Page 7 of Dario

I know what you did, slut!

Fear hits me. The same person sent this as the other. Same handwriting. Same name calling. What does he refer to? I don’t have skeletons in my closet.

I take the elevator up to my apartment on the fifth floor. The building is low, with only seven floors and a parking garage in the basement. I don't like parking down there, so I'm lucky to always find a spot outside. My car is an oven until the air conditioning kicks in, but I'm used to it at this point.

I smile as I enter my one-bedroom apartment. I love this place. The walls and floors are white, but the artwork, rugs, and blankets are brightly colored. I enjoy the warm welcome I always receive when I walk in. It doesn't matter if my trip is long or short. It’s my place. It’s my home. It’s my safe haven.

Or is it?

A sinking feeling in my stomach makes me feel a little queasy.

I drop the goods on the kitchen counter and read the note again.

There is nothing in my past or recent experiences to have prompted these notes. I have never been a terrible person.

I pin the note to my fridge on top of the other, and then move to look out the patio doors. There is a small balcony with a tableand an Adirondack chair. I do not look at that. I look at the ocean in the distance. I can also see the top of Viking Arena.

My eyes move slowly as I look outside the building and across the street. It makes me nervous after running into Wayne. However, I have a feeling that that was not an innocent encounter. Knowing the man, I think he planned it. I wonder if he’s watching. Did he leave the note?

Until today, in the grocery store, I enjoyed the fact that no one in town knew me. I’m not treated with sympathy because I am Julian Michaels daughter.

Then Wayne had to show up and mention my sperm donor.

No wonder I feel uncomfortable.

CHAPTER FIVE

DARIO

My muscles shakeas I force myself to swim another lap of the pool. I've been swimming since I was eight years old. In high school, I was on the swim team and played hockey. Between the two, I had no social life. After I decided to focus on hockey, I continued to swim every morning before breakfast. I found it to be a great cardio workout, and when combined with gym time, I was ready to hit the ice.

I pull the goggles off my head and slap them on the edge of the pool, where I rest to catch my breath.

There is only one other swimmer here at this hour of the morning, and he swims much slower than I do. I would probably sink if I swam that slowly. I'm not sure if he's here to watch me, like a reporter, or if he really enjoys swimming like a snail.

I pull myself out of the pool and shake my head, spraying water like a wet dog. I raise my arms to the ceiling and roll my shoulders, aware that I’m being watched. I then run a hand down my chest and over my cock in the white speedos. I take my time with this part of my anatomy.

I grin to myself and enter the dressing area, taking one last look at the guy.

A few more people are in here getting ready to swim. I grab my things and head for the showers.

I throw my speedos, cap and goggles into a pile and enjoy the feeling of hot water on my muscles.

It doesn't take me long to shampoo my hair and remove the chlorine from my body. I turn off the water, dry myself quickly and wrap the towel around my waist, only to realize I'm not alone in here when another shower starts. Is that the slow swimmer? Must be.

I get dressed and head out, checking the team's group chat to see if I missed anything important.

"Morning, Dario."

I look up and grin at the three women behind the information desk. "Good morning, girls. Isn't it a little early for you ladies to be at work?" Maybe I'm a flirt. Okay, I’m a huge flirt.

"We had something to do," the younger girl explains. The three of them giggle, and I don't miss the blush they're all wearing.

"Well, keep it up." I wink and leave. At least I hold my laughter until I get in the car.

Something tells me they loved the entertainment I gave them. I noticed them about halfway through my swim and didn't think about it until I got out of the water.

I text Madden and Bradford to see if they want to meet for breakfast. We share an apartment, but none of us are very good in the kitchen. Madden replies that they will meet me at DeLuca's Diner.