Page 30 of Stalk

He laughs again. “You and I received the same orders, then.”

“Did they… did your boss or whoever tell you that you should have, uh, gottenridof me?” I don’t want to say any word thatcould insinuate murder, and sadly that’s the best phrase I could come up with.

I spare a glance at him. His eyes grow serious. “Not in those words. She told me I was capable of taking care of myself, but she was not upset. She didn’t ask me to make that happen, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Shaking my head, I take another gulp of wine before responding. “I mean I realize I should definitely be cautious around you, but that’s not my immediate concern.”

He studies me for a moment, and his eyes on my body make me want to squirm. “Then whatisyour immediate concern?”

I don’t know how to articulate my thoughts, because at this point, I’m concerned about pretty much everything. How weird Catherine was. How she berated me for not killing Mattia, as if I would have known what to do in that bizarre situation. Plus, even though Mattia did meet me here to talk, I know I shouldn’t trust him. He’s nicer tonight, but I don’t buy that, either. It actually puts me more on edge.

“My boss acted very strange when I told her,” I admit

Mattia grips the stem of his glass between his long fingers and swirls the liquid a couple times. “How so?”

I bite my bottom lip nervously. “Like… at first, she almost acted like she was shocked to see me.” It sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth.

“I don’t understand. Maybe she was surprised to see you because you were not supposed to report back in person that night?”

“Maybe…” I trail off. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“My boss thought it was very odd, too,” Mattia says in almost a whisper, making it hard to hear amongst the crowded bar surrounding us. For a moment there, I almost forgot we weren’t alone.

“Did your boss—did they tell you to take a break from your assignments until they figure out what happened?” I ask cautiously, still unsure of how much I should tell him.

I glance at Mattia only to find that he’s all but staring at me with a severe look on his face, making his irises appear darker than normal. For a second, I almost think he’s upset with me. Then he says, “No. That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs, but the intense look he has doesn’t falter. “We always continue with our work in my company. Always. Unless it is truly life or death.” He swallows roughly, and I feel like he wants to tell me more than he is. “If we do not get the job done, the client will become agitated. Restless. Or worse, they may get so upset they hire outside of our company to takeusout.”

My eyes grow wide. “But don’t you have other… workers in your company who could be reassigned to your work?”

“Only if I was in the hospital. Or dead. We are always to complete the assignment given to us.”

Jesus Christ.Whoever he works for doesn’t play around. Then again, I know Catherine Burdick, and she’s not one to take chances like that, either.

“So, you understand my worry, then,” I mutter.

An uncomfortable silence builds between us. We both avoid each other’s eyes and sip on our wine. Honestly, I don’t know what to say. Before meeting with him, I’d hoped that talking with Mattia would ease my concerns. That perhaps he was given the same instructions.Now?Now, I’m more worried than ever, and the half a glass of wine I’ve consumed merges with my anxiety, flipping my insides over and over again.

“You have more on your mind than you are letting on.”

I still at his words. The vibrations of anxiety turning into ice, freezing me with fear and—shock. Most people don’t read me well enough to understand that I keep the majority of mythoughts on the inside, hidden away under lock and key for my mind only. Yet, this is only the second time I’ve been around him.

I don’t want to admit that he’s right. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” he says with a sneer. His teeth flash as he says the word slowly, the two syllables taunting me and making me want to run far, far away. There’s the bully I met the other night. My body tenses. I want to lash out and deny his claim. I want to angrily hop to my feet and storm out of this bar and never look back.

But he’s right. This stranger is right, and Ihatehim for that. When you’re not used to being seen—when you’re used to keeping everything inside—how do you open up when someone finally sees you?

“I can’t trust you,” I say under my breath, defensively.

“Then why did you ask to meet up, Ren?” he asks without missing a beat.

I hate the way he says my name. I hate how the one syllable sounds seductive and warm and dangerous on his tongue. I hate that I actually like it quite a lot.

“What if she meant for this to happen?” I ask much louder than I should. “What if—what if she was so weird to me and so shocked to see me because shewantedme taken out, Mattia?”

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