I wasn’t sure how he knew I’d been fucking Van on the side, but the way Alic’s eyes tracked him whenever he was in the roomwas a dead giveaway. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly… more like silent judgment wrapped in protective instinct.
Desperate for a distraction, I focused on the new email instead of his questions since I knew they’d just cause us to fight again.
No sender.
The subject line read: To My Flower with Bloody Thorns.
I clicked.
Only a few lines were inside, but they chilled me to the bone:
You’re glorious in all that you do. I can’t help but bask in your luminous glow, wishing I could show you how much I’ve missed you. I hope your time on level thirteen was satisfactory tonight.
Love,
Your secret admirer.
What the fuck?
Apparently, I said that out loud because Alic was at my shoulder in a flash.
“Hey!” I yelped as he snatched the mouse from my hand. Within a second, he was clicking around and typing furiously, trying to trace the source. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to find anything, but still, I let him try.
My eyes drifted toward the corner of my desk. The rose. The bright pink one that had shown up earlier with a note whose tone closely resembled the email.
Could it be…
“Aniyah, do you have any?—”
He stopped. His gaze shifted from me to the rose, and just like that, every muscle in his body locked tight.
Oh, no.
“Aniyah.” He said my name low and slow, letting every syllable drag like a warning. “Where did that flower come from?”
I didn’t want to tell him. He’d blow it way out of proportion, dragging this out into something messy, and I was already juggling too many messes as it was. This was probably nothing.Right?
Judging by the look on Alic’s face, stone-cold serious with a deadly glint in his eyes, it wasdefinitelynot okay. But, then again, Alic had a knack for making everything difficult.
“It’s nothing,” I said with a shrug. “Just another harmless admirer. See?” I pointed at the screen. “They even signed it‘secret admirer.’I mean…” I trailed off when his frown deepened, cutting into his face like a blade.
Without a word, he shot up and stomped around the desk, snatching the rose off the corner. He examined it in silence, each movement slow and calculated, like an angry tiger stalking prey. Coiled, on edge, waiting to pounce.
And what do you do with a tiger ready to explode? You poke it, get the explosion over with, and move on.
“I don’t know what you’re freaking out about,” I said, trying to keep my tone breezy. “It’s not that serious. They seem harmless.”
I reached for the flower, but he yanked it away, his glare sharp enough to draw blood.
“I think you’re overreacting.”
“Where did you find this?” he asked, his voice going cold, his face morphing back into that unreadable wall he always wore when he was ready to shut me out.
I rolled my eyes and pointed toward the bookcase where I’d originally found the flower and note.
He surged up and sped over to it, scanning the area like a detective with a murder case. “Was there anything else with it?” he asked without looking at me.
I hesitated.
