Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) (6 page)

“What is it?” she asks.

“What’s what?”

“You’ve got a look that says you’ve got something on your mind.”

Am I that easy to read? “Nothing. Just in a weird daze. I think I’m still feeling last night.” She gives me skeptical look, but ultimately decides not to push. She knows I’m not one to talk about things. Even the smallest of talks I can’t do anymore. It hurts too much.

I get up and head towards the living room to sit and wait for her. Two minutes later she’s next to me and ready to watch the movie.

THREE

M
ONDAY MORNING STARTS OFF LIKE ANY
usual Monday. The alarm goes off at six A.M, and I curse furiously at it while swinging my arm at the offensive sound trying to silence the beast. I don’t open the office up until eight in the mornings and nine on Fridays. I get up at six every morning, fully aware that I have a whole two hours before I have to walk down the steps, walk a few feet to the right and start my work for the day. It gives me a chance to enjoy this city’s somewhat quiet mode and do some thinking of my own. Lately I have been getting anxious about what my life is going to be in the next few months.

I hear a slight knock with a hand slowly creeping through with fingers waving through my cracked open door; obviously Gemma trying to be cute.

“Yeah, I’m up. Come on in.” She opens the door fully now, and I can see she is still in her green flannel sweats and a three sizes too big, old sublime tee with the left side hanging off her shoulder. She walks towards the bed with two cups in her hand. I’m sure one is a cup of coffee for her and the other a cup of hot tea for me. It’s odd for her to be up this early. She’s a roll out of bed, put on something presentable, fluff your hair and get this day going kind of girl. She’s a red-headed perfection that way. A one hundred percent natural beauty and I envy her for it. She hands me a mug and I cup it, lifting it to settle right under my chin, feeling the warmth from the steam and smell the aroma of my morning tea. I take a small sip, set it on my night stand and turn towards Gem, who is now sitting next to me.

“You’re up awfully early,” I say, grabbing my tea once again to sip and enjoy my morning addiction.

“Yeah, weird, I know. I just passed out way too early and woke up at five. I know I’m going to regret it come three o’clock.” She says this as she falls back onto my bed nearly spilling her cup of coffee still in her hand.

“Well, would you wanna go for a run with me then?” hoping she’ll actually want to run and not puss out like usual. She gives me a disgusted look and shakes her head in a, “hell no” kind of way. It doesn’t bother me much. I’m not really in the mood anyway.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’m going to finish this cup and jump in the shower.”

She takes the hint and heads towards the door. I finish my cup of tea, wincing as it burns going down my throat. It’s still a bit too hot, but I know it’ll be cold and settled once I get out of the shower.

After my shower, I head into my closet to pick out my clothes for the day. It’s Monday, and I don’t have any meetings with potential buyers who like me to give them a private showing in their homes. I decide on a nice pair of straight legged, dark blue jeans, a white long sleeve shirt, light grey sweater and royal blue flats with a bow on top of them. I let my hair dry in its natural curls and throw it up into a high bun. Only adding a little bit of mascara and blush so people won’t ask me if I am sick. It’s a casual/dressy kind of outfit. Ready for the day, I head out of my room to grab a bite and watch the news before it’s off to work I go.

I grab my purse and keys and I wait for Gemma to walk with me. I open the door and trip landing on my ass walking out. “What the…” I say looking for the offender that almost had me plummet to my death by stairs. It’s a supersize jug of the kind of laundry soap I use, with a red bow on top and a small card attached.
No way.
I go to grab the card, but Gemma beats me to it.

“Hmm, what is this?” she opens the card and reads it to herself. I watch as her face goes from amused to shock in a matter of seconds. She eyes me, then the card and repeat. She closes the card, tosses it to me, still sitting on the ground.

“You wanna explain something to me?” she’s tapping her foot and smirking like the Cheshire cat. I grab the card now sitting on my foot and read it to myself.

Beautiful, feisty, woman on the sidewalk,

I feel like it is my fault for yesterday’s mishap and that I owed you this.

W.H

I drop the card onto the ground as if reading the words burned my hand. I had a feeling I knew exactly who it was from by just seeing the soap; the card confirmed it. I have several questions running through my head. Like how did he know where I lived? Why would he buy me laundry soap? Why be cryptic and use initials instead of his full name? He clearly knows who I am and I have no clue, besides some damn initials, who he is. Why would he find out where I live and bring this to me? When yesterday was only an accident and some awkward staring? Mostly on my part.

A knot forms in my stomach. This all seems very creepy and stalker like to me and I don’t like it one bit. I have no idea how to handle this. I hope with all that’s in me that he simply felt bad about us bumping into each other and my dropping my jug of soap and having it break and spill all over the sidewalk. He just followed me home and then went and got a new one, left it outside my door and will forever leave me be, with a simple, yet weird, kind gesture.

Yeah, that’s got to be it.
Deep down I am only telling myself this. I know this isn’t the end. I can feel it. But I am not going to face that fear. I’ll just push it out of the way instead of confronting it like I do with everything else.

I slowly look up at Gemma, fully aware she’s staring me down waiting for me to answer.

“Well?” she asks, still tapping her foot. “I know that isn’t for me. Trust me, I would totally remember doing something kinky enough that I was owed some soap.” She arches her brows up and down suggestively at me.

I sigh and pick myself up, knowing I’m going to have to explain and she’s going to make a huge deal out of it. Then I get a half-ass idea, “No clue and probably the wrong address. Come on, let’s get to the shop.”

She eyes me suspiciously, rolls her eyes, sighs and says, “Whatever Marlie. You’re lying, I can tell. I will drop it for now, but I
will
interrogate you tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts, about it.”

I just laugh at her in a way that shows I am nervous and also that I know she’s saying she won’t drop it.

We walk down the steps and round the corner to our office/workshop. I’m excited to start my day making a new line of pieces for children I have been contemplating on for months. You’d think making a jewelry line for children would be easier than the adult items I’ve been doing, but not for me. I’m not huge kid fan. Not even a bit. Sure, they are cute and I love seeing them when they are dressed like little adults, but that’s as far as it goes for me. I don’t believe I have a motherly side in me. It’s going to be a challenge for me that’s for sure. But I love a big challenge. Especially now when shits going to get real again; I can use all the distractions I can get.

A lot of my clients have children and they either ask me to make chains for necklaces smaller for their girls or ask if I can make something custom for their darling little spawns. I finally decided to make a special line just for the little ones.

Walking into the office I smile as I look around at my display cases noting how far I have come from the days of just making necklaces, bracelets and earrings for myself or for a friend’s birthday. I’m very proud of the things I have accomplished in just a short amount of time, but I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Gemma and my awesome small team of a staff. They have made everything much more successful for them and me.

Rounding the cases, I see everyone already present and starting on the day’s work. I politely wave and say hi to everyone while I quietly make my way back to my area of chaos. I open the door to my work room or
construction zone
as everyone else calls it. I am the tidiest person you will ever meet. Seriously, I’m so anal about order and cleanliness that Gemma swears I would have a severe case of OCD if it weren’t for the backroom of our store that is my work area. Everything is a mess back here, but I don’t dare to clean it up. I would drive myself mad if I did. I mean, what’s the point? I’m constantly using everything I have back here. No point in putting something away just to come back and dig another thing out twenty minutes later. I don’t know, it works for me this way and I’m not wasting time by cleaning up.

After working for a couple hours, I hear a knock on the door, “Come in!” I yell over the sound of my welding. The door opens and it’s Alex my “everything” girl. I still haven’t found a proper title for her since assistant really isn’t what she. She does so much more for us and the store, but she doesn’t seem to mind her temporary name. Taking off my welding helmet, I wipe the sweat off that has formed on my hairline.

“What’s up chick?”

“Well boss, it is noon and I was wondering if you were going to take a break and go out to eat or would you like me to just go grab you a sub from the deli?”

Shit. Its noon already? This day is flying by. “I’m kind of on a roll here, so can you please pick…”

“Oh no! She is taking a break and coming out to lunch,” Gemma announces standing behind Alex. She’s not going to let this go. I have and it was a nice gesture from a stranger, a completely hunky stranger, but that doesn’t matter.

“Fine you little wench, you’re lucky my back and neck are stiffening up and we will
all
go to lunch together.” I gripe as I unplug my tools. I catch a glimpse of her slightly pouting with her bottom lip puckered out. Of course, I smirk to myself thinking,
I know what you’re up to, you sneaky little bitch.

We all did go to lunch together; Henry, Alex, Gemma and I. We walked to our usual place six blocks down from work. It’s a nice Italian restaurant called Bello Mangiare - translated in English is Beautiful Eating. Everyone calls it Bello’s for short. I get my usual large pasta dish with a name I don’t dare try to pronounce or fake knowing what it is. All I know is it’s amazing and has to be hard on any diet.

We all sit and chat about what we did over the weekend. I repeat Gemma’s embarrassment over flirting hardcore with the gay bartender and us practically rolling on the sidewalk and getting told to leave by the bouncer. We all laugh, even Gemma, who now finds the whole thing stupidly hilarious. Henry spent his Saturday night entertaining his niece and nephew while his sister and brother-in-law went out for a date night. Alex stayed in with her girlfriend and watched an SVU marathon. I truly do have the best crew there is. They are not only my employees, but my friends as well.

Finishing up, the waiter comes over with the bill, “I got it guys, my treat,” I say with a genuine smile and in unison everyone thanks me. After I settle the bill, I stand to put on my jacket, but as quickly I stand up, I sit my ass right back down and cover my face with my hands. Everyone is already heading towards the door, but Gemma and she notices my odd behavior.

“What’s going on?” she asks looking at me completely baffled.

“Nothing,” I spit out, “I just got dizzy all of a sudden. I’ll be right behind you in a sec.”
Good one Marlie. That’s a liable excuse.

She looks at me with concern now, “No way, chick. I am going to make sure you’re cool. We’ll walk back together.”
Shit
. She can’t be here to see the real reason I’m freaking the hell out. When I stood up to leave, I saw
him
- The mysterious soap leaver who I only know as Green eyes and Tats or now, H.M., as he signed on the card.

I slowly glance up towards the table I had seen him sitting at, praying that he left or won’t notice my leaving. Shit. To hell with my wishful thinking. He’s looking right at me and smiling. Why is this guy always smiling? Oh no! Now he’s getting up, coming my way and… Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact. Do. Not. Make. Eye. Contact!

“Hello again,” he says in a smooth tone like a true player would.

I can’t breathe. I try to avoid eye contact but it’s like he has some sort magnetic pull, forcing me to look at him. And when I do, it’s like the whole world has stopped just because I looked. He’s still as dreamy as I remembered from yesterday.

Today though, seems to be even worse, and by worse, I mean a whole helluva lot better. He’s in an impressive suit. Dark navy blue, with grey pin stripes, and tailored perfectly to fit him. Funny, I never would have pegged him as a suit guy or anything really since I have spent the last twenty four hours trying to avoid thinking of him. Him being dressed like this doesn’t help shit. His muscles are covered, but you can still see the outlines of what are massive arms that could wrap me up and squeeze the very last breath out of me.

Stop it Marlie, you can’t think like that. Remember, no men. Ever.
Sometimes my inner self can be such a bummer. She’s one hundred percent right, though. I can’t. I am too fucking damaged to ever think of men, or a man again. Might as well become a nun.

Still staring at him, once again like a dumbass, I finally speak. “Hi,” I squeak.

Smooth, real smooth, dipshit
.

I break contact with his beautiful eyes and look over at Gemma who his going back and forth looking between the two of us. Glaring at me and smiling at him. I am completely screwed.

“Did you get the gift I left you?” he asks sweetly. The mentioning of the gift brings me back to reality.

Before I can reply, Gemma cuts in. “Oh?” she asks in fake high pitched voice. She turns to me, “The soap you said you had no idea about and was probably the wrong address? That’s funny don’t you think Mar?”

Well, she’s pissed. I feel myself shrink on the inside like a toddler who knows they are going to be scolded. She absolutely hates when I keep shit from her, but I’m not going to get off track before I lose my cool and say what needs to be said.