CHAPTER TWELVE
The rest of the day sailed by smoothly. Donovan neither messaged nor exited his office, but still his silent presence behind his door made me feel better about the danger that lurked outside the safety of Stone Industries. It was a few minutes to five and already my stomach was tying itself in knots, dread sliding down my throat to lodge itself in my chest and pulse with each passing second I had left before I had to navigate the city sidewalks back to my car.
Packing my things, I was shutting down my computer just as Donovan stepped out. Thinking he needed one last thing before I left, I turned toward him. He didn’t look in my direction. Instead, he walked to the half wall, flipped the main lights off and returned to his office beneath the glow of the orange security lights. I was beginning to believe that turning off the lights was his way of telling me it was time to go home.
Shaking my head, I ignored his games. They were nothing compared to the other game I was playing, the one that held me in its terrifying grasp during the hours I wasn’t under Donovan’s control.
My legs shook as I made my way through the lobby and out the door, as I descended the three flights of stairs and stood just inside the main glass doors staring out into the half empty streets. I hated this side of town only because it felt so empty, left me feeling far too exposed to whoever was watching from shadowed corners.
The last thing I wanted to do was walk out there, but having no choice, I pushed the door open and ran to my car, ignoring the way my ankles protested to be running in heels. Making a mental note to bring sneakers with me in the future just for these mad dashes between buildings and my car, I didn’t breathe easy until I was home again and I was done locking the deadbolts and sliding the chain into place over the door.
Relief withered my shoulders, my back sliding down the door until my butt was settled on the floor. Stretching my legs out in front of me, I noticed the few pieces of mail that had been slipped through the slot. They were probably bills, the very things that got me in trouble in the first place with my choice to join Dark Realities.
Pushing myself to my feet after cursing those bills for several seconds, I didn’t bother picking them up before scrambling to my bedroom to get changed. Everything was exactly as I left it. The rose and note still lay on the ground beside my bed, the sheet used to cover the mirror still in place.
Tremors ran over me after I’d changed into my pajamas and stood over the rose and note, the black lettering staring up at me with the message that I’d ignored whoever it was that watched me while I slept.
Shaking off the fear that came with the reminder I wasn’t alone, I made my way into the living room, sat down at my makeshift desk, and turned on my computer. It was still booting as I picked up my phone to dial Rachel’s number.
“Hey, Mia,” she answered, her breath ragged like she was in the middle of a brisk jog when the phone rang. “I haven’t talked to you in a few days. How’s the new job?”
“It’s good,” I lied, the words I’d planned to speak next dying off as my computer pinged with a new email. Absently, I clicked over, my eyes scanning down to see the email I’d received yesterday but hadn’t opened. My eyes rounded, the arrow hovering over the unopened message as I grew quiet.
“Mia? Hello? You still there?”
“Yeah,” I breathed out, my voice shaky over that one word as I did the insane thing and opened the email.
I don’t like it when you talk to other men. Don’t you know you’re mine now?
My eyes widened so large that the air conditioning had an opportunity to rush in and dry them. Blinking to entice my tear ducts to come back to life, I read the two sentences over and over again as fear bloomed in my stomach.
“Mia?”
Shaking my head, it took everything I had not to sound as afraid as I felt. “Sorry, Rachel. I’m just ... distracted. Work’s fine. My boss is an asshole, but -“
“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”
“No,” I admitted, my gaze returning to the email. Is this what he’d meant by ignoring him? This email that I’d failed to open and respond to? Not wanting another midnight visit, my hands hovered over the keys to type out a response. “I’m sorry. Like I said, I’ve been distracted. What did you say?”
Sighing, Rachel shifted around, the rustle of fabric against the phone drawing my attention. “I asked if you want to meet me for dinner tonight. There’s a new restaurant downtown and the reviews are touting it as the next big thing. I can call and get us a reservation.”
I’m not yours, I typed. And I don’t want to play this game. Please leave me alone.
Hitting send, I hoped that would be the end of it, but knew my hope was about as useful as a bucket with a hole in it.
Dinner with Rachel sounded wonderful, however, stepping back outside my apartment didn’t. What man was he talking about? The only men I’d been around were Donovan and Jackson. My eyes rounded a third time. Jackson. The stalker must have seen us go to lunch, which meant -
My computer pinged. I couldn’t click the email fast enough. The game ends when I’m done playing. Or have you not read the rules?
“Mia! What is going on with you right now? You keep spacing out.”
Yanked back into the phone conversation, I cleared my throat and apologized. “Sorry. I was just responding to an email.”
“An email?” I heard Rachel tsk through the phone. “Are you telling me that your boss already has you working after hours? I hope he’s paying you for that.”
Shaking my head, I realized she couldn’t see me, so I voiced my response instead. “No, it’s not for work. There’s a strict no overtime policy at my new job. This email was personal.”
Rachel’s breath caught. “Personal? Have you met a new guy or something? Oh, Mia! Tell me about him!”
If by new guy she meant a complete stranger who was having way too much fun messing with my life, then sure, I’d met a new guy. The only thing was that she would never learn about him. Not until I’d found a way to back out of this stupid game.
My fingers flew over the keys. I read the rules. And I tried to contact Dark Realities to get out of the game. Do you know what happened to the site? I thought I was supposed to be able to watch.
It was improbable that my stalker would assist me in contacting Dark Realities to quit the game, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try. Being a predator for the site must have given him more access to the company than I had. Hitting send, I finally answered my best friend.
“I haven’t met a new man. I’m just trying to catch up with stuff now that I have a new job. Past due bills and all. You know how it is.”
I could hear her disappointment through the phone. “Oh. Well, that’s too bad. I was getting excited for a second.” She paused for a moment before blurting her next question. “So, what about dinner? I can meet you at seven.”
My computer pinged before I could answer the question. Why would you think I’d help you? You asked for this, Mia. It’s too late to back out now.
I felt my face flare red with anger, my pulse kicking up just enough that it was a flutter at my temples. I didn’t understand the rules when I signed up.
But you accepted the money, didn’t you?
“That’s it, Mia. You are obviously too distracted for this phone call. Why don’t you call me back when you’re done with your emails? We can meet for dinner another night.”
“What?” I asked, just before understanding settled in. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I’ll call you back later. I just need to deal with some things.”
I didn’t bother to wait for her response before ending the call. Dropping my phone on the desk, I pounded out another email.
I had no choice but to accept the money. And I want to return it. I don’t want to play this game anymore. You were in my apartment last night! That’s creepy and I didn’t realize that would happen. How was I supposed to know?
Expecting a rushed response like last time, I grew impatient when the computer didn’t immediately ping. I had no doubt he was laughing at me from wherever he was...whoever he was. How had I been so stupid? What could I do to correct this ridiculous mistake?
After drumming my fingers over the surface of the desk, I finally pushed to my feet with the need to expel energy. Pacing the cramped space of my living room, I kept glaring back at my computer as I passed it, practically jumping out of my skin when it finally pinged with a response. My chair almost tipped backwards from how quickly I dropped my weight in the seat, my hand fumbling with the mouse before I calmed down enough to click the button.
I’m not sure what to think of you, Mia. You signed up for a stalker fantasy, keyword being STALKER, and now you’re upset you’re being stalked. I’m laughing. I want you to know that.
Damn it. He was right, but I didn’t want to admit that to myself, much less him. Refusing to engage him any longer on that topic, I asked, What’s your name? If you know mine, I should at least know yours.
It took three minutes for him to respond - three minutes that felt like three days.
Does a person ever know the name of the shadow that follows them? Who hurt you, Mia?
My brows shot up my head so far, I was concerned they’d become permanently lost in my hairline. What kind of crazy question is that? Nobody hurt me. Just go away.
My fingers drummed as I waited, the tips of my nails being shaved down from the abuse. Finally, when I thought I would scream and chuck the computer out a window, it pinged with his response.
You can learn a lot by watching a person sleep. And what I learned is that you’re haunted by something. Maybe eventually you’ll tell me what that is. Good night, Mia. I hope you sleep well.
Oh, no he didn’t. My face must have been purple by that point. I would have to invest in a new keyboard by the time I was done typing my responses to him.
You know nothing. Not a single damn thing. Stop being a creeper and stay the hell OUT of my apartment. I’ll call the cops next time! I’ll install cameras. I’ll sleep with a damn gun if I have to. Just stay away!
Expecting an immediate response, even one where he told me he was laughing again, I was surprised to find myself staring at an unchanging screen ten minutes later. It seemed he would begin and end the conversations at his discretion. He would watch. He would wait. And all I could do about it was run through whatever maze he’d constructed for this game.
I’ll admit my father had made me a victim for many years of my life. He’d made me mousy with his constant jabs, made me fear my own shadow because I always thought it was him standing behind me to judge every decision I made, but I was tired of being that person.
So tired, in fact, that I refused to continue playing victim to this game. To this predator. To a life that was beating me down as fast as it possible could, with no ending to the abuse in sight.
Turning off my computer, I gave up on getting a response. My stomach rumbled with hunger and I needed a shower after not having time for one that morning. I checked the locks on my door before heading back to my bedroom, and I made plans to add a few more deadbolts, possibly another chain, and perhaps a camera or two outside the door just to find out who my mysterious stalker was.