Page 14

Cecily

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I’ve never seen you at these family gatherings.”

I look back to see who spoke to me, and I find a handsome man, who must be around thirty years old. He has dark blond hair and an athletic body, but that’s not what draws attention—it’s his friendly smile.

“Hello. This is my first time here. I’ve been working with Elina for a short time.”

“At the Association?”

I nod my head, agreeing, and he extends his hand in greeting.

“My name is Cage Sinclair. I work at the Kostanidis bank.”

I don’t hesitate to take his hand, as I sympathize with him instantly. “Cecily,” I say, because where I come from people are not formal, introducing themselves only with their first name.

“It suits you,” he says enigmatically, but he’s so friendly that I don’t know if he just praised me with ulterior motives or if he’s just being kind. In any case, interacting with strangers, especially a well-dressed and pleasant-smelling man like him, makes me nervous.

Not the kind of nervousness I felt with the arrogant Greek but a kind of social anxiety.

“Thanks. I’m going to go and see if Elina needs help.” I’m lying, because I saw her about ten minutes ago and she told me to enjoy the party.

“Why the rush? Was I too aggressive in my approach?”

“God!” I say, laughing and feeling my face heat up.

“What?”

“It wasn’t aggressive, but very straightforward, right?”

“Oh, yes. Guilty as charged. Where are you from? I can’t identify your accent.”

“I’m from Kansas.”

“Hmm. Now I get it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you haven’t yet been infected by the bad mood of New Yorkers.”

“You’re not grumpy.”

“I’m not a New Yorker. I was born in Miami.”

“I thought Miami was just a vacation destination. People are born there?”

He laughs but then looks at me intensely. “Is it too early to ask for your number, Cecily?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, not knowing how to answer. He doesn’t attract me, but what’s wrong with making friends?

As if reading my thoughts, he says, “I don’t bite. I just figured you don’t have any friends in town yet.”

“And you want to be my friend?”

“Why the surprise?”

“I’m from Kansas, not Mars, sir.”

“Cage.”

“Okay, Cage . I know that when men like you ask for a girl’s number, it’s with the goal of something more, and I’m not the casual type,” I say and blush because I hear how weird that sounded. “I mean, I’m not looking for a boyfriend either, but if that’s what you want . . .”

Jesus, kill me now.

Why in heaven am I talking this load of nonsense? The man only asked for my phone number; he didn’t ask me to marry him.

To my relief, when I look at him, he’s smiling. “You’re beautiful, Cecily, but what I’m offering, for now, is friendship. But it’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable giving me your phone number.” He takes a wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and takes out a card. “Keep mine for lonely days. I’m the type who responds to messages, so it’s okay to send them in the early hours of the morning.”

I take the piece of paper and feel like a country bumpkin. “I’m sorry for my bad manners. I’m not very used to dealing with strangers.”

“Maybe that’s what makes you so fascinating,” he says, winking, and then he walks away.

I’m getting ready to leave when suddenly I feel my heart stop in my chest, because at the end of the hallway is the reason I made every commitment in my life: Joseph.

He’s already walking, and I close my eyes for a moment, feeling emotional. Maybe I shouldn’t get closer, but I can’t stop myself.

I walk forward cautiously and see a nanny, dressed in pants and a white coat, closely following the little one’s steps.

He looks at the floor, not seeing me yet. He’s about five steps away, and I kneel, waiting.

He seems very pleased with himself for walking, talking, and moving his arms, until he stops in front of me.

He lifts his head, and our eyes meet.

He’s a beautiful child. The most beautiful in the world, to me.

I feel my throat catch, and I stay still because Elina explained to me that he doesn’t like strangers very much. And then, a miracle happens. He reaches out his little hand and grabs a strand of my hair. Concentrating on it, he runs the fingers of his other hand through the strands.

“Hello.” I risk greeting him.

He looks at me but doesn’t seem scared.

I’m dying to hug him, but I know that if I do, I’ll ruin everything.

“My name is Cici, and yours?”

“ Shiiishiiiii.”

“That’s right, I’m Cici, Joseph.”

I hear the nanny’s footsteps approaching.

“How do you know his name?” the woman asks, looking suspicious.

“Elina told me,” I reply, but my attention is still on the little boy. I’m not doing anything wrong. “My name is Cici.”

“Yes, I heard. I’m Mrs. Lisa Nuttle.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She ignores the greeting, and I think she only told me her name as a formality, because then she tries to pull Joseph away from me, offering him her hand.

The boy doesn’t even look in her direction, seeming enchanted by my hair. “ Shiiishiiiii.”

I smile, happy that he has memorized my name. “Yes, Cici, my handsome boy. You are so smart!”

As if he understands that I’m praising him, he smiles the biggest smile and throws himself into my lap.

I open my arms to welcome him, and when I feel his warmth and smell him, I have to try hard not to cry.

“He never talks to strangers,” the woman says.

“He must like me,” I reply, but I know I’m revealing too much by appearing so attached to the boy, so after stroking his face, I turn him towards the nanny and stand up.

When I’m standing, I see Dionysus staring at me from across the hall.

His face is serious, and I’m sure it was watching us.

Oh my God, what have I done?

Trying my best to remain calm, I say goodbye to Joseph and prepare to leave, but the little boy follows behind and clings to my leg.

I cannot move. Even though I know I’m taking risks, I won’t leave him if he wants me to stay.

“Hey, son.” I hear the Greek’s voice, and my heart accelerates. “Are you friends with Cecily?”

I look back, and even though he’s talking to Joseph, Dionysus’s eyes are on me.

“ Shiiishiiiii.”

“How are you, Mr. Kostanidis?”

He doesn’t respond, and in my peripheral vision, I see the nanny walking away.

My nervousness increases.

“What were you doing near my son?” he asks in a lower tone.

“Just greeting him,” I say with a lump in my throat and eager to run away.

However, it seems that the Greek’s heir wants me close by, because he is now grabbing both my legs.

“Your father wants to be with you, my love,” I say to the boy, ignoring the arrogant man. “We’ll talk another time.”

I touch his hair and then walk away, as if I were being chased by the devil himself, which, perhaps, is true.