Chapter Three

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~Amelie's POV~

The bruises on my wrists were fading. I'd managed to hide them from both Mum and Peter, and I only needed a thin layer of concealer on them this morning to cover the light purple blush.

The mystery man was still that... a mystery.

I hadn't spoken to him since that night a week ago. At first I thought he'd disappeared, a ghostly figment of my imagination that I made up.

But then I caught a glimpse of him. Hiding in dark alleys, sitting on rooftops, glancing out of shop windows. I saw him everywhere. He was following me.

At first I found it creepy. This was a man who literally stalked me, with no other inclination to talk to me. But then I'd remember how safe he had made me feel; how comfortable I felt when he held me in his arms. I remembered his slight musky scent, and suddenly I didn't mind him following me anymore.

But when I'd smile, or once even wave at him, he would vanish. In the blink of an eye, his entire existence seemed to hang in the balance, and I found myself doubting reality once more.

Nobody else had attempted a threat on my life. I put part of this down to the dark haired stranger who protected me from the shadows, but it was an unlikely event that someone would try and kill me three times in one week.

But I tried to forget about him. It was the least I could do for my own sanity.

"Amelie, you're table five. Go." Eve grinned, poking my cheek with a giggle as she ushered me from the back room towards the front of the bar.

I groaned, hitting her arm playfully as I walked past. "Fine, but we're splitting tips tonight."

"That's good with me girly, you get more than I do." She laughed, turning to sign a few copies of paperwork our boss had left for us on his desk.

I chuckled as I walked down the thin corridor, the sound of people chattering and drinking growing louder as the lights lit up the open space. I scanned the bar for a notepad, and slid the black biro from my ponytail as I walked over to the two people at table five.

I recognised them instantly, and felt a wave of worry hit my chest as Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, famous members of the original crime-fighting Avengers turned to face me. I was an outgoing person - I had to be as my entire job revolves around other people, but I'd never served someone famous before.

The pool of anxiety in my stomach settled as I felt the excitement bubbling, and I smiled as I finally met their table. "Have you guys decided what you would like to drink?"

"Scotch on the rocks please." Natasha smiled, her eyes warm as she glanced up at me. I scribbled her choice before the Steve Rogers spoke.

"Just a water."

"Are you kidding me Rogers? We came all the way here for you to have a water?" Natasha scoffed.

"I don't like the taste of scotch," He grumbled, before looking at me. "A water would be great, thank you."

"Coming right up." I smiled, nodding at them before heading back to the bar. It was all I could do to not skip there, I was on a high after speaking to two of the Avengers my cousin idolised.

I was practicing asking for their autographs, deciding I could save them for Peters Christmas present in a couple of months time as I poured their drinks. If I could just keep it a secret and not spoil the surprise then I would definitely beat him at gift giving this year.

I was about to take their drinks back as a lady at a table near them signalled for me. I followed her waving hand quickly, and paused next to her table. "Is everything okay?"

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