Chapter 5 THE STALKER’S INVITATION

MARISSA’S POV

You um forgot this at the grill", he handed me my bag. His hand wrapped around his neck and started to rub it as he mumbled.

I cleared my throat and quickly put the bag on the table.

"Thank you."

I mean if I were in his position I would apologize for literally calling me names and give a decent warming smile. Instead, he stands there with his hands in his black dress pants and stares at the ground.

"Would you um",he starts saying and rolls his eyes. "Do you want to go out somewhere or something?"

I laughed.

And I mean I laughed.

In this man's face.

I try to conceal the tears that swell up in my eyes as I hold my stomach, but it doesn't help.

"And what the fuck is so funny?" I stopped laughing almost immediately when I looked up at him. His hands were bald at his sides and I could see the steam pump in and out of him.

Asshole.

"First you call me a snob, then you corner me next to the bathroom, and now you're asking to go on a date with me?" I laughed at the end.

"You're either crazy or bipolar."

"Holy fuck, will you just answer my question!"

Going on a date with this man? He's good-looking. Has the muscles of King Kong. But his personality is a no-brainer.

"No"

"I say and slam the door in his face.

Dylan’s POV

Fuck. This. Shit

My hand grasped the end of the wooden table and slammed it against the floor.

Followed by a chair.

And then followed by a lamp.

Every girl used to try and touch any part of me or give me the puppy dog eyes while slowly getting on their knees for me.

But Marissa can't fucking be like them. No, she has to be difficult.

Which makes this mission fucking impossible.

I thought coming to New York would take way less than a year. I thought coming here I would accidentally' have her hit my car, and she would be all over me.

I was wrong

Right off the start of talking to her, I knew I was in for a long ride. Now I have to get her to open up to me and do all the romantic shit that makes me want to gag.

I can't even handle my temper around her because all I think about is my mother.

Dead and cold.

"FUCK!" I yell and threw a plate against the wall.

I need to figure out a way to run into her. Her file said she goes to the Café down the street a lot.

But what am I supposed to say? I mean I don't blame her, I did pretty much seem like a fucking psycho today.

My phone starts to ring in my pocket as I'm running my hands through my hair.

INCOMING CALL: Luca Creed Northman

"God damn it," I mumbled as he could hear.

I hit answer and placed the phone up to my ear.

"What?"

I said, If this mission meant getting calls every day from my father, then fuck this and fuck him.

"What's happened so far?" I can see the back of my head by how far my eyes roll. I'd rather burn into flames than listen to this man's voice so close to my ear.

"I tried, she didn't listen."

"I asked you to do one fucking thing, Dylan!"

"You're joking, right?" Sometimes I try to be somewhat polite. Sometimes I try not to let my anger get the best of me, but in this case, my anger has officially boiled over its tipping point.

"I've been here for only 3 days, so shut the fuck up. And if you have a problem with how I'm doing it, you can get your lazy ass over here and do it yourself," I yelled into the phone.

He went quiet for a second, but then opened his fucking mouth. (And if you haven't noticed, I say fuck a lot. It's the kind of word that makes me feel fucking fantastic. I own that word, bitch)

"Speed it along," he said before hanging up.

I have to talk to this girl. Whether it means giving her a bouquet or trying to seduce her.

I need to talk to this girl.

And fast.

Marissa’s POV

"Tell me we weren't just friends! This doesn't make much sense, yeah!" I sang along with the lyrics booming out of the speakers, while my hair was flying all around from the wind.

God, I love this song.

"And just tell me what you're doing with that other guy?"

My mother sent me on a grocery haul this morning, so I put on a collared sweatshirt and jean shorts and ran right into my car.

The whole ride I just jammed out and drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, which was something I did quite often when listening to music.

But then a call ran through the speaker. And I felt my stomach get nauseous as I looked to see who it was.

INCOMING CALL: Dad

Of course, I was hesitant to answer. Who wouldn't be?

"H-hello," I breathed into the phone. My voice was shaky.

And sometimes I knew it was out of fear because what if I said something wrong, and he thought I'm a fool?

"Marissa?"

"Yes, Father?"

"I need to speak to your mother. It's urgent."

I felt my face fall. I was stupid to think he was calling to see what I've been up to while he's away at work.

To call and see if his daughter did her best work on the exams, but no. He would never do such a thing. It feels as if it's illegal to ask questions to his only child.

"I'm not with her right now. Can't you call her on her number?"

"Excuse me?" He lowered his voice.

Oh no.

"Father, you know that's not what I-, before I can even finish my sentence, I'm cut off by his agitated voice.

"I am your father, Marissa. You do not disrespect me, understand?"

"Yes."

"Good, now have your mother call me."

And then he hung up. Sometimes I feel as though he's the bad father, and I'm just someone he picks on and gets amused by it.

Other times I feel as though I'm just useless and don't know how to do anything right.

Deep down I knew it was him. But I never wanted to admit it, especially to myself.

I pulled into the parking lot and quickly ran into the store, grabbing all the vegetables and fruits that were on the grocery list.

Whenever father came home, he always had maids and chefs take care of it all, but now that he is gone for another year, it meant having to do it ourselves. Which never made sense, because why couldn't he have them stay while he was gone?

Anyway, I walked over to the checkout and placed the items at the counter, watching as the boy scanned and bagged.

Over and over and over again.

Finally, I paid and grabbed the bags off the counter.

First, there was the blinding sun on my face.

Then my arms were getting tired of the heavy bags.

And lastly, a black-headed boy was leaning against my car.

Ironic, isn't it?

"What the hell!" I shouted across the parking lot while getting closer to my car. "What are you doing? Stalking me?"

He glared, then eventually stopped and gave a charming smirk.

"I could say no, but then I'd be lying, wouldn't I be?"

I scoffed and moved my hair out of my face from the wind. This man didn't wear anything but black because now he just wore a black shirt and jeans.

Remember him in a suit?

Stop it, Marissa.

You need to focus on the fact that this man has followed you everywhere.

Including your house...

Wait for what?

Oh my god, this psycho knows where I live.

"Look, we got off on the wrong foot,"he sighs.

He grabs the grocery bags out of my hands and tucks them away in the car. "I think you should let me take you on a date."

I hold my hand up, blocking the sun so I can see him better. And oh my, do I see him better.

"And why should I let you, stalker?"

"Because it's nice to get to know people. I'm not a stalker, darling." He crossed his hands against his chest and I felt things.

"Well, if you don't want to be called a stalker, don't act like one."

"Fair point,"he says while itching his eyebrow.

Hot.

"What's your name?

I can't go on a date with someone who doesn't give me one," I taunt back.

He puts his hand in front of me and gives one of the fakest smiles ever, "Dylan."

I shake it with my free hand and feel a tight grip on him.

Remember when he crumbled your hand, Marissa? You should at least have some decency for yourself and not say yes.

"Sure I'll go," I blurted out.

Damnit.

"Good, I'll see you soon then, Marissa."

And with that, he disappeared into a car a couple of lots down and sped off.

In the black Mercedes that he screamed at me for denting.

This will be fun.