The Strange Delivery
1661 Words
The knock at her penthouse door wasn’t supposed to mean anything since Amy had ordered nothing, at least, not in the real world.
She opened the door halfway expecting the usual concierge with a message, maybe a misdelivered parcel but what she got instead was two men in black suits and polished shoes standing stiff as marble.
“Good evening, Ms. Adams” one said smoothly. “We’re here to deliver Mr. Vios.”
Amy blinked “Deliver… who?”
“Mr. Vios.”
Her pulse stumbled as the name felt like a hallucination coming to life “That’s… ridiculous” she managed, gripping the edge of the door “I didn’t order a… person.”
“You signed a contract through LuxCierge International” the man replied without blinking, “Section 4A authorizes full physical delivery of the companion within the confidentiality clause.”
Amy laughed but it came out dry “Are you hearing yourself? I thought that site was a scam.”
He didn’t flinch “Would you like to reject delivery?”
Her mouth opened and then closed again, reject delivery like she’d just ordered a blender, and the elevator doors slid open behind them smooth, silent and someone stepped out; not a machine, not an illusion but a man.
Just him - Vios.
Golden-brown hair catching the soft light of her hallway with a sharp jaw and a crisp black suit that fit like sin; his eyes were blue, deep, but unreadable, and there was calm in them that unnerved you because it looked too practiced.
Amy’s throat tightened “This… this is insane.”
The first guard handed her a digital pad “Signature, please.”
She hesitated “If I sign this… what happens?”
“Transfer of contractual custody. All terms commence upon acknowledgment.” He uttered.
She exhaled slowly with her rational brain screaming don’t, while the other side; the one that had stared too long at his profile weeks ago just whispered ‘what if it’s real?’
Her hand trembled as she signed and then the men bowed slightly and left just like that with no further explanation and no instructions.
The door clicked shut behind her leaving her alone with him.
“Alright…” she said with her voice half-laugh and half-warning, “So you’re the… what do I even call you?... ‘exclusive companion’ I apparently hired?”
Vios nodded once “That’s correct.”
“Do you have an instruction manual?” she queried.
That earned a faint and almost imperceptible smile “No.”
“Of course not” she muttered while walking past him, “Why would a human catalog item come with a manual?”
“I’m not an item” His tone wasn’t sharp but firm and measured.
She stopped and glanced back at him “Then what are you?”
He held her gaze for a moment, and then said quietly “Whatever you need me to be.”
Amy felt something strange twist in her stomach ‘Annoyance? Unease? Curiosity? or Probably all three’
“Well, I don’t need anything” she said briskly while crossing her arms, “So… guest wing is down the hall. Stay there. Don’t hover, don’t clean, don’t… whatever it is you’re supposed to do.”
“As you wish” Vios responded.
He turned and walked toward the guest wing without a single wasted movement; polite, efficient, and obedient and it should’ve made her feel in control but it made her feel seen instead.
Amy kept her distance for the first few days as she pretended he wasn’t there and she buried herself in work; conference calls, deadlines, and the endless cycle of business that had always been her comfort zone.
But there it was every morning; the faint scent of coffee wafting from the kitchen, her brand dark roast, two sugars, waiting, steaming and untouched.
She’d find dinner when she came home past ten every night; nothing elaborate but just right. Grilled salmon which was her favorite salad, and the kind of thing you only remembered if you’d been paying attention, and it was him; quiet, deliberate, and fading into the background like shadow, never intruding, and never asking questions, which unnerved her.
After a brutal day at the office one evening she stumbled into the penthouse with her heels in one hand and exhaustion written across her face and she froze when she saw him setting the dining table.
“You cooked again?” she asked, more sharply than she meant to.
“You skipped lunch” he replied simply.
Her brows furrowed “You’re keeping track of that now?”
“You left your lunchbox untouched in the fridge this morning”
She exhaled with half a laugh and half a sigh “You’re observant. Great. Another man who thinks he knows what’s best for me.”
Vios didn’t rise to it “Would you prefer I stop?”
Amy threw her heels onto the couch and rubbed her temples “No. Just… don’t make it sound like you’re reading my diary.”
“I’m not.”
“Good… Because that would be creepy.”
He nodded once and stepped aside for her to pass but she caught him watching her as she sat to eat, not in that hungry possessive way that she’d come to despise but like he was cataloging every sign of exhaustion on her face and that made it worse somehow.
It was day five and the silence was unbearable but Amy tried to pretend his presence didn’t affect her but it did because his quietness was too loud and his calm was too deliberate.
She snapped during breakfast “Do you ever… talk?” she demanded suddenly.
Vios looked up from where he was pouring her coffee “When there’s something to say.”
She scoffed “And you decide when that is?”
He set the cup down gently “You’ve built your world around silence, Amy. I’m trying not to break it.”
The words landed like a punch she didn’t see coming “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“I’m not” His tone softened, “I’m just saying… you don’t have to keep everyone out.”
Amy blinked because she was startled “You think I want to be alone?”
“No.” Vios responded.
“Then what do you think this is? Charity? Some emotional rehab program for women who overwork?”
His jaw tightened slightly “I think you’re tired.”
“Wow” she bit out, “That’s profound.”
“Exhausted” he continued but calm as a surgeon, “Not from work. From being disappointed.”
Her throat went dry “You don’t know me.”
“I know that you haven’t smiled once since I arrived.”
Amy shoved her chair back with a screech “You’re out of line.”
He didn’t apologize but didn’t even blink. He rather just stood there not moving as if he’d expected her anger.
She couldn’t sleep that night while the city glittered beneath her window with millions of lights all glowing but all meaningless.
Her success towered around her in glass and steel and yet she’d never felt so small.
She walked to the kitchen barefoot at some point just for water, and found him there again, quiet and reading something by the counter.
“You don’t sleep either?” she asked, trying for sarcasm.
He looked up “Sometimes.”
“What are you reading?”
He turned the book so she could see ‘The Art of Stillness.’
She snorted “Figures.”
“You should try it.”
“What, stillness?”
“Peace.”
Amy leaned against the counter while crossing her arms “You think peace comes from sitting still? I built everything I have by moving.”
“And yet” he said with his voice low, “you look like someone who hasn’t rested in years”
Her lips parted to argue but nothing came out and for a long second the silence between them wasn’t awkward but it was really heavy, and for the first time she didn’t want to run from it.
She came home earlier than usual the next day and he was there as always but something felt different.
The air was softer and calmer like he’d somehow adjusted to her rhythm, while Amy watched him move about the kitchen with quiet precision, sleeves rolled up, and the evening light catching his hair.
“Do you ever get tired of this?” she asked suddenly.
He turned slightly “Of what?”
“Serving. Obeying. Being… perfect.” She uttered.
His hands stilled for a moment, then resumed chopping vegetables “Perfection isn’t obedience.”
“Then what is it?” she questioned.
“Control.”
She frowned “You sound like someone who’s fought for it.”
He didn’t answer.
So she pressed “Why’d you sign up for this job, Vios?”
He hesitated just slightly “Because it was better than what came before.”
Amy tilted her head “And what came before?”
His gaze flicked to hers; sharp, cold, fleeting “You don’t want to know.”
She felt something in that silence that was not part of the contract and a shadow in his calm and for a moment she thought of telling him to leave, and to stop hovering around her life like some quiet ghost, but instead, she found herself asking softly “Am I treating you like an employee?”
His answer was slow and deliberate “No.”
“Then what am I doing?”
He really looked at her and the air between them shifted while something raw and unspoken pressed against her ribs.
When he finally spoke with his voice was low and almost as a whisper “You don’t have to carry everything alone.”
- Writer
