Chapter 5
948 Palabras
Chapter 5
Elena woke up the next morning with her phone buzzing on the nightstand like it was angry at her for not answering it the night before. She squinted at the screen. Unknown number. 6:42 a.m. For a moment, she considered swiping the screen and hitting ignore. But something compelled her thumb to hover over the screen.
She answered.
“Elena.” Damian’s voice. Low. Calm. Like he’d been waiting for her to pick up.
She sat up fast, sheets pooling around her waist. Whiskers gave her a betrayed look and hopped off the bed. “How did you—”
“Your number was listed on the pet service app. Mother gave me permission to contact you if I had to arrange something regarding the dogs.” There was a brief pause. “I hope that’s okay.”
She rubbed her eyes. “It’s...fine. Is everything okay with Bella and Beau?”
“They’re perfect. Mother’s taking them to the groomer today. I wanted to invite you out for coffee. My treat. To thank you properly.”
Elena’s heart did that stupid flutter again. She looked at the clock. “I have three walks to do after lunch, but… maybe around 11?”
“Perfect. There’s a place on Madison. Quiet. I’ll send you the address.”
She hesitated. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Simple. Final. Like the conversation was already over.
He disconnected the call before she could say anything else.
She looked at the phone for a solid ten seconds. Whiskers meowed from the doorway like what the hell was that?
“Yeah,” she said finally. “I know.”
The coffee shop was small, nestled between a bookstore and a flower stand, with small, warm-wood tables and the smell of fresh grounds and cinnamon. Damian was there when Elena walked in at 11:03, sitting at a corner table with two cups of coffee in front of him. Black suit, no tie today, sleeves rolled again. He looked up the second she stepped through the doorway, like he felt her coming.
“You’re late,” he said, but there was nothing sharp about it. More like he found it funny.
“Blame Luna. She’s decided that today’s the day to chase all the squirrels she’s ever seen.”
Elena sat down in the chair opposite him.
“You didn’t have to wait.”
“I did.”
He pushed one of the cups over to her.
“Chamomile. Your mother told me it’s your favorite.”
Elena stared at him.
“She’s told me a lot about you.”
She looked at him, and he raised his own cup to his lips.
“You’re good for her. She’s smiled more since you started walking the dogs.”
“Yeah. She’s easy to like.”
“So are you.”
The words were mild, but they were like a stone dropped into a pond. Elena stared at the tea rather than at him.
They talked for almost an hour, and it started with easy topics. The dogs. The park. Her favorite walking routes. Then Damian asked her about Whiskers, and she told him the kitten story—bottle-feeding in the shelter break room, how the little guy still slept on her pillow like he owned it. Damian listened like every word mattered. He asked questions. He remembered what she told him yesterday.
It felt... nice. Too nice.
When she glanced at her phone to check the time, Damian spoke before she could.
“You’re leaving soon.”
“Yeah. The next walk’s at noon.”
He nodded once. “I’ll walk you out.”
They walked out into the crisp air together. He didn’t crowd her, but he stayed close enough that when a bike messenger whizzed by too fast, Damian’s hand brushed her lower back, guiding her out of the way.
Firm. Protective. Gone in a second.
Elena’s skin tingled where his hand had been.
They stood at the corner. She turned to say goodbye.
“Thanks for the tea. And… everything.”
His eyes locked on hers. “Tomorrow?”
She smiled—small, real. “Tomorrow.”
He watched her walk away. Didn’t move until she turned the corner.
What Elena didn’t see: Damian remained on that corner for another five minutes after Elena vanished from sight. Reached into his pocket for his phone. Opened a discreet app he’d installed two days ago—the one connected to the GPS tracker he’d planted in the lining of her backpack when he “helped” her adjust the strap yesterday. Just a tiny thing. Harmless. For safety.
The little dot pulsed on the map. Moving towards Prospect Park.
He let out a slow breath.
She was safe.
She was his to keep safe.
He turned and walked the other way, already planning tomorrow. How he’d ensure their paths crossed again. And again. Until she stopped thinking of it as coincidence.
Until she stopped thinking she had a choice.
Back in her apartment that night, Elena collapsed onto the couch with Whiskers. Scrolled through her phone. Noticed a text from an unknown number.
Glad you liked the chamomile. Sleep well. —D
She gazed at it. Smiled in spite of herself. Saved the number under “Damian Blackwood.”
She did not notice the small lump in the seam of her backpack where the tracker was quietly embedded.
Did not notice how her phone’s location services had been enabled at some point during her coffee—likely when he had asked to see a photo of Whiskers and their hands had touched the screen in passing.
- Autor
