𝟎𝟑| 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

❝It's disappointing how you don't know I'm watching you. But guess this is how real fun begins.❞

𝐏𝐎𝐕: 𝐒𝐈𝐍

The day draped itself in a cold, gloomy shroud.  Rain threatened, hanging heavy in the air, mirroring the unease settling in my stomach. I arrived at the venue, the grand hall echoing with the quiet bustle of preparation. 

A simple cardboard sign bearing my pen name, Mika Salvatore, marked my designated table. 

With a practiced movement, I slipped on my black face mask, a familiar shield against the world.  My anonymity was a carefully constructed choice – a blend of social anxiety, insecurity, and a deep-seated desire to separate my public persona from my private self.

I offered a masked smile and a slight nod to the other authors as they trickled in, their greetings a muffled symphony.  Five minutes.  In five minutes, the doors would open, and the readers would flood in.  Two months had passed since the release of Black Ties: Eclipse, the second installment in my current series.  It was the book I expected to dominate the signing requests, the one that had propelled me further into the dizzying realm of literary fame.  Five books in my previous series had laid the foundation, but this new venture felt different, charged with higher stakes and greater expectations.

"Alright everyone, are we ready? We'll be letting them in shortly," the manager announced, his wide smile a stark contrast to the overcast day.

I adjusted my mask, my fingers nervously toying with the cap of my Sharpie.  The first reader approached, a young woman, no older than nineteen, clutching two books. One was by another author, the other, as anticipated, Black Ties: Eclipse.

"I absolutely love your books!" she exclaimed, her smile so bright it revealed a flash of braces.

"You look beautiful, darling," I replied, signing the title page.

Her smile faltered. "Don't lie. No one's ever said that before." Her voice dropped, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. Had I misstepped?

"Come on, sweetie," I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Everyone is gorgeous, especially my readers."  She finally looked up, a tentative smile gracing her lips.

"When will you reveal your face, Miss Mika?" she whispered, as if sharing a secret.

"Soon," I replied, quickly signing a bookmark for her. "For you. Have a good day."

The next hour was a blur of greetings, signatures, and whispered compliments.  As the crowd thinned, only seven books remained on my table. I began signing them, my mind drifting.  Opening the seventh book, I discovered a bookmark tucked inside.  Someone had likely forgotten it.  But then I noticed something else – a folded piece of paper clinging to the back of the bookmark.

 I hesitated.  Should I read it?  It could be something personal.  But curiosity, that relentless beast, won.  I unfolded the paper.

I hope you're having a good day, Mallika. I forgot to mention last time, you looked beautiful at the club.

                                — Your biggest Fan

A chill ran down my spine.  Mallika.  My real name.  How…?  I crumpled the note, my heart pounding against my ribs, and tossed it into the nearest trash bin.

Was someone following me? How did they know my real name? Who had placed that book there?  Panic seized me. 

I excused myself and rushed to the restroom, the heavy door slamming behind me.  Locking the cubicle, I leaned against the cool tile, gasping for air.  My mask felt suffocating.  I pulled it off, splashing cold water on my face, trying to regain control.  These were the very reasons I had guarded my identity so fiercely.  Who had betrayed my secret?

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

A week had passed, and I'd become a recluse.  Social media was a forbidden territory, my laptop gathering dust. Fear, raw and visceral, had taken root.  Who wouldn't be terrified?  I was being stalked.  It was undeniable.  But by whom?

I decided to adopt a strategy of denial, pretending nothing had happened, that my real name hadn't been leaked.  I spoke with my publisher, who was as clueless as I was. 

Alessia, my manager, was equally baffled. Finally, I ventured onto social media, cautiously navigating the fan pages.  Relief washed over me.  The chatter revolved around my books, not my personal life.  No whispers of Mallika.

Logically, my real name being public wasn't the end of the world.  It wasn't as if I were hiding a criminal past.  But the fact that a stranger knew, the unsettling feeling of being watched, sent shivers down my spine.  What else did they know?

Alessia, bless her pragmatic soul, assured me she would handle everything.  I trusted her.  She always did.

Just as I was preparing for bed, my phone rang. 

Alessia. 

Why was she calling at this hour?

"Hello?" I answered, my voice low.

"Mallika, you won't believe what I just found!" Her voice crackled with excitement.

"What is it?" I asked, bracing myself.

"Your next book signing…it's at the same venue, and…Raphael Moretti will be there!"  The words hit me like a physical blow. My smile vanished.

"Did you hear me? The Raphael Moretti! He wants to meet you! I just received the email from his secretary."

"I don't want to meet him," I said flatly.

"What's wrong? It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! He could even be a fan!"

"I just don't want to meet him," I repeated, my voice rising.

"You will," she said, her tone hardening.

"No, I won't," I countered, the fear morphing into defiance.

"I said you will. End of discussion."  And with that, she hung up.

Raphael Moretti.  The name echoed in my mind, a discordant note.  Why him?  Why now?  Two months from now, I’d be back in the office, face-to-face with him.  Was this some twisted game?

Or…could it be an opportunity, as Alessia suggested?  A chance to…what?  I didn't know.  But the thought, however faint, lingered.