"What the hell?" I hiss.

"Shh!" he whispers, casting a warning glance down the corridor. "Your mother doesn't know we've met yet, remember?"

I barely open my mouth when mum calls out.

"Audrey?" her innocent voice rings out.

I glare at Erik, who simply raises his eyebrows at me. "I believe your mother is calling you."

"I'm well aware, thanks," I snap before storming down the hallway.

"Erik!" my mother exclaims as I walk into the dining room.

I turn and jump in surprise, startled to see Erik looming soundlessly behind me.

"Come take a seat," she gives him a warm smile and gestures towards the dinner table, where she had neatly arranged the necessary cutlery on top of an elegant, white tablecloth. "You're just in time."

I sit wordlessly at the end of the table where a plate of steaming ravioli in bolognese sauce awaits me. It's one of my favourite dishes, but I suddenly seem to have lost my appetite.

I stare at the red, aromatic candles placed on the dinner table because I'd rather stare at the flickering flames than at Erik and my mum.

How dare he use my mum to get close to me? He's playing my mum as a means to 'protect' her, and that's not right.

I vaguely hear mum introduce Erik to me, and I force myself to smile at him, for mum's sake.

"To Lola," Erik holds up a wine glass. "The most beautiful woman and her lovely daughter, Audrey."

They continue to eat, and I think I hear Erik comment on how delicious the pasta is, but I can't stand Erik's small talk anymore.

"So, Erik," I stick my fork into a piece of ravioli with more force than necessary. "What do you do for a living?" I'm feeling bitter and agitated, and I have a sudden urge to catch Erik off-guard.

"I'm a journalist of sorts," Erik replies, without skipping a beat.

I stab another ravioli. What was I thinking? He's had years of experience in lying. It'll take more than that to trip him up. He could probably convince the Queen of England that the Crown Jewels belong to him.

"A journalist?" my mum pipes up, looking at Erik with interest. "You've never spoken about what you do. Where do you work?"

"I'm a freelancer," Erik replies casually.

"So, being a journalist and all," I emphasise the word 'journalist' to see if I've unsettled him yet, even in the slightest, but so far no luck. "You must get a lot of scoop on people. You know, discovering secrets and all that."

He shrugs in nonchalance. "The truth is," he dabs the corners of his mouth with a napkin before turning to my mother, "I've never talked about it because my job can be tough sometimes, and dangerous. Don't get me wrong. I love what I do, but unravelling secrets about others can be unsettling." He turns towards me, looking me dead in the eyes. "The truth doesn't always set a person free. Not in my line of work anyhow."

My stomach does this awful, churning flip, and I want to vomit, but I don't have anything to vomit up. I glare at my uneaten ravioli, fork shaking in my hand.

"May I be excused?" I say, not bothering to wait for an answer as I scrape back my chair and stand.

I hear her mutter something about me, "Having a tough time at school lately", which only makes me more upset as images of Anita's dead body haunt my mind once more. When I reach my room, I try to close the door behind me quietly without much success.

***

They spent another half-hour talking downstairs. I even heard laughter. That's about the same time I had decided to grab my earphones and my phone and lie on my bed.

I've been lying on my bed now for thirty-nine minutes and counting. Then I hear a knock at my door, and I instantly know who it is, because mum never knocks, she just enters. I try to focus on the music lifting me into a faraway place, but another firm knock draws me back to this stupid reality.

I force myself to get up and open the door. Erik stands there, looking neutral as always.

"I'm leaving now."

"Okay," I respond dryly.

"I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye." I start to close the door. And good riddance. But I only think it, because I'd feel too mean if I say it aloud.

"Audrey." He places a hand on the door. "I don't want to start off like this."

"You should've thought of that before you started dating my mum," I respond, with a hint of bitterness.

"Listen." He looks down the corridor. "Your mum is waiting at the front door. So, I'll be quick." He places a hand on my shoulder, and it takes all my willpower not to shrug him off. "It's not what you think it is."

I roll my eyes but bite back my response.

"I am not your enemy, Audrey," he says calmly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about us earlier..."

"Us?" I repeat, "You two are not a couple. Is this what you call protecting us? Using my mother to get on the inside? Because if that's the case, forget it. We don't need your help."

"Audrey," he begins.

"Don't," I hiss. "Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie. You lied to her about being a journalist, and why you're really dating her. You think relationships work when they consist of lies?"

"Well your father seemed to do a fine job at that," Erik snaps suddenly.

Seeing my shocked expression, he shakes his head and sighs, covering his face with his hands.

"I'm sorry," he says, composing himself. "Your father and I have a long past."

Seeing my expectant face, he eventually continues.

"I've seen your mother many times before, though I highly doubt she has seen me."

I'm about to ask him what he means, but I needn't bother.

"Your father and I were close, but he never properly introduced me to her. As a rule of his, he kept business strictly separated from family. However, when your father went away on his business trips, I was left to watch over the two of you from afar."

When Erik sees the strange look on my face, he laughs.

"Don't worry. I wasn't constantly watching. I've been observing you both from the shadows since as long as I can remember. Even before you were born, and it was just your father and your mother. I knew enough just to check up on you every now and again, making sure you were going about your regular routine as per normal."

As creepy as it is to find out I've been stalked all my life, I can't help but smile at Erik, his usually serious face breaking into a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"So I'm guessing you spent a good amount of time learning about us from the shadows."

Erik nods a little solemnly. "Always from the shadows. Watching you play with other kids in the playground, making new friends in an instant. Hearing your mother's sweet laughter..."

I open my mouth to say something when it dawns on me suddenly. Erik really likes her. Like, really likes her.

"You like my mum," I whisper.

It takes him a moment to respond.

"I just want to protect you both," he says.

I nod my head slowly. "Okay... But you better not try to hurt her or else..."

"Yeah, I know," he cuts in, smiling. "You'll make me regret it."

"I mean it," I cast him a warning look.

"I know," he replies seriously.

"I don't want her involved," I say, though I know we're both thinking the same thing. As long as the assassins are after me, my mum is involved, whether I like it or not.

"I'll see you around." He goes to leave and I wave a goodbye at him. It's not until I'm certain he's gone down the stairs that I lay back onto the bed with a sigh. I try to listen to music again, but it doesn't seem to draw me into another world like it did before. Instead, I lie there, my mind whirring with thoughts. But one, in particular, seems to nag at me the most.

He likes her. In fact, I think it's more than that. Erik loved my mother. And by the looks of it, he still does.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

| Dedicated to @atlas_of_clouds |

One of my many, lovely supporters who also added this book to her favourites! Much appreciated Xx

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