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    The Man in the Shadows: Mysterious Men Series, #1
    The Man in the Shadows: Mysterious Men Series, #1
    The Man in the Shadows: Mysterious Men Series, #1
    Ebook145 pages1 hour

    The Man in the Shadows: Mysterious Men Series, #1

    By Angelin Sydney

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    About this ebook

    The Man in the Shadows begins with the story of Charley Kiernan, the daughter and the primary caregiver of her father, Arthur, an ALS-sufferer. Their situation compels her to decide to find work as an escort. The first time she goes on the job, Phil Wayne, a mysterious man, intercepts her from her client.  

    It is to be the beginning of several rendezvous. Their meetings, in dark rooms, are full of intrigue, mystery, and tenderness.

    Eventually, they are surprised to find that love has found its way into their hearts in this most unusual of circumstances.

    The Man in the Shadows is a deeply moving, tender, and unconventional love story.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMassachusetts Books
    Release dateMar 29, 2019
    ISBN9781386551041
    The Man in the Shadows: Mysterious Men Series, #1
    Author

    Angelin Sydney

    Before becoming a full-time author, Angelin Sydney was one of the most prolific contributors to fanfiction and fictionpress where her compelling style of story-telling had strong followings. She was a journalist for a daily business paper in the Philippines. Since moving to Australia many years ago, she has had numerous incarnations. She was a banker, insurance seller, housing loan broker, home-stay mother to hundreds of international students, small business operator, casual kitchen hand and a nanny. She’s really been around. Her most consistent role, however, is being a mother to four wonderful people. Sadly, one of them has gone ahead, leaving her to write stories to help others to heal, laugh, hope, and continue to dream. In all honesty, the only thing active about her is her imagination. It is as fertile as the rice fields of the Philippines where she was born. About Her Stories They are original, funny, swoon-worthy, and thrilling to the core. She’s the self-styled queen of romantic comedy and romantic thriller. Follow her on Twitter: @Angelin_Sydney and Instagram: writingangel

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      Book preview

      The Man in the Shadows - Angelin Sydney

      1: Sight Unseen

      HE HAD BEEN WATCHING HER since he pulled into the parking bay. Ten minutes was long enough for him to know that she was nervous as hell. She had been fidgeting and pacing next to an old Beetle in the Park Hyatt’s car park.

      Underneath all the make-up that made her look sophisticated and womanly, he was certain that she was young. Looks can be deceiving. Dress a young girl in sequinned mini and high heels, and she could appear old enough to pass herself off as a twenty-something. But his gut was telling him it was more likely that she was barely a month past legal. He could be wrong, but he doubted it.

      He sighed. Deep in thought, he put his hand over his mouth as he kept watch.

      She pulled down her mini dress for a hundredth time as though it could stretch. It wasn’t going to no matter how hard she tugged at its hem. Eventually, she stopped before she tore the dress to shreds.

      Concealed within his Mercedes Benz with tinted windows, he watched as she took a deep breath under the glare of the car park’s LED light.

      There could be many reasons she was working up the nerve to go inside the hotel, but he’d been around the block to know of only one that made sense. It wasn’t just because her dress was short. More to the point, there just wasn’t enough material to make a handkerchief out of her attire; the backside was so low it only covered her bottom; the front barely covered her breast.

      She continued to pace, occasionally also running her fingers through her hair as though doing it could remove all fears. She was at pains about what she was here to do. The decision, however, was made for her. The phone in her hand lit up. Someone was calling; someone who was probably as impatient as she was scared. Apprehension was visible on her face as she put the phone to her ear.

      It was a brief call. It confirmed his suspicion.

      At last, she was ready to move; she opened the Beetle’s door to get her silver clutch bag. She put her smartphone in it, then locked the car and put the keys in there too. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. She took a tentative step then clumsily tripped on her foot. She stopped her fall by bracing against her dusty car.

      He smirked to himself. She’s not even used to wearing heels.

      He got out of his car as he made a spur of the moment decision, one that would later make a significant impact on their lives. He made a beeline towards the hotel lobby. He would be at the front desk way ahead of her, considering how she was barely walking on her five-inch poles.

      He was a regular. The hotel had had his details on hand for years.

      The night clerk greeted him amiably, happy to see a frequent guest.

      ‘Mr Wayne, how are you?’ They always greeted him by his last name. It was too formal for his liking; he preferred Phil. But the staff had to follow specific protocols; not being overly familiar with guests was one of them.

      He signed a card, then passed it back to the clerk to exchange it for a key to his room.

      ‘A lady will enter right after I leave. Give her a key; tell her there has been a change of room number.’

      The instruction was necessary. She would have been given a specific room number and would head there directly unless he intercepted her. It was such an out-of-character thing for him to do—hijacking a prostitute—that even he was surprised at his audacious meddling.

      But there was something about her. It was as though she needed saving.

      THE DOOR TO THE LIFT was closing as she walked into the main entrance. He didn’t hang around to wait. The night clerk would do as he was told.

      Phil opened the door with the electronic key card. He closed the door slowly and deliberately, panther-like almost, just because it had become ingrained in him to act in a measured way. He removed his suit, then draped the Armani jacket on the back of a chair. Like always, he opened the curtain slightly, enough of a crack to see the Sydney Opera House across the water. He closed the black-out curtain again; it enveloped the room in complete darkness.

      By feel, he removed his personalised cufflinks and pocketed them. He was rolling his sleeve when he heard the door click. Languidly, he slid into an armchair that was facing the door, his back against the wall.

      ‘Hello?’ she said.

      Her voice was tentative and soft.

      She held the door open. The only source of light was the one in the hallway.

      ‘Hello?’ she said again.

      ‘Close the door,’ he instructed in a manner that was gentle yet firm.

      He could see her silhouette in the ambient light behind her.

      Briefly, she stayed rooted to the spot, then asked if she should turn on the light.

      ‘No,’ was his short reply.

      She wondered what to do next. If she closed the door, the room would be shrouded in darkness. Should she wait for him to do something? Should she ask what he wanted? She was new to this and to be truthful she could count the number of times she had had sex: only once.

      ‘Close the door,’ he said again.

      She did it this time.

      ‘Make yourself comfortable. Take off your shoes and sit.’

      She waited for her pupils to adjust to the absence of light before making a move. Now, she could see the bed. It was still untouched. The pillows were as they should be, and the bed sheets and the down comforter were flat as a pancake and tucked in. Nervously, she removed her shoes before sitting on the edge of the king-size bed.

      She waited for him to say something.

      Seconds and minutes ticked by.

      There was nothing but awkward silence, not even the sound of heavy breathing.

      From the source of his voice earlier, she knew he was behind her, sitting on her right. She wanted to glance back but hesitated.

      Perhaps he didn’t want to be identified.

      Will he kill me if I see his face?

      The thought gave her the chills; goosebumps rose on her arms.

      It didn’t help that the room was very cold. The thermostat must have been set at the lowest possible temperature. She dropped her head a little, then hugged herself to rub her arms. It didn’t do anything to warm her up.

      Her nervous gestures didn’t escape his notice.

      He asked, ‘What’s your name?’ in an attempt to calm her.

      She sighed softly, trying her hardest to keep her anxiety under control.

      What’s my name?

      She didn’t think she’d be asked that.

      Why would he bother? Why would he, or anyone for that matter, be interested?

      She decided to give him the name that the Madame had christened her with.

      ‘Lola,’ she said.

      ‘Really?’ he said in disbelief, adding, ‘You can do better than that.’

      ‘My name is Lola,’ she insisted, a little angry. She felt a tad insulted, too.

      ‘We both know your name is not Lola.’ He paused before continuing. ‘What’s your name? And don’t bother making one up, I’ll soon find out.’

      What does he mean by that? she thought. How could he find out?

      But she didn’t want to risk his ire. Besides, it was unlikely that they would meet again. A second rendezvous was highly improbable.

      ‘Charley with an E Y,’ she finally admitted. She didn’t have to tell him how to spell it, but she had gotten used to saying it. It was just an automatic response, like saying ‘Liza with a Z’.

      ‘That’s a nice name,’ he replied with sincerity.

      Charley

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