“Six years ago, my brother and I went to a fundraising ball for the homeless. You were there, escorted by your father. You wore an emerald green gown and gold heels with a small princess tiara pressed into your hair that was swept up into an up do. You danced with my brother that night.”
Her face drooped, and her body followed as a little of the vibrant tone of her skin was being drained.
“Arjen wasn’t the only one taken with you that night, Desiree,” I revealed. Curiosity was replacing interest on her face.
“Who else?” she questioned, although I was sure she already knew the answer.
“Me. I bumped into you in the dark hall that led to the bathrooms that night.”
“I remember,” she replied.
My face creased. “How could you remember me from a dark hall six years ago?”
“We bumped into each other, and I dropped my clutch from the collision. You picked it up for me, and at the moment you handed it off, our hands touched, and you stared right into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity. The lighting was dim, and your hair was long, shoulder-length. It hid half of your face in the shadow, but from the small portion I saw, I knew it was you.”
“How did you even know me? You were introduced to my brother, not me.”
Her smile did nothing to keep my frown from deepening as I tipped my head to the side. All this time, I assumed she had no idea who I was.
“Less than a year before that dance, I was attacked, thrown into a trunk, and was likely being driven to my death if it hadn’t been for my cousin, Mecca, saving me. She started teaching me how to be more aware of my surroundings, the right way to handle and shoot a gun, and basic self-defense. When my father and I first stepped into the ball, he pointed you and your brother out. Although I didn’t shake hands with you, I knew who you were even in the dark, Khane.”
It was a revelation I was unaware of. I’d assumed I was invisible to her.
“I didn’t understand the reasoning at the time, but all that night, people kept mentioning your brother. I know now it was because he was taking over from your father. You guys were opposites. He was polished and working the room like a politician. However, I was curiously drawn to the dark mystery of you. Although I mingled and shook hands with all the people my father was introducing me to, my eyes followed you all night. You were neatly dressed in slacks and a shirt, but you were the only one not in a jacket or tie. It was like you had given their dress code the middle finger.”
Her revelation had me rethinking the entire night because I had been watching her, but never suspected or even saw her watching me.
“You turned down every woman who asked you to dance. And you always lingered in the corners behind the biggest crowd and near that big ugly statue of what looked like a school of dead fish. There was a dark mystery about you that made you more interesting than anything else at that function.”
I didn’t shock easily, but Desiree’s reveal had thrown me for a loop. I had convinced myself that someone like her would never even notice me, and I couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Now, I understand why you weren’t afraid of me when I handed you your purse. I expected you would be, especially when I touched your hand on purpose and stared too long. You thanked me with a pleasant smile, and we went our separate ways. The encounter was a short one, but I have been fascinated with you ever since.”
“Fascinated?” she questioned. Her face remained impassive as she awaited my response. This was the first time I’d been unable to guess what she was thinking.
The heavy weight of uncertainty bared down on me as I prepared to reveal a secret that may scare her worse than seeing me torture someone. What if she tried to run away from me? She needed my protection more than she needed my friendship or whatever it was we were forming. I was at a loss at how to protect her and fight my need to be more.
“Khane,” she called, her sweet tone floated into my ears before vibrating over my skin. She had the ability to mesmerize me with only her voice. I concentrated, reminding myself that I couldn’t give in to my greatest temptation. I had to sever this connection that kept looping itself around me because it had become painfully obvious that one of our close encounters was going to lead to us fucking.
“I was fascinated enough to watch you, spy on you a few times a month to satisfy my need to see you. I was fascinated enough that I have gotten off on the mere image of you more times than I can count.” I wasn’t ashamed of my behavior even while standing within arm’s reach of who had sparked it.
Desiree had no real understanding of what she represented. “Desiree, for me, you’re not just any woman, you are the woman.”
My words had caused her to go still, and I could already tell that they were affecting the way she had chosen to see me. Good. She needed to know that I wasn’t the good guy she’d convinced herself that I was. She needed to understand that I was sick, slightly deranged, and possibly mentally unstable.
“This way,” I stated, pointing to my large walk-in closet and not giving her time to fully absorb my sobering words. The first portion of my closet was large, containing my clothes and shoes and a small sitting area. However, the space was big enough that it turned into another section.
I stood leaning against the wall of where she would soon turn ninety degrees into the nook of the closet. Her sluggish steps and tightly pinched brow revealed her reluctance. She came to a screeching halt in front of me, aware that I was about to show her something horrible. Her eyes held the question I wasn’t going to answer. She wanted to know what she was about to witness.
She glided further past me after I tilted my head towards the area she needed to go. Her measured steps were barely audible, but faltered when she eased into the shrine and stood frozen. I wasn’t sure if it was shock or fear or a combination that had her suspended in time, back tensed into a perfect line, head aimed straight ahead.
There were pictures of her, hundreds, maybe even thousands. I had never seen Desiree naked but had captured images when she was down to bra and panties. There were a few of her in various stages of sleep. Some were of her exercising in her apartment’s small gym and others of her out on dates and driving in her car.
I’d spent hours staring at the ones of her crying, wishing I could take her sorrow away. I had chronicled her life better than my own.
Her hands were cupped over her mouth as her breaths heaved, squeezing between the cracks of her fingers. There were pictures of her with her friend, Patrena, and her cousin, Mecca, but I had cut the others out of the pictures.
She was unaware that the sight of her would ease my stress. The mere image of her would make whatever haunting thoughts that plagued me go up in smoke. Desiree had no idea she had been my healing medicine for years, the only therapy I had sought.