Ryan

 

 

 

I can't catch a fucking break. I needed to get away from her. The way she looked at me was killing me. Those vibrant eyes, their emerald green color sparkling with desire, joy, and trust as she confided in me. She trusts me, she may even be about to fall in love with me.

And all I know to do to stop her from that is to treat her like this. Leave her, alone and confused, filled with unanswered questions, before my hunger drives me straight back to her. I know I won't last long because I'm still craving her as if I've never had her. Like the fucking addict I am.

Everything is falling apart around me, things growing worse by the minute. I step into my office, frantically running my fingers through my hair. I‘m greeted by chaos – piles of papers and notes, the blinking light on my phone indicating waiting messages, my open laptop, my cell phone – all just other reminders of my failed nature.

I know there are calls, texts, and e-mails waiting for me. I know that even a two-day absence can unleash chaos if you're a man like me, a man with responsibilities, a man whose company is in the middle of wrapping up negotiations for its biggest acquisition ever.

A man with an addiction.

Lemon is entitled to freak out in a case like this. He has clear instructions of what to do if and when it happens – and I was the one who gave him those instructions.

He's doing everything he's supposed to do, but I was smart – or dumb – enough to include a loophole for myself. There's a reason why Lemon doesn't have this address. I told myself that it was about privacy because this is the place where I bring my girls every year. This is where I make room for that obsessive monster that lives within me. This is where I let it roam freely, living out its dark fantasies that have haunted me most of my life. It was all about creating a way to deal with it in what I hoped was a sane and safe setting for everyone involved.

But I still am the one holding the power to throw everything into disarray, and that's just what I did by inviting Laura inside my home.

I step into my office, pacing back and forth with my hands raised to the sides of my head in a mock effort to stop my insanity from taking over, to keep the monster from escaping.

"Fuck!" I yell, knowing that no one can hear me. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

I glance at my phone, my eyes blinking frantically, as if that could make the blinking light go away. That damn blinking light, telling me there are missed calls and texts, trying to bring my attention back to the real world.

I can't deal with any of it right now, and my instinct tells me to completely ignore it, run back to her, fuck her, keep her in my arms, take in her scent as I sleep next to her.

Yes, this is all I want, all I need. I shouldn't even look at that damn phone.

But I still do. I can't stop myself from grabbing my cell phone and turning on the screen. As expected, I'm bombarded with missed calls and texts, most of them coming from Lemon. They start off innocently enough.

"I hope you remember our meeting with the guys today at noon," is the first message I read.

He wrote that one on the day I returned from California. Two days ago.

"Where are you?" reads the next message, sent just a few minutes before the scheduled meeting. Then he tried to call me a few times. The calls stop for about an hour shortly after noon. I know that's when he had to explain my absence to everyone, coming up with God knows what excuses to tell them about why I didn't show up for one of the most important meetings I've ever had in my life.

The messages become more aggressive after that.

"Where the fuck ARE you?!"

"FUCK, Ryan! I'm going to come over now."

A few more calls follow after that. The next few texts let me know that he tried to reach me at my penthouse address, the only one he knows. He threatens to break in the door, but I know that legally he can‘t. His threats remain empty.

I throw my phone down. My heart is racing, hammering against the cold clasp tightening around my chest, and I'm overwhelmed with guilt, anxiety, and premonition. It's always the same. Dark shadows are closing in on me, their horrid darkness filled with shrieking beasts, lost hope, and the terror of loss and failure.

I should let her go, kick her out of my life, free her from me before she falls in love with me. But it might be too late for that. And I know that I'd only fall even deeper into the deep, dark abyss surrounding me without her.

I can't let her go, ever. Even now the pain of being apart from her is stronger than the fear of having to face her questions.

She's beginning to suspect things. She knows that our time is up and I'm no longer playing by the rules of the game.

There's no safe place for me, neither here nor with her, but I'd much rather face the trouble that awaits me downstairs than having to deal with this.

I'm pulled out of my horrid stream of thoughts when a shrill, merciless sound screeches through the room.

My phone is ringing.

I stare at it for a second before I let the piercing sound chase me out of the room.

Laura. I have to feed her.

Yes, that's what I need to do. It's been more than half a day since she's had her last proper meal. She must be starving.

I must feed my beautiful doll.