to the horror that’s coursing through me right now.

The phone rings again, and I jump out of my skin. I’m not answering. It could be him again, wanting to terrorize me some more. I get up from the stool and pace around like a nervous animal, my heart still hammering hard against my chest. He’s tearing me apart piece by piece. I’m a nervous wreck, and it’s only the beginning. I start when I hear Tina’s voice.

“Should I answer that for you, my dear?” Tina asks with concern.

I nod and mouth, “Yes.”

I blink away the tears, taking in deep breaths, releasing the tension to pacify my nerves and the uncontrollable shakiness within me.

“Hello . . . good morning, Mr. Grayson.” A smile appears over Tina’s face.

Relief floods through me when I hear Michael’s name from Tina’s lips.

“Not well, I’m afraid . . . . She had a rather disturbing phone call . . . . She’s shaken up and ashen, the poor dear . . . . Just a few minutes ago . . . . Yes, sir. One moment.” Tina places her hand over the receiver. “Mr. Grayson is on the line, my dear. Are you all right to take his call?” She asks with a warm, nurturing expression over her beautiful Irish features.

I nod. “Thank you,” I say, my voice small.

I take a long breath before I answer. “Michael.” My voice cracks.

“Ariana, what’s wrong? Mrs. O’Conner mentioned you received a disturbing phone call.”

“It was him, Michael,” I choke out. “The stalker or whatever you want to call him. I . . . I . . . don’t know how he got this number,” I rush out, and I can’t stop the overwhelming tremors and my teeth from chattering.

“Ariana, I’m on my way over, give me your cell number and disconnect the phone.”

“Michael, you have meetings. You shouldn’t be dropping everything just because this crazed man calls me,” I rush out. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ariana don’t be silly. I hire plenty of capable employees to oversee productions and meetings to keep me abreast. If they can’t do their jobs correctly, they’ll be fired. Now, your number, please,” he demands. His English accent sounds stronger when he’s upset.

I give him my number, and he hangs up.

“Ariana, would you like a cup of tea, dear?” Tina asks. Her voice alone could put a baby to sleep.

“Yes, please. Thank you,” I say, and my mind wonders back to the alarming phone call, hearing his words repeatedly in my head
.

I flinch when Tina approaches me. “Here’s your tea dear.”

“Thank you.” I rub my face trying to avoid the tender bump. I decide to sit outside on the patio and turn my stereo on to decompress, lick my wounds like an injured animal.

I look around me and wonder if my grandfather is sitting next to me, telling me everything is going to be okay. My eyes begin to tear. I miss him so much. This terrace was his favorite place to relax. It always gave him a sense of peace and tranquility. I feel the same way.

I smile at the beautiful, autumn flowers as they entertain me while dancing with the breeze. The leaves on my cherry blossoms that were once green are now painted in multiple colors, and soon to fall, leaving the dainty branches bare for the winter.

This is my serenity, a vacation away from work, and now that may change, all because of my psychotic fan. I shudder thinking about this deranged man.

I take a few sips of the hot, soothing tea and pull out my iPhone to skim through the calendar. An ominous thought comes to mind. I stiffen, thinking about Michael’s comment. Could Michael be right and the psycho is watching my every move? An unsettling sensation courses through me.

Oh, no! What if he has a copy of my calendar or contacts or has tapped my phone. Oh, no, no, no, no! I can’t think about this anymore. Maybe that’s how he knew about my lunch with Michael. Damn him. I take another sip of my hot tea, holding it with two with shaky hands.

“Ariana.”

“Jesus.”
I jump out of my chair almost dumping the tea Tina was kind enough to make me when Michael calls out my name. I turn, and he’s standing at the terrace entrance. His attire is a casual pair of black jeans, a pale yellow polo shirt that accents his incredible male perfection, and a leather jacket, giving him a naughty-boy look.

“God, Michael, can’t you give a girl some warning before you sneak up on her?” I cry out. “You go to your meetings dressed like a bad boy?” I blurt out. God, he’s breathtaking. My mouth starts to water, and my heart is skipping beats. Ahhh! This is crazy. I just received a disturbing phone call from the psychopath, and here I am fantasying about Michael. Pull it together, Ariana.

He chuckles. “I’m sorry, Ariana. My intentions were not to startle you.” He gives me a devilish smile. Smart-ass. “Most of the meetings today are conference calls. I just happened to be in the car when I called you. How are you doing this morning? Physically I mean.” He pulls the chair out and sits beside me.

“I’m doing well, better than I expected,” I reply, except for the knots in my stomach.

“I placed a call to Trent. He’s on his way over,” Michael mentions.

“Why?” I ask.

“I want him to set up your phone so he can trace where this demented fuck is calling you from.” He holds up his hands. “Please, excuse my language for all future slipups. I’ll guarantee you there will be more. On another note, Trent had the empty box of truffles and letter scanned for fingerprints. Unfortunately, nothing came up.” Michael brushes his fingers through his gorgeous black hair with annoyance.