Perfect facde

CHAPTER THREE:

Three months.

Alexander Romano had gone missing for a whole month since he took my camera and took me myself. For ninety days, I ate unexpected dinners, got gifts from surprising sources, and felt like I was living another person's life. Someone luckier. Someone braver.

Maybe it will be someone who is less streetwise.

It should have been obvious at the start that something wasn't right. I became aware of things that people around me were not aware of. Framed emotions. Missed focus. Fleeting tension. That was what allowed me to improve as a photographer. Photography became a habit for me, so my views on things were often separated by taking a picture with my camera.

Still, I didn't consider the bigger picture when I studied Alexander.

I was picked up by a driver after the end of every session for a wedding shoot. I always made it a point not to carry my equipment up a flight of stairs. It took me to eateries that no one could find by searching on Google Maps. One evening he whisked us to New Orleans just because I'd brought up how much I liked live jazz.

He seemed to understand how I felt rather than just my words. I did not know what I wanted, but he did the impossible and made it actually happen for me.

Each time I tried to get some distance, he did something considerate or intimate that made it hard for me to stay away.

It shows how people like that are able to get to positions of power. No one should be forced. With precision.

At Hamilton-Burke's wedding, I was meant to snap pictures of their smiles and happy moments, ignoring how bad they felt about themselves. While taking a picture, I got the sensation that I was being watched.

I continued swimming without having to turn around. It was something I figured out beforehand.

From the other side of the ballroom, Alexander's gaze mentioned me like I was the universe for him. His face was not gentling in any way.

It was possessive.

"Your boyfriend is staring again," Olivia muttered, raising her camera just enough to mask her smirk.

I lowered my lens. "Just get the reaction shots, Liv."

"I'm just saying," she teased. "It's giving a stalker. A sexy stalker, but still."

I forced a laugh and turned back toward the crowd. He hadn't moved. He didn't need to.

He said he had a business reason for attending tonight. But I'd been watching him all evening. He hadn't spoken to anyone. Hadn't mingled. He stood in that corner the entire time, sipping champagne that never seemed to be empty, eyes trained on me like I might disappear.

The bride tossed her bouquet. I caught it midair. The bridesmaid who snatched it screamed and nearly twisted her ankle in the process. I got that too. Click, click, click. Muscle memory. But my mind was elsewhere.

I kept thinking about the time Alexander surprised me with a vintage Leica I'd once mentioned in passing. Or the signed copy of The Americans by Robert Frank he had shipped from Paris just because I'd said it was on my dream list.

He never forgot ' single thing.

James, my three months.

Alexander Romano had gone missing for a whole month since he took my camera and took me myself. For ninety days, I ate unexpected dinners, got gifts from surprising sources, and felt like I was living another person's life. Someone luckier. Someone braver.

Maybe it will be someone who is less streetwise.

It should have been obvious at the start that something wasn't right. I became aware of things that people around me were not aware of. Framed emotions. Missed focus. Fleeting tension. That was what allowed me to improve as a photographer. Photography became a habit for me, so my views on things were often separated by taking a picture with my camera.

Still, I didn't consider the bigger picture when I studied Alexander.

I was picked up by a driver after the end of every session for a wedding shoot. I always made it a point not to carry my equipment up a flight of stairs. It took me to eateries that no one could find by searching on Google Maps. One evening he whisked us to New Orleans just because I'd brought up how much I liked live jazz.

He seemed to understand how I felt rather than just my words. I did not know what I wanted, but he did the impossible and made it actually happen for me.

Each time I tried to get some distance, he did something considerate or intimate that made it hard for me to stay away.

It shows how people like that are able to get to positions of power. No one should be forced. With precision.

At Hamilton-Burke's wedding, I was meant to snap pictures of their smiles and happy moments, ignoring how bad they felt about themselves. While taking a picture, I got the sensation that I was being watched.

I continued swimming without having to turn around. It was something I figured out beforehand.

From the other side of the ballroom, Alexander's gaze mentioned me like I was the universe for him. His face was not gentling in any way.

It was possessive.

"Your boyfriend is staring again," Olivia muttered, raising her camera just enough to mask her smirk.

I lowered my lens. "Just get the reaction shots, Liv."

"I'm just saying," she teased. "It's giving a stalker. A sexy stalker, but still."

I forced a laugh and turned back toward the crowd. He hadn't moved. He didn't need to.

He said he had a business reason for attending tonight. But I'd been watching him all evening. He hadn't spoken to anyone. Hadn't mingled. He stood in that corner the entire time, sipping champagne that never seemed to be empty, eyes trained on me like I might disappear.

The bride tossed her bouquet. I caught it midair. The bridesmaid who snatched it screamed and nearly twisted her ankle in the process. I got that too. Click, click, click. Muscle memory. But my mind was elsewhere.

I kept thinking about the time Alexander surprised me with a vintage Leica I'd once mentioned in passing. Or the signed copy of The Americans by Robert Frank he had shipped from Paris just because I'd said it was on my dream list.

He never forgot any single thing.

James, my ex, couldn't remember my coffee order.

Alexander remembered everything. Almost too much.

By the time I finished the job and began packing up my gear, he was gone. No goodbye. No parting kiss. Just a quiet text.

An emergency came up. Driver's waiting. I'll call you.

It was the third time this month.

Olivia glanced at me as we loaded the cases into the trunk. "Something's off," she said.

"I'm fine," I replied automatically. "Just tired."

She didn't push. She never did when my voice turned flat.

Marco, Alexander's driver, waited at the curb in his usual all-black suit. Stoic, silent, and so still he might've been carved from stone. But tonight, as I settled into the backseat, he spoke.

"Long shoot?"

I blinked at the suddenness of his voice. "Yeah.

He nodded. Pause. Then, casually: "He has all your photos, you know. Mr. Romano. In his office

My brows pulled together. "What do you mean?"

"Your prints. The ones you've given him."

I hadn't given him many. Just one or two. He asked for them after he saw them on my social media page. He said they made him feel.

But something about Marco's tone made the hairs on my neck stand.

When I got home, a small white box sat on my kitchen counter. I hadn't noticed it when I left earlier.

Inside: a silver bracelet. Delicate. Understated. With a tiny charm shaped like a vintage earlier

Tied to the box was a folded note. Alexander's handwriting. Slanted, elegant.

For capturing beauty. Though none as beautiful as you. — A

My heart fluttered like it was reading a love letter.

And then it stopped.

Because I remembered something.

I hadn't told him I would wear a bracelet like that as a teenager. Not in conversation. Not in passing. I'd mentioned it once—to Olivia. In a café. Weeks ago.

And we'd been alone.

Hadn't we?

Ding.

My phone lit up.

Alexander: Did you find your gift?

I stared at the text. My fingers hovered over the screen.

Me: Yes. It's beautiful.

He replied instantly.

Alexander: Not as beautiful as you'll look wearing only that. Tomorrow night. Wait for me.

After putting down the phone, I could feel my skin tingling as if electricity was passing through it. Some part of me felt like grinning. I didn't feel the darkness in that particular movie.

The current situation is different from before. I was still looking for the right term. However, I noticed it in action.

I found myself in my dreams at night, developing films in a darkroom. First, I took photos of the wedding. Soft, warm. Soon the shadows began to appear. The pictures are distorted. Faces changed.

In a series of images, you could see Alexander interacting with the scarred man from the venue's terrace. Going through narrow streets. Being positioned above and unable to see the person.

Blood started bleeding out of the photo throughout the page. The water comes in under the main door.

I started gasping as I woke up.

3:17 AM.

I opened my phone and looked at it.

Another message.

This incident means you're mine now, Emma. Keep in mind everything you experience and hear.

I saw my throat tighten. I went over the message three different times.

His intentions were to protect the environment. He used to say that he wanted only the best for me.

By then, I did not feel secure anymore.

I looked at the bracelet close to where I was sleeping. The piece of jewelry, shaped like a camera, was lit by the moon.

Watching.