"I'm not leaving while she's asleep. I'll keep you posted on my timing."

Vincent's voice echoed from the kitchen, and my heart did a little tap dance. He was still here, which was weird considering the shit that went down a few hours ago. By all rights, I should have kicked him to the curb where I sent his brother, but something kept me interested. Morbid curiosity, perhaps? Nah, it was pheromones.

I still wanted to know why Vincent had a hard time with intimacy. According to the rumor mill, there was nothing wrong with his man parts. Some even labeled his sexual antics as kinky and crude, but no mention of biting. Was I the lucky winner? He said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. That isn't something you expect to hear from a guy after one date, especially someone with Vincent's playboy reputation. Being the incurable skeptic that I was, I remained wary.

Still dressed in last night's clothes, I crawled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and inspect the bite mark. The punctures were barely noticeable, which didn't surprise me. The damage wasn't that bad, and my ability to heal had always been freakishly quick. As I pulled a brush through my hair, Vincent's face greeted me in the mirror's reflection.

"Good morning, Reese. How are you feeling? How is your neck?"

"I'm fine, and my neck is fine, too."

Heath never asked about the wounds he inflicted, and I awarded Vincent bonus points for that. He walked up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist. It felt so natural, and I leaned my head on his chest as I looked up into his face. I could tell he wanted to kiss me. His eyes were sparking like a welder's arc.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said. "I could have really blown it. I could have lost your trust. The horrified look on your face... It will haunt me forever."

He brought his lips to my temple, inciting a shiver as he gently kissed me once, twice, three times. I was taken aback by his tender display, and despite my disappointment that he didn't target my lips, it showed we were making progress. I also didn't see any sign of sharp canines.

"I'll try to keep my horrified looks to a minimum." I grinned, hoping to tease a smile from him, but he seemed preoccupied with sampling my skin, turning me in his arms and pecking his way down the bridge of my nose and across my cheek. A frustrated sigh escaped him as he pulled away before reaching my lips, and I watched the spark fade.

"I have to leave soon, but I want to give you everyone's phone numbers first." He claimed my hand and led me to my cellphone, which had spent the night on the kitchen counter. Although my battery was nearly dead, there was enough life left to plug in the numbers for Amelia, Jonathan, and Rizzo as he rattled them off.

"Who's Rizzo?" I asked.

"He's an expat from France. He came to live with us about five years ago. We consider him family."

"What about Adam and Emile? Are they part of your domus too, or just friends of Colin's?"

Hard lines formed on Vincent's forehead as he pocketed his cell. "Adam is Amelia's brother. He comes from the Lassiter domus. Emile is Rizzo's brother, and he lives with the Lassiters. Emile is still finding his feet here. If either Adam or Emile make contact with you, I'd like to know about it."

I nodded, feeling like I'd done something wrong. It was probably my long-standing paranoia that I saw Vincent's behavior as controlling. I just needed to stay on top of it. "Do you want breakfast? I've got eggs and yogurt."

"I'm fine. I had some mango juice I found in your fridge. I hope that was okay."

"Of course. What's mine is yours."

"I want you to call me if you need me, Reese. And if you can't reach me, call any of the others. Colin and I have a video conference tonight at ten, which should keep me busy for an hour or so, but I can come over here after that...if you want me to. Otherwise, I'll have Jonathan or Rizzo keep an eye on you. From the street, of course."

"So, I'm still under surveillance?"

I didn't know why I thought everything was hunky dory. Hadn't Jonathan taken care of my stalker? Did I really want to know who the stalker is...or was? Last night's bathroom conversation between Vincent and Colin suddenly flashed through my brain. 

They won't attempt a break-in.

"Yes, and the risk is much greater at night. I need you to remain aware of your surroundings if you go out today. If you think you're being followed, don't hesitate to call." Vincent grabbed his duffle bag and Sperrys off the floor, and his shoulders didn't quite straighten when he stood again. He looked tired.

"Did you get any sleep last night, Vincent?"

"I don't require a lot of sleep." He tapped my phone. "Charge your cell. And, remember, I'm only a phone call away."

"I'll be fine, worrywart."

Although I was tempted to give him the best goodbye kiss of his life, I chose not to invade his space. We had both been pushed past our comfort zones recently. Then Vincent appeared to contemplate something as he stood with his hand on the door knob. Scaling the space between us in one, long stride, he leaned into my face and planted a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. My heart did a tap dance until he pulled away.

"See. We can kiss without needing first aid," he said. And a moment later, he was gone.

The emptiness Vincent left felt like the hole of a freshly extracted tooth, painful and raw, and I walked across the room to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him walking to his car. Unfortunately, I couldn't see him or his car from my vantage point. It was ridiculous, really. I stopped getting hung up on guys when I learned it only led to heartbreak. Now here I was, missing a guy I would probably see again tonight. 

You're pathetic, Reese.

I abandoned the window and pretended I had more important things to do than think about Vincent and his luscious lips. Breakfast was one of them, and after a satisfying cup of coffee and a bowl of yogurt, I threw on my jogging gear and headed out the door for my daily walk. I had tried jogging, but it only made my boobs sore. 

I knocked on Mr. Pearlman's door first, calling out my greeting. "I'm going on my walk, Mr. Pearlman. Are you alright in there?"

As I waited for his reply, I did some stretches against the banister, and a full minute went by before I knocked again. This time, I listened more closely, trying to keep my mind off the memory of performing CPR on him in the stairwell. The last time I panicked and opened his door, I caught him leaving the bathroom with only a towel slung over his shoulder. It was an image I had not been able to erase from my brain.

Finally, the knob rattled and the door swung open. Mr. Pearlman looked like he always did; old, hunched, and seriously lacking in the hair department, and the few hairs he did have were pointed in different directions.

"Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

"I wasn't asleep. I was just taking my time getting out of bed." He spoke as he combed his hair with his fingers, and I noticed his eyes were bloodshot. "Couldn't seem to catch the sandman last night. Kept hearing the strangest sounds, like birds clawing at my bedroom wall. Big birds."

"Really? That is strange. I didn't hear anything like that. Maybe you were actually half asleep and you imagined the sounds. I do that a lot."

"Maybe." He scratched his head absently, forcing his hair back into its previously disheveled state. "You still seeing both those fellas? I heard one leave and the other arrive right after him. Cutting it pretty close there."

Geez. How did he always know what was going on at my apartment? His hearing couldn't be that good. "Technically, I'm only seeing Vincent. Colin and I are just friends."

His head bobbed on his skinny neck, which made him look like a Gallapagos turtle, but he stayed silent.

"Well, I need to head outside and get the old heart pumping." I jerked my thumb at the stairwell and he snorted.

"There's nothing old about your heart. Do a few laps in my honor. I'm going to make coffee and fall asleep in front of the TV."

"Don't forget your pills." As I hit the stairs, I heard him grumble something about tossing the infernal pills out the window.

Down on the pavement, I sucked in the crisp air as I made my circuit around the block. Of course, I couldn't keep my mind off Vincent and his big reveal about wanting a long-term relationship. I also couldn't believe I wasn't running for the hills. He didn't have the best track record with women, and I wasn't exactly the poster child for commitment. Truth was, I knew him about as well as a new pair of shoes, and what I did know had me confused and leery.

I made it home without incident, although a wave of chills swept over me when I passed the alley. Hopefully, the memory of that violent battle would eventually fade. With my second cup of coffee in hand, I settled in front of my laptop to get some work done. The first email to greet me came from the magazine publishing Shane's piece for his restaurant. They loved the photos and were keeping my name for future projects. I counted the assignment as a success all the way around; a repeat client, tasty chicken tacos, and an even tastier lay.

The next email was from Debra Brown, event coordinator for the Governor's Mansion. She asked if I was still interested in providing photography for the Halloween party, and I replied with my confirmation, taking the opportunity to mention my assistant in training, aka Sylvie, and requesting approval to bring her along. I attached Sylvie's resume, which I kept on hand for situations like this.

With those two out of the way, I opened an email from someone I didn't know, a Kelly King. She explained that she was trying to grow a fan base for her local band blog, specifically alt rock and metalcore bands, and she needed a good photographer to help her create impressive images. Already intrigued by her righteous taste in music, I clicked on the link to her blog to check it out and cringed at the opening shot. The girl definitely needed help. The photos were obviously taken with her phone, an outdated one at that, the lighting was terrible, and many of the shots were blurry, probably because she had taken them from the mosh pit. Brave woman.

Upon further reading, Kelly suggested we meet up tonight at Dungeon Masters Draught House. The headlining band happened to be one I'd seen and approved of highly. She included her cell number, asking me to call if I was interested and offering to pay my cover. Was I interested? She didn't mention payment arrangements, and based on her blog content and profile picture, she appeared young and inexperienced. This was where I reminded myself that I was young and inexperienced too. At the worst, I would enjoy an evening of heavy bass and screaming guitars. I punched her number into my phone and hit the call button.

"This is Kelly."

"Hi, Kelly. This is Reese Kentwell. You emailed me about photography for your blog."

"Oh, hi. Thanks for calling me. I'm sorry if my email threw you. It wasn't very detailed, I know. I've only been blogging about six months, but it has generated enough interest that I figure I should make it look more professional. Did you want to meet up tonight at Dungeon Masters? We can discuss logistics there."

While I wasn't sure how many logistics we could hash out at a metalcore show, Kelly sounded enthusiastic and had a reasonable command of the language. "Sure, that sounds like fun. What time should I meet you?"

"How about nine-thirty? That'll give us time to hang out before the place gets too crazy. I'll wait for you out front. I'll be the chick with purple hair annoying the bouncer. We go way back."

"It's a date. See you tonight."

As I hung up, I felt that familiar thrill. Live music, especially metal, was like sex; best when it was loud and hard. Music had always been something Sylvie and I shared a passion for, and a wave of melancholy hit me when I remembered how much distance separated us. I sent off a quick text to let her know I was thinking about her.

Hitting a club tonight to hear a local metalcore band. Wish you were here.

Just for good measure, I sent a text to Vincent to let him know my plans. If he tried to call while I was in the club and I didn't answer, he would end up looking all over town for me. It was kind of sweet how protective he was, but also a little worrying. Heath took control freak to the next level. Setting some ground rules was probably in order.

Meeting a potential client at Dungeon Masters tonight at 9:30. I'll call you afterwards.

I set my phone down to hunt for lunch, and before I had a chance to open the fridge, my phone rang. It was Vincent.

"You really are a worrywart," I said as a greeting.

"Reese..." He left my name hanging in the ether, and the concerned inflection in his tone proved my nickname for him was right on the money.

"I need to work, Vincent. I know you have this paranoia about me going out at night, but I'll be taking a cab there and back. I do it all the time and nobody has tried to jump..."

"Rizzo will escort you there and back. I'll have him meet you in front of your building at eight fifty."

I blew out a frustrated sigh. This behavior was hitting too close to home. "Will it always be like this with you? We haven't even had our second date and you're acting like an overprotective parent."

"If you knew why I was doing it, you would insist on an escort."

"So, when are you going to fill me in?"

"I don't know yet. When you're ready. Maybe after our second date."

"And when, pray tell, is that? I don't remember you asking me on a second date."

"Tomorrow night. Do you like the theater?"

"Sure."

"I support a small acting troupe. They're doing a modern version of Streetcar. The theater is not far from my home. We can have dinner there afterwards."

"Dinner at your place, as in the place you share with your family? I don't think I'm ready to meet them." I paced my tiny kitchen as I pictured eating with the panel of Shark Tank.

"We all live in the same building, but we each have our own apartment. It will be just you and me, unless you decide otherwise."

Dinner alone with Vincent Valentino in his apartment? That had potential. How did he manage to keep me interested when so many signs warned me to heed the skull and crossbones? The man was like a drug, addicting and toxic at the same time. 

Aw, fuck it.

"Okay."

"Do you own a black dress? It would be nice if we complimented each other. If not, I can have Amelia take you shopping."

Yep, totally controlling. "I own several."

"Good. I'll leave it up to you to decide which would be appropriate for a night at the theater. As far as tonight goes, I'll have Rizzo inform me when you two leave the club and I'll meet you at your apartment."

I didn't offer an immediate reply, choosing instead to stare at the bouquet slowly wilting on my kitchen counter. I felt a tad overwhelmed by the logistics he was throwing at me, and when I let the silence drag on, he questioned me. 

"Reese, what's wrong?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm just trying to process this relationship. And maybe I'm a little worried it's leading me down a dark path that I've already been on and don't care to revisit."

"Why do you think I'm leading you down a dark path?"

"Do you want the truth, or should I sugar coat it?"

Now, it was Vincent's turn to let the silence drag, and I realized I desperately wanted him to choose the sugar-coated option. Despite my previous opinion that he was a dispassionate hotshot with a type A personality, he had recently turned that theory on its head. Before I had a chance to rescind my statement, he spoke.

"Can I make my choice tonight when I see you? I'd rather be face to face when you answer."

"Sure. I'll see you tonight."

"Okay. Until then, be safe."

And just like that he was gone, and I was missing him all over again. I had also probably ruined the rest of his afternoon. Ever since we met, I had been judging Vincent six ways from Sunday, but I was starting to think there was a nice guy buried under that suit and tie, which wasn't such a good thing. I could end up leaving him on the trail of tears where I'd left all my former lovers. It was time I decided how much this reformed playboy had to gain by pursuing a relationship with an incurable skeptic.
 

PLAYLIST SONG: Blue Diamond Eyes by Carly Van Skaik