I Totally Don't Love Him...
My precious darling...
I found you.
Finally.
After all this time.
I have followed the trail you left behind.
Not because I was obsessed.
Because I was curious.
People think curiosity is harmless.
They’re wrong.
Curiosity is the first step toward every dangerous thing in the world.
And Damian had become the most dangerous question I’d ever encountered.
The warehouse looked abandoned.
Rust stained the metal walls. Broken windows stared out at the empty lot like hollow eyes. Weeds crawled through cracks in the pavement.
It was perfect.
No one would look twice at it.
Which was exactly why I did.
The entrance wasn’t difficult to find once I knew what I was looking for.
The difficult part had been gathering enough information to know it existed.
A hidden delivery route.
Unusual power consumption.
A handful of security cameras that didn’t belong.
Little pieces.
Tiny clues.
People never realize how much they reveal without speaking.
I picked the lock in three minutes.
Disappointing.
Cool air drifted up from below.
I smiled.
There you are.
The stairwell descended farther than I expected.
Concrete walls.
Industrial lighting.
Security cameras.
Expensive security cameras.
I noted each one’s position automatically.
Not because I planned to return.
Because old habits die hard.
At the bottom of the stairs, another door waited.
This one unlocked with a keycard.
Fortunately, keycards can be copied.
The lock flashed green.
The door opened.
And suddenly I found myself standing in an entirely different world.
The first thing I noticed was the bar.
It stretched along one wall, polished wood glowing beneath warm amber lights.
Rows of expensive bottles lined glass shelves behind it.
Everything was arranged with meticulous care.
Not a single item sat out of place.
Crystal glasses hung overhead.
Bar stools stood perfectly aligned.
I walked closer.
No dust.
No fingerprints.
Interesting.
Damian either cleaned obsessively or hated disorder.
Possibly both.
My gaze drifted farther into the room.
A lounge occupied the center of the space.
Leather couches.
An enormous television.
Several gaming consoles.
Shelves packed with games and collectibles.
I stared for a moment.
Then laughed quietly.
The image didn’t match the man I’d spent months looking for, trying to figure out where he disappeared to at night.
Which made it valuable.
The real versions of people rarely match their reputations.
That’s why reputations are useless.
I stepped toward the shelves.
Trophies sat beside the games.
Competition awards.
Tournament medals.
Apparently Damian took his hobbies seriously.
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Everything I’d learned about him suggested he approached life like a challenge waiting to be conquered.
The farther I wandered, the more rooms I found.
A gym occupied another room.
A rack of dumbbells.
A heavy punching bag.
Resistance equipment.
Everything looked used.
Recently.
The punching bag carried fresh marks.
The floor beneath it had been worn smooth.
Someone spent a lot of time here.
A workshop sat beyond that.
Tools hung neatly on pegboards.
Half-finished projects occupied workbenches.
Storage containers labeled with precise handwriting.
Nothing random.
Nothing chaotic.
Everything organized.
Everything intentional.
I continued exploring.
A small kitchen.
A laundry room.
A surprisingly comfortable library.
That room caught my attention longest.
Books lined every wall.
Hundreds of them.
Maybe thousands.
I ran my fingers across the spines.
History.
Psychology.
Engineering.
Business.
Philosophy.
Fiction.
The variety surprised me.
Most people read within a narrow range.
Damian apparently read everything.
Several books lay open on a nearby table.
Bookmarks protruded from their pages.
Notes filled the margins.
Tiny observations written in dark ink.
I studied them for a moment.
Not the words.
The handwriting.
People reveal themselves there too.
Confident strokes.
Minimal corrections.
Neat but efficient.
The handwriting of someone who valued clarity.
I closed the book carefully.
Every room revealed another version of him.
A version the outside world never saw.
The feared man.
The careful planner.
The competitor.
The reader.
The collector.
The craftsman.
People aren’t singular.
They’re puzzles.
And every puzzle leaves clues.
Eventually I reached a hallway deeper inside the complex.
The atmosphere changed immediately.
The warm comfort of the living spaces faded.
This area felt private.
Important.
The sort of place visitors weren’t meant to see.
At the end of the corridor stood a partially open door.
Light spilled through the gap.
I slowed my steps.
Voices didn’t carry from inside.
No music.
No television.
Only silence.
I peered through the opening.
And found Damian.
At last.
He stood with his back toward me.
A large steel safe occupied one wall.
Computer monitors covered another.
Security feeds flickered across the screens.
The remaining walls were covered in posters.
Movies.
Bands.
Sporting events.
A strange collection of interests.
The room felt personal.
Like a place he used when he wanted to be alone.
His attention remained focused on the safe.
He hadn’t noticed me.
A dangerous mistake.
I opened the door wider and slipped inside.
No reaction.
Interesting.
I crossed the room.
Still nothing.
His concentration remained fixed on whatever occupied the safe.
I stopped directly behind him.
Close enough to hear his breathing.
Close enough to see the tension in his shoulders.
For several seconds, I simply waited.
Then I spoke.
“You missed something.”
Damian nearly launched himself into the ceiling.
He spun around so quickly he slammed into the safe behind him.
The resulting metallic bang echoed throughout the room.
For one glorious second, pure surprise flashed across his face.
Then it disappeared.
Replaced by suspicion.
Alertness.
Calculation.
His eyes locked onto mine.
“Who the hell are you?”
I smiled.
A simple question.
Unfortunately, simple questions rarely have simple answers.
“My name is Nadia.”
His expression didn’t soften.
If anything, it hardened.
“How did you get in here?”
“Through the front door.”
“Funny.”
“I thought so.”
His jaw tightened.
Clearly he disagreed.
For several moments, neither of us spoke.
His gaze evaluated me carefully.
Looking for threats.
Weaknesses.
Explanations.
Anything that made sense.
I doubted he’d find much.
Finally he folded his arms.
“You have about ten seconds before I remove you myself.”
“Only ten?”
“Nine now.”
I considered that.
“That’s fair.”
His eyebrow twitched.
I suspected people didn’t usually agree with threats.
He didn’t take his eyes off me.
“Start over.”
“My name is Nadia.”
“I know that part.”
“Good. Saves us time.”
His jaw tightened.
“I don’t like games.”
“Everyone likes games.”
“I don’t.”
I glanced toward the shelves lined with video games outside the room.
“You have over a hundred that disagree.”
For the first time, he looked almost annoyed.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
Silence settled between us.
He studied me with the kind of focus that made most people uncomfortable.
I simply looked back.
Finally, he spoke.
“How long have you known this place exists?”
“A little while.”
“Define ‘a little while.’”
“I’d rather not.”
“So you break into my base, and now you’re refusing to answer questions.”
“I’m answering them.”
“No, you’re avoiding them.”
“There’s a difference.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You planned this conversation.”
“I planned several versions of it.”
“And this one?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to be staring at a safe.”
He looked over his shoulder for half a second before looking back at me.
“You’ve been watching me.”
“Observing.”
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
“They are from where I’m standing.”
I smiled slightly.
“I disagree.”
His expression remained unreadable.
“You don’t seem nervous.”
“Should I be?”
“You’re alone.”
“So are you.”
“This is my territory.”
“It is.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if you wanted me dead, I would’ve never made it through the front door.”
That made him pause.
Not because he agreed.
Because he’d already thought the same thing.
“You’ve got confidence.”
“I’ve got eyes.”
He let out a slow breath.
“Most people don’t get this far.”
“I noticed.”
“So either you’re very skilled...”
He took one slow step closer.
“...or someone helped you.”
“No one did.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I usually don’t.”
Another beat of silence passed.
“What exactly were you hoping to accomplish today?”
“I wanted to meet you.”
“Why?”
“I was curious.”
“That’s still not an answer.”
“It is.”
“No, curiosity explains why someone reads a book.”
He gestured around the room.
“It doesn’t explain why someone breaks into an underground facility.”
I considered his words.
“Maybe I ran into someone interesting at a bar and wondered where they disappeared.”
He stared at me with a shocked face.
“What?”
“You don't happen to remember me?”
“How would I remember someone I met when I was drunk?”
I smirked.
“You really are obsessed with me to follow a man after meeting them once.”
“Are you sure? Cause I find that many men are interesting.” I lied, but he wouldn't know that.
“Yet you spent enough time finding me.”
“That's because you are more than just interesting.”
“So then you stalked me?”
“Maybe.”
His gaze lingered on me.
“You’ve got a habit of saying a lot without actually saying anything.”
“I’ve been told.”
“It’s irritating.”
“I’ve been told that too.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth twitched.
Not a smile.
Just enough to prove he had one.
“I still don’t know whether you’re dangerous.”
“I was wondering the same thing about you.”
“You came here.”
“I did.”
“So clearly you made a decision.”
“No.”
I shook my head once.
“I decided you were worth it.”
“And that’s different?”
“Very.”
Silence settled between us.
Neither of us looked away.
Neither of us seemed interested in backing down.
It felt strangely familiar.
Like a chess match neither player fully understood yet.
Damian didn’t say another word as I turned toward the door.
Whether he was still trying to figure me out or deciding whether to stop me, I couldn’t tell.
I reached the doorway before glancing back.
He hadn’t moved.
His arms were still crossed, but his expression had changed. The suspicion was still there, buried beneath the confusion, but now there was something else.
Curiosity.
Good.
That was all I’d wanted.
“I’ll see you around, Damian.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
A smile tugged at my lips.
“Sure.”
I slipped out before he could answer.
The hallway felt quieter than before.
Every step echoed softly against the concrete floor as I retraced my path through the underground base.
I passed the library again.
The gym.
The game room.
The bar.
This time, I didn’t stop to admire anything.
I’d already found what I came for.
The heavy metal door closed behind me with a dull clang, sealing the underground world beneath layers of rusted steel and forgotten concrete.
Outside, the evening air felt warmer than I remembered.
The sky had begun to fade into shades of orange and violet, the last light of the day disappearing behind distant buildings.
I climbed into my car and rested my hands on the steering wheel.
For a long moment, I didn’t start the engine.
Instead, I replayed the encounter in my mind.
The way he’d nearly jumped out of his skin.
The disbelief on his face.
The questions.
So many questions.
He wanted answers.
I hadn’t given him any worth keeping.
I finally started the car, pulling away from the abandoned warehouse with a smile I couldn’t quite hide.
By the time I made it home, darkness had settled over the city.
My apartment greeted me with silence.
I kicked off my shoes near the front door and tossed my keys onto the kitchen counter.
The familiar clink echoed through the empty room.
Normally, silence bothered people.
Tonight, it felt earned.
I wandered to the living room, dropping onto the couch with a quiet sigh.
My gaze drifted toward the ceiling.
I wondered what Damian was doing right now.
Checking security footage, probably.
Watching me walk through every room.
Pausing the video every few seconds, trying to figure out how I’d gotten inside.
Maybe he’d already changed the locks.
Maybe he was calling someone.
Maybe he was still standing in that room, staring at the door I’d walked through.
A quiet laugh escaped me.
He’d be looking for a mistake.
People always did.
They assumed there had to be one.
But sometimes the answer wasn’t hidden behind elaborate tricks or impossible plans.
Sometimes the answer was patience.
People reveal themselves eventually.
You just have to wait long enough.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small notebook.
Its pages were worn from years of use.
Flipping to the next blank page, I uncapped my pen.
Damian.
Underneath his name, I wrote only a few short observations.
Organized.
Careful.
Suspicious.
Reads more than expected.
Doesn’t panic.
Asks the right questions.
I hesitated before adding one last line.
Curiosity can be encouraged.
I closed the notebook and set it on the coffee table.
The apartment fell silent again.
Somewhere across the city, Damian was almost certainly trying to understand who I was.
The thought made me smile.
Not because I’d frightened him.
Because I’d interrupted the certainty of his world.
Tomorrow, he’d wake up knowing someone had found the one place he believed no one else could.
He wouldn’t forget that.
And neither would I.
I stood and walked toward my bedroom, switching off the lights as I went.
Before disappearing down the hallway, I glanced once at the notebook still resting on the table.
“Our next meeting,” I murmured to the empty room.
I wondered where it would happen.
Whether he’d see me first.
Whether he’d be ready.
Whether he’d finally ask the question I’d been hoping for.
The corner of my mouth lifted.
Some games begin with a move.
Ours had begun with a conversation.
And somehow...
I had the feeling the next move would be his.
