#stalkersgonnastalk
ROUGHRIDER HAS NEVER touched me, but damn, is he under my skin. Our IM dates have become a nightly thing. When I got out of the shower yesterday evening, thinking of messaging him for our date, I already had a message from him.
ROUGHRIDER16: Sorry, something urgent came up. I’ll be tied up for a while. I’ll msg tomorrow.
I’d been disappointed, which would have been funny if it hadn’t been so sad. How could I have let myself get so wrapped up in someone I don’t really know anything about?
My heels click on the concrete floor of the office hallway a little louder than necessary. I’m crabby and eager to wrap my hands around the cup of Starbucks Jane always has waiting for me.
But when I look at Jane’s desk, it’s not my coffee that grabs my attention. Ben Durant is leaning against the wall, apparently chatting with my assistant.
“Sienna.” He stands up straight when he sees me. “Why haven’t you returned my messages?”
Ugh. I made a big mistake going out with an investor. Now I have to figure out how to untangle myself from this mess.
“I’ve just been really busy.”
His expression is skeptical and contrite at the same time. “Can we talk in your office?”
In my mind, I’m replaying this tall, seemingly average man begging me to tell him he’s a bad little bitch. And not only do I not want to think about that night ever again, I definitely don’t want to talk about it.
“I . . . might be able to do that.” I look at Jane, trying to telegraph my desperation. “How’s my schedule this morning?”
“Wide open.” She grins victoriously.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Come on in,” I tell Ben.
Jane and I need to work on some nonverbal signals for future reference. She’s still looking pleased with herself when she calls out, “Oh, delivery for you on your desk, Sienna. I left your coffee there too.”
“Thanks,” I say weakly.
The delivery turns out to be an enormous bouquet of red flowers. There are a half-dozen different blooms, all the same gorgeous shade, arranged in a tall, cut glass vase.
“Oh, Ben.” My shoulders drop, and I look at him. “You shouldn’t have.”
He arches his brows with surprise. “I didn’t.”
“They’re not from you?”
“No. I wish they were, though.”
Furrowing my brow, I walk over to the flowers, their sweet scent greeting me as I pluck a small white envelope from its holder.
When I read it, my pulse quickens.
I’m sorry about last night. I know the ride’s been rough lately, but you still mean everything to me.
RoughRider sent me these flowers. That’s very real. This is the first tangible sign of the man whose identity eludes me. I do matter to him.
“Are you seeing someone else?” Ben asks, his tone hurt.
Thinking fast, I realize this is my out.
“Yes. We’ve had a long-term thing, actually, and we were on a break when I went out with you, but we’re back together now.”
“Back together?” He looks deflated. “So there’s no chance for us?”
No chance in hell, I want to say. You’ll have to find someone else to spank you and fist your ass.
“I’m sorry,” I say instead. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”
Ben sighs softly and looks at the floor. “Okay. Can we keep what happened between us private?”
Ha! As if I’d ever want anyone to know about it.
“Absolutely. Thank you for understanding.”
He leaves my office looking dejected, and I exhale deeply. Bullet dodged.
I admire the flowers and read the card again before sitting down to message RoughRider, unable to keep the silly smile from my face.
SIENNAM: The flowers are gorgeous. Thank you.
He writes back immediately.
ROUGHRIDER16: Good. I chose red for your hair. It’s beautiful.
SIENNAM: Thank you. Will you tell me what color your hair is?
ROUGHRIDER16: It’s dark.
SIENNAM: I have something to confess.
ROUGHRIDER16: Lord, woman, we just made up ten seconds ago. Lol, let’s hear it.
SIENNAM: I thought about having my IT department figure out who you are.
SIENNAM: . . . ? Are you still there?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yeah, I’m here. You thought about it, but didn’t?
SIENNAM: No. It didn’t feel right.
ROUGHRIDER16: They wouldn’t have been able to find me anyway. I took precautions.
SIENNAM: That sounds ominous . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: It’s not. I just figured curiosity would get the better of you, so I got untraceable accounts.
SIENNAM: Nothing’s untraceable.
ROUGHRIDER16: True. But these would trace to someone other than me.
SIENNAM: You’re never going to tell me who you are, are you?
ROUGHRIDER16: Can’t we just enjoy what we have?
SIENNAM: Don’t you want more than this?
ROUGHRIDER16: Of course, but this is better than nothing.
SIENNAM: I’d love to hear your voice.
ROUGHRIDER16: Maybe at some point.
SIENNAM: Tell me something about you. Anything.
ROUGHRIDER16: I’m dog-sitting a friend’s German Shepherd for a week, and I don’t want to give him back. Best damn dog I’ve ever been around.
SIENNAM: What’s his name?
ROUGHRIDER16: Samson
SIENNAM: Do you have any pets?
ROUGHRIDER16: No, it wouldn’t be fair with my schedule. I want a dog someday, though.
SIENNAM: What are you wearing right now?
ROUGHRIDER16: khakis and a polo . . . you?
SIENNAM: black skirt and blue shirt
ROUGHRIDER16: a skirt . . . something to fantasize about all day . . .
SIENNAM: Skirts do it for you, huh?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yes, if you’re wearing them.
SIENNAM: What’s your favorite kind of ice cream?
ROUGHRIDER16: Strawberry. Yours?
SIENNAM: Cookies and cream.
ROUGHRIDER16: If you could go anywhere in the world for a vacation, where would you choose?
SIENNAM: Hmm . . . an island, I think. Somewhere with a beach and fruity drinks. You?
ROUGHRIDER16: I’d go anywhere with you. Antarctica. Siberia. Alcatraz . . . those all sound fun if you’d be there with me.
SIENNAM: Let’s stick with me choosing destinations . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: Deal. Hey, I have to do some work. I’ll msg later today.
SIENNAM: Okay.
ROUGHRIDER16: I meant what I said on the card.
SIENNAM: xoxo
I sign off the IM app and turn my attention to work. I’m making decent progress, but I can’t help looking at the flowers and card on my desk every now and then. Each time, I feel warm inside.
Is it crazy to be falling so hard for someone I don’t even know? Maybe, but I can’t help myself. Besides, I do know him. Like he said, we’ve met, I just don’t know which of my male acquaintances he is.
I realize I’ve got it bad when I walk to a nearby deli to pick up lunch, bringing the carryout order back to my office rather than eating there because I don’t want to miss RoughRider’s next message by being gone too long.
The independent, no-fucks-given woman I was a month ago is turning into a mushy mess over this guy. But for once, instead of considering all the potential pitfalls, I’m just enjoying it. It feels too good to do anything else.
It’s midafternoon by the time I get a new message from him, and my heart rate kicks up a notch when I do.
ROUGHRIDER16: Hey, how’s your day going?
SIENNAM: Good. Productive. How’s yours?
ROUGHRIDER16: It’s good. A little crazy, but good.
SIENNAM: Where did you say you work?
ROUGHRIDER16: I work in a building.
SIENNAM: Cute. *eyeroll*
ROUGHRIDER16: *wink*
SIENNAM: So I’m doing a phone interview this afternoon with a magazine reporter. I’m excited and a little nervous.
ROUGHRIDER16: That’s great. Don’t be nervous—you’ll be amazing.
SIENNAM: Thanks. I’m always nervous about interviews because some reporters make me sound like the madam of a sex ring or something.
ROUGHRIDER16: You? That made me lol . . .
SIENNAM: Google the one by a blogger named Marjorie McDonald. She has a huge following. Her article was supposed to be a tongue in cheek effort at me “harnessing” the unfilled needs of women, but her double entendre skills are lacking and she makes me out as a dominatrix with a bevy of whips, chains, and actual harnesses in my office. I was horrified.
ROUGHRIDER16: Wow. Yeah, that’s shitty, but look at you now. They say even the worst articles create buzz.
SIENNAM: True . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: I had a dream about you last night.
SIENNAM: Do tell . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: You were in my kitchen, wearing just a t-shirt and panties. I was kissing the back of your neck and sliding my hand under your shirt . . .
I arch my brows, eager to hear more, but before I can start typing a response to that last message, my office door is thrown open, and a woman with wild, dark curls walks through, glaring at me.
Jane must have stepped out. There’s nothing I hate like walk-ins, but I’ll have to handle it.
“Can I help you?” I ask shortly.
“It’s all your fault. You ruined everything.” Her tone is tearful and shaky, with an undercurrent of rage.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
She shakes her head. “I’m Bella Moore. Isaac and I would be together if it wasn’t for you and your stupid policies, you bitch.”
Shit. Isaac’s unbalanced stalker is in my office right now. I reach for my cell phone to call 9–1-1, but Bella lets out an anguished sound.
“Drop. It.” She pulls something from her bag, a flash of silver making my blood run cold.
It’s a gun, and a pretty big one at that. Suddenly my lax security policies have bitten me in the ass. I hired security for Isaac when this thing with Isabella Moore went down, but I should have locked down the entire office.
I set down the phone, sneaking a hand onto my computer keyboard to type a message to RoughRider.
SIENNAM: 911 my office
“Put your hands in the air!”
I obey, putting both my hands where she can see them. The crazed look in her eyes terrifies me. I’m not sure she has any awareness of action and consequence right now. She just sees me as the one keeping her from Isaac.
“I’m sorry, Bella.” I offer a contrite, gentle apology, though my heart is hammering. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Why did you do that? Why wouldn’t you let him be with me?”
“I guess . . . I just wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
She puts both hands on the gun, and it looks like she’s aiming.
“Please don’t,” I implore. “Let’s talk about this, okay? You seem like a really nice person.”
“I am a nice person. But you ruined everything! I might go to jail because of you!”
I glance over at my computer screen, scanning the IMs RoughRider responded with.
ROUGHRIDER16: What the hell? Are you okay???
ROUGHRIDER16: Sienna, answer, please. Are you okay?
ROUGHRIDER16: If you don’t respond within ten seconds, I’m calling 911. Please fucking respond.
ROUGHRIDER16: I just called 911 and your office. Say something, Sienna.
I see movement outside my office through the glass wall. My payroll clerk, Sandy, is staring at me, wide-eyed. She must be the one who got the call from RoughRider and came to check on me.
“What can I do to make this better?” I ask Bella, hoping to defuse this situation without anyone else being endangered.
She shakes her head and glares at me. “I don’t know! I can’t talk to Isaac anymore. Can you bring him in here so I can talk to him?”
Shit. I can’t put Isaac in that situation, but I don’t want to upset Bella further.
“I would, but I don’t think he’s here right now.”
“Why not? He always works at this time on Tuesdays.”
Her stalking game is strong. I’ll just have to bluff my way through this.
“He said he had an appointment out of the office this afternoon. I think he’s getting a tattoo.”
“Really? Of what? Did he say what?”
“Someone’s name, I think?”
Bella breaks into a smile. “My name?”
“Might have been.”
“I knew he had feelings for me. I knew it.”
I try to smile at her, hoping it doesn’t come off as terrified as I feel right now. When I look back out the glass wall of my office, Sandra is gone. Suddenly, a uniformed CPD officer shows himself to me, then dodges back out of sight immediately. Bella didn’t see him because her back is to the glass wall and door.
“I want to know everything about him.” She nods, liking her new idea. “Do you have a file for him? With pictures and information? I want to see it.”
“I’ll show it to you, but it’s not in my office. It’s in Human Resources.”
She considers, looking at the office door. “Okay, take me there.”
Bella puts me in front of her, holding on to a handful of my shirt and shoving the barrel of the gun against my back. We’ve just made it out the door when she’s shoved away from me. I trip forward, landing in the arms of an officer in tactical gear, who sweeps me away as Bella is tackled and disarmed.
The officer takes me to the break room, where I sit down. That’s when I start shaking, the terror of the situation finally safe to fully feel. I cry a little and drink some water. Once Bella has been taken away, I go out to the main lobby area of the office to answer questions for the officers there. They’ve only gotten one question out when Coop comes flying through the elevator doors the moment they open.
“Sienna, thank God.” He wraps me in a huge hug, exhaling deeply. “I heard the call come over the radio, and I got here as soon as I could.”
I hug him back, his embrace comforting me. “I’m okay, Coop.”
Coop’s best friend Ryan races up behind him, his whole expression falling with relief when he sees I’m okay.
“You called Ryan?” I give Coop an admonishing look. “That was kind of overkill. I don’t need both my big brothers running to my rescue.”
Coop furrows his brow and looks at Ryan. “No, I didn’t call him. What are you doing here, man? How’d you know?”
Ryan’s dark brown eyes are on me, swimming with emotions: apology, relief, fear, and something so intense it takes my breath away.
When it hits me, it hits hard. Ryan knew what was going on without Coop calling him because it was me who told him. He was the one who called 9–1-1. The one frantically asking me if I was okay. The one who sent me the flowers. The one who said I mean everything to him.
“No.” My lips part with shock and disbelief. “I can’t . . . Ryan . . . it’s you? You’re RoughRider?”