I Have an Invisible Stalker (Guardians #1)

Chapter 13

Olivia's POV

"He explicitly forbade me from setting him up ever again." 

I cringe at the high pitch Brooke's voice is rising to. I move the home phone another inch away from my ear and continue to wait until she finishes her rant.

"What did you do? Did you confess to murdering someone?"

"Of course, not." With a sigh, I lean against the kitchen counter and continue to tap my fingers against the spotless top.

It's been three days since my date with Brooke's cousin Nick, but she only now found out about what a dump it had been.

"Then what did you do? Because you obviously did something that freaked him out."

"I think it's because he thought I was talking to myself." He, after all, only heard my part of the conversation with Samuel. "Or it might be because you lied. You said he was interested in me, but it turned out he didn't have a clue about what I look like."

"I..." There's a short silence on her part. "I thought the two of you would hit it off."

"Are you doing this to return the favor for the date I set you up on in the middle of the school year?" I ask.

"I... I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. I set you up with that guy you had a crush on, remember? It's a pity you guys didn't work out. But my point is that you don't need to set me up with someone. I—" The sound of heels clicking against the wooden hallway floor catches my attention. "I think my mom returned from work. I'll call you later."

"Sure." Without as much as a breath in protest, Brooke ends the call.

I lower the phone from my ear and set it back on the charging unit when Mom enters the kitchen. To my surprise, however, she isn't alone. After her follows a woman in her early thirties, whose textured bob screams that she just came from the hair salon. Like Mom, she is wearing a pair of heels, but hers are obviously of a much higher quality. As are the slick pencil skirt and the silk white blouse she's wearing.

"Liv, good you're here." Mom sets her bag onto the counter and ushers the woman deeper into the room. "This is Anya, one of my regular clients. She's the one who brought you those beautiful flowers while you were in the hospital, remember? The ones with the violet and the white petals."

"Of course, I remember them. You looked ready to beat me to a pulp with those flowers." With an eye roll, I turn to the woman—Anya—and smile at her. "It's nice to meet you."

"Yes, it's lovely to meet you again. I believe this is already our third time." Anya turns to me, but more than her rich lavender scent something else catches my attention.

"You're the one with the wallet." I realize why she seems so familiar. "The one who was almost robbed."

"Yes, and thank you so much for that again. Without you, I doubt I would have ever seen my wallet again. You see, I have all my business cards in there, and I really don't want to go through the pain of making them again. I worked hard to shape them into the perfection they are now."

She hands me a small white rectangle and I drop my eyes to the gold letters in the middle of the business card. Anya Ivanova. Finance manager. After it follow the name of the company I assume she works at, her phone number, and her email address.

"It's beautiful." I hand the card back to her.

Anya makes sure she sets the business card directly into the middle of her wallet, in a position which assures not a single of its edges can get even the smallest wrinkle "I'm sorry to barge in on your dinner like this."