Chapter 2: A Nameless Parcel With No Return Address

"Is everything here?" Marcus asks once we get the stuff inside our apartment. 

Yes, and by ‘our’, I mean we're sharing it. We rented it as soon as we saw the design. It was indeed the best deal we could find on two days' short notice. Besides, it will be only a temporary residence until I save up enough to buy a home. I can't believe I'm going to be living together with him. 

I remind myself that it's only temporary—but it doesn't change much.

"Did you get a response from Myra?" Marcus puts down a box of kitchen utilities he was carrying on the floor and cuts them open.

My eyes follow his arms, the way his muscles flex and relax and the sweat that coats them. He's only wearing a blue T-shirt and jeans. I'm not attracted to him or anything, but I haven't dated for five years. 

It doesn't hurt to admire a free show, right?

His question comes back to me. "She's invited us to an event. Skylight Novels & Publishing is going to celebrate the opening of its branch in San Francisco tonight."

"That's nice. But what about Ben?" He looks up from his work, paying attention.

Did I mention I just love how he cares so much about Ben?

"Yeah, I already talked to Myra if I could bring him with us. She said it's fine. She's bringing her kids there as well; so Ben would be safe and occupied with them. They'll have their own playroom and whatnot."

It worries me a little to leave Ben with someone else, but I suppose that's just a mother's intuition. I will go check up on him from time to time.

"I think Ben would enjoy his time." Marcus gives an approving nod and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He replaces a few other boxes before heading towards the bathroom, to my guess, to take a shower.

I absent-mindedly take a stroll through the apartment and gaze around all the giant stacks of boxes we've brought. However, curiosity fills my brain when I see a brown parcel with no sender name or return address on it, placed on the dining table in seclusion.

I almost forgot about it during the move. It still bewilders me to guess who'd send an unnamed parcel to me. But what lies inside the box excites and terrifies me at the same time.

I hope I'm not dealing with a serial killer.

I take the parcel in my hand and check for any details once more. But it's just my name and address on it like the first time.

Holding the parcel, I hesitate for a second or two before I get a grip on myself and decide to open it. My fingernails hover close to the tape and taking my time, I tear it open. The sound of the tear echoes in the quiet hall.

But not long after, a wild scream silences the echoes—my scream.

I yelp and bounce back in all hysterics as the contents of the parcel spill out. My heart jumps to my throat and my brain freezes.

My hands are trembling and tears slide freely down my cheeks. I don't hear him, but soon enough, I feel a protective set of arms wrap around me. Marcus holds me and kicks away the parcel I've dropped.

But the sight is still horrendous and fearful.

"Snakes! Snakes!" I scoot away from the heinous beings as far as I can.

It takes a moment for my brain to calm down and take in my surroundings. Only then do I find out that the snakes are motionless on the floor and not slithering about.

Marcus rescues me from the spot and brings me halfway across the hall. With great care, he puts me down on the couch. 

My heart still races, but my mind is no longer frozen; which is why the shame of Marcus's nudity dawns upon me like Zeus's lightning bolt.

"Marcus!" I gasp, covering my eyes with the back of my hands. I can't forgive myself for invading his privacy.

The poor guy has the scent of fresh shower and soap on him and only a towel around his waist.

"I'm sorry! I heard you scream, and I didn't think—" He cuts himself off and runs away to put on his clothing. When I see him return, he still has wet hair, but at least he's covered his torso.

When the shock subsides, I'm overwhelmed by the previous terror that's still lying on my floor. Marcus kneels before me and soothingly rubs my back. "You okay?"

"Yeah... Can you just dispose of them? I don't think I can handle it. Whoever sent that parcel knew I'm terrified of snakes."

He nods and walks to the spot. I don't see what he's doing. In hopes of providing ease to my fearful mind, I close my eyes and rub my forehead. My heart is still hysterical.

I hear footsteps approach me soon after. I open my eyes and see Marcus stand before me with a scrap of paper in his clutch.

I instantly recognize it. "A threat letter as well?" 

This nameless person has some serious psychotic problems. 

"What does it say?" I can read it on his face that Marcus doesn't want to tell me. Thinking that it couldn't get any worse, I sneak the paper out of his fingers. And sure enough, it's a threat letter.

'Next time think twice before stealing other people's work, bitch.'

"Is this related to that anonymous account that bullied and accused you of plagiarism?" 

I acknowledge his question with a shrug as I recall something similar. Around six months ago, a person online started accusing me of plagiarism and defaming me. I reported her to all the social media I use. The issue never got bigger, and the person disappeared.

I've never heard anything from him again until this parcel.

"You know what? Why don't you get some rest? You'd want to have your beauty sleep before the event, right?" Marcus suggests, snatching the paper out of my hands. 

Honestly, if I stared any longer, those words might start moving out of the letter.

I smile at him and do as he says. I've long lost my appetite, so I skip to the bedroom. But instead of going to mine, I sneak inside Ben's bed and under his quilts. I peck him on the head and fall asleep curled up beside him, pushing all the negativity and overthinking to the back of my head so they don't invade his sleep.

******

"Do you think I look weird? I'm not used to dresses." I ask Marcus as we enter the hotel lobby. 

From my experience with Denzel, I know these kinds of events ought to be fancy and I don't want to be an outcast. But wearing six-inch-high heels and limping around isn't helping my situation either.

"Only a blind man would call you weird tonight, Naomi." Marcus intertwines our arms as we make our way to the celebration. And it isn't a romantic gesture, it's to make sure I don't fall and bruise my pretty face.

We've already left Ben to Myra's care in one of the booked rooms. She has security watching over the kids and they can call or FaceTime us whenever they need.

The slow music of the violin and the scent of expensive champagne fill the hall as we enter. It's a rich people's party, as I've assumed. But in my black maxi with a slit up to my thigh and Marcus in his business tuxedo, we don't stand out.

The editors and agents from Skylight Novels & Publishing will be here tonight. Marcus needs to play his role, and I'll have to roll with mine.

Myra approaches us and steals away Marcus to introduce him to the chief editor, her boss. Then she returns to me and takes me to meet her co-workers and friends. We talk about my next submission to her team, and its likely potential to get contracted.

"You know, I don't think romantic tragedies are widespread in terms of e-books." One editor from the group says.

"That's because people only favour happy endings. Their life is tragic enough as it is." It is an author who speaks.

"They're right when they said happy endings only exist on paper," Myra speaks disappointedly. And I wouldn't expect anything else from a devoted employee and also someone who has a full-time job as a single mother with two kids and no spare time.

If it wasn't for Marcus, I, too, would probably feel that way.

"That's not true." The voice comes from behind me and it sends a chill down my spine. 

Suddenly, that voice casts a powerful spell that overtakes everyone. No one is chatting in the entire hall and the music has dimmed too. Nervousness and fear overwhelm the people in front of me.

I know a person who has that same effect on the people in his surroundings. Someone who takes control of the entire crowd the moment he walks into a room.

"I do actually believe in happy endings." The voice continues and footsteps approach our circle. Everyone gets extra cautious, as if a predator is heading their way. 

"You just have to be cunning and powerful enough to have it." The man gives away his empty glass to one server. And just when I think he wouldn't recognize me, his neck turns my way and a pair of electric blue eyes stare into my soul.

"Don't you agree, Miss West?" A crooked smile stretches across his face with, what I can assume is, a wicked intention. What's more fatal is that the smile doesn't reach his eyes.

I try to smile back like a normal person, but my lips freeze in place. So I end up nodding rapidly.

He laughs, amused. His eyes wander around my skin and then fix on my face as if he's confirmed his next prey.

"It's been a long time, Miss West."

There is a void in his tone that speaks louder and cuts sharper than his actual words. And this time too, I end up nodding like a tongue-tied idiot. Even though I'm frozen in shock and fear.

"Hope you guys wouldn't mind if I whisk her away for a quick get-together?" 

Denzel intertwines our arms and whisks me away before anyone can oppose him. Not that it was going to happen. He didn't even give them a chance.

He drags me away from the hall in urgency. I trust him to lead the way as I keep turning back to find any trace of Marcus. Denzel doesn't stop jogging and dragging me behind him until we've reached a secluded terrace.

When we do, he lets go of my arm quickly and harshly. It makes me believe as if he's appalled. His back has been facing me for some time, but when he turns around, I see pure rage flush his face and no mercy shine in his terrifying eyes.

The only thought weighing on my mind is that I don't want to die young.