It meant nothing.
And was he related to Dominic, or maybe…
God, was he his boyfriend?
“I would have liked to talk to him.” My voice shook slightly, but it was hard to keep myself calm when he was acting this way. I was already terrified out of my mind, and he wasn't helping the situation much.
He cursed then grabbed my hand. It felt like electricity ran through us as he pulled me inside the room and closed the front door. Then he pointed at the couch in the middle of the living room, and I understood I had to sit there. As I sat, I looked around and noticed the room was very stylish, in a bachelor kind of way. Everything was in shades of brown. He didn't have much inside the apartment: sofas and chairs, a table, a bar, and then a large window that probably looked over an amazing view of New York City. Although it wasn't a penthouse, it was still high. Views from this neighborhood usually never disappointed.
“I’m going to wake him up, and he’ll be here in a minute.” I just nodded, and he went upstairs, leaving me alone and nervous.
My attention shifted to a picture on the piano that was placed near the middle of the room. The two boys, who couldn't have been more than six years old, hugged each other, wearing pirate costumes and flashing smiles with missing teeth. So adorable it made me smile. I had no idea boys could be so pretty, let alone at this age. I picked the picture up, ran my finger around the frame, and then flipped it around, shocked to see the date and the words written on the back.
My sweet little boys.
Mama will always love you.
Dominic and Damian
October, 1991
Those words brought tears to my eyes, and my heart hurt from the pain evident in those lines. They spoke of such longing, as though she was never going to see them again, as though it was a last token of her affection.
Maybe she died of cancer. I lost my nana to it and knew how devastating it could be.
No one would write such words if they didn't truly love their child. A part of me was grateful those boys had such a loving mother.
“It was our birthday. We turned six and wanted to be damned pirates. Well, Damian did; I wanted to be Peter Pan. Thank God he made sure I wasn’t.” The firm yet gentle voice broke the spell the picture had on me, and I spun around to face him.
Oh, my God.
My stranger from the club?
He had on a t-shirt and sweatpants, and quite honestly, it was hard to tell them apart. The only difference was his huge glasses and the bun behind his head. They probably got it a lot. He watched me closely for a moment and then laughed.
“Don’t worry. It’s me.” Yeah, it was him. The only difference was that he was nice and kind, and his brother was anything but.
“So it’s you?” He frowned in confusion and came closer to me. I placed the card in his hand. “Mary gave this to me.” His eyes were looking downward, so it was hard for me to know what he was thinking. When he raised them back to me, his gaze was unreadable.
“What’s wrong, Sapphire?”
I gulped and tried to hold back the escaping tears that were sliding down my cheeks. He removed the frame from my hands and put it back on the piano. Then his hand covered mine.
“I received an e-mail today.”
“Okay,” he said with a confused tone. I understood he probably thought it was stupid of me to react that way because of some silly e-mail.
“It said that one word. Sociopath,” I whispered.
His demeanor changed at once and he hugged me close. “Sociopath?” Although it was posed as a question, I knew he wasn't really asking one.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but I had no idea who to ask for help. I don't trust the police.” I decided not to elaborate on why.
“You decided to use the card?”
“I have only you.” How surreal this situation was, considering we had met last night before the e-mail. My body trembled as he ran his hand soothingly over my back.
“Shh, sweetheart. Do you know why he would want to target you?”
“No. I’ve never done anything wrong.” It was a lie, but I doubted Sociopath’s reason was my father and his side business. “Why did Mary give me your number? What do you do?”
His face was devoid of any expression. “Try to stop injustice. I worked with Mary on one of the cases. I’m a lawyer, Sapphire.” Relief washed over me; he wasn't some kind of dangerous criminal. “There must be a reason,” he said stubbornly.
“Somehow, I don’t find that less terrifying.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he muttered. “Let’s sit on the couch. You’re cold. I’ll make you some tea and grab you a blanket.” Although I did what he asked, my brows furrowed.
“How do you know that?”