Alexandra closed her robe up a little tighter. She didn't like the way Mikey was looking at her, with that leering half-grin of his. He was supposed to be a respectable spiritual healer, but Alexandra was creeped out.
"You did good work today," said Mikey, his voice silky smooth. He extended a hand and placed it on Alexandra's shoulder. "You're making real progress, and it shines through. I'll be back tomorrow at 2:00, alright? We'll kick it off with a grounding sesh and then a sound bath. How's that?"
His icy blue eyes were staring deep into Alexandra's green ones. She forced a polite smile onto her face. "Sure, yes. Thank you so much."
No sooner had Mikey driven away than Alexandra collapsed into one of the chairs on the back porch and sighed. She pulled out her phone and texted Matteo.
"Mikey Quinn is a WEIRDO! He creeps me the fuck out. Is this seriously the best you can find?"
Matteo was her best friend and personal assistant. He knew all of the best names in LA, so Alexandra had no reason not to trust him when he sent Mikey Quinn, renowned healer to the stars, to her rental home in Iceland.
It was a strange choice of location for mid-July, Alexandra had to admit. But after she was physically attacked last month by a strange, crazed fan while out on a late-night dinner date, she needed to get away. Fame wasn't everything, and she was learning that more and more. The physical injuries may have healed quickly, but Alexandra had been close to breaking mentally. Her spirit and heart needed repair.
And Mikey Quinn was certainly not going to be the one to do that.
"I'm sorry!!!" came Matteo's quick reply. "He's supposed to be the best. I have so many references for him. Do you want me to see if Healer Sage is available? I can put him on a jet first thing tomorrow."
Alexandra groaned. "No," she replied. "Please just tell Mikey not to come back. Thanks, Matteo. I think I need some quiet time, not a healer."
She put her phone face-down on the side table and leaned back. At least she had this rental.
It was a beautiful modern home with glass walls and black beams, and it was nestled at the bottom of several rocky, moss-covered mountains. Opposite the mountains was a wide-open stretch of land. There was no grass here, not really, just rocky terrain, moss, and streams of water trickling down from the mountains. The stifling heat of Los Angeles had felt particularly heavy when Alexandra left the hospital, so the refreshing coolness of Iceland in July was a welcomed relief.
Plus, it was very quiet. The private driveway eventually connected to the main road, but Alexandra couldn't hear a single car out here. She couldn't hear anything, actually. It was silent, the thick kind of silence that made her feel like she was the only person on Earth.
Alexandra shrugged off her robe and walked over to the hot tub. Tendrils of stream curled up into the air, and Alexandra lowered her body into the hot water. She leaned her head back and stared up at the blue sky. There wasn't a single cloud.
Yes, no more healers. No more weird essential oils and sound baths. She just needed time. Time and space.
An hour later, Alexandra was debating whether or not to get out of the hot tub when she heard the undeniable sound of a car coming up the driveway. She tried not to panic, but she was kicking herself for telling Matteo she didn't need security guards stationed at the end of the driveway. What had she been thinking?
She quickly got out of the hot tub and, without drying off, grabbed her phone and headed back inside the house. She locked the door and stood just inside of it, peering out through the glass while her dark hair dripped water down her back.
Dialing Matteo's number, Alexandra watched as a big gray SUV made its way up the driveway, slowly. Had the driver not seen the multiple "private drive" signs?
"Matteo," she hissed into the phone. "There's some car up here. By the house... no, I have never seen it before... yes, please don't lecture me! You can send security tomorrow. But what do I--"
She broke off as the car came to a halt outside of the house. Alexandra's mind flashed with images of her attacker. He had apparently been stalking her for months before he finally grabbed her and pulled her down the alley. He was in jail now, but there could be more. Why wouldn't there be more?
The driver's side door of the SUV opened and closed, and then a man appeared on the other side, pulling a pair of sunglasses down onto his face. He was dressed like many tourists were in Iceland: cargo pants designed to hold up against both wind and rain, a thin pullover, and solid hiking boots. He had messy brown hair and looked to be about six foot tall.
Not very scary. Not very stalker-like.
He pulled out his phone, presumably to take a picture of the house, but he stopped when he spotted Alexandra in the living room.
"Sorry!" he called, voice muffled through the glass. "The house is cool! I was just going to take a pic! Nevermind! I'm not a weirdo!" He shook his head, and Alexandra could tell, even from where she stood, that he had a sheepish look on his face.
Alexandra wrapped her arms around her slim frame, suddenly painfully aware that she was in nothing but a red bikini. She watched as the stranger got back into his SUV, switched it on, and began to turn around.
She was just breathing out a sigh of relief when a loud "pop" sound caught her attention.
"Ah, fuck!" the guy yelled, leaning out of the driver's side window. "Blowout!"
He had shouted the word back at Alexandra, although he didn't need to. It was obvious what had happened. The car was now lopsided, with the front tire deflated against the ground.
"Just gonna look for a spare!" he called again, getting out of the SUV.
Alexandra watched him rummage around for a bit, coming up empty-handed. Her heart started racing now. What if this was all a ruse? What if he was just pretending to look like an innocent tourist stranded on a road? Could a tire blowout be timed like that?
"You don't have, um, Wifi I could borrow, do you?" he called, taking a few steps closer to the mossy front yard of the house. "There's no signal."
Alexandra sighed. "Um, yeah. Come here, I'll give you the password."
The guy half-jogged, half-walked over to the front of the house and stopped at the bottom of the small set of steps.
"Is this your place, by the way?" he asked, eyes scanning the impressive home.
Alexandra shook her head. "A rental. I'm just here for a bit of me time."
She internally kicked herself. It wasn't safe to indicate she was here alone. She should have said her husband was coming back soon from the store, even though there was no husband. Nor was there even a boyfriend or sex friend, for that matter.
"Anyway," she said, grabbing a piece of paper from the entryway table, "here's the WiFi password."
