This isn’t the way my life is supposed to go. I’m supposed to finish business school, then take over some of the family businesses so Skyla can spend more of her time in Vermont with Joshua. And then I don’t know what comes next, but it sure as hell isn’t getting stalked by some psycho.
Haven kneels and digs around in my closet until she finds a pair of boots. “Here. Wear these too. They make your ass look great, and you can stomp in eyeballs with them.”
I laugh and get up, heading for the shower. “I’m going to go get cleaned up. Maybe you should pick the bra and thong I wear just in case your plan to get me laid works.”
“That’s the spirit!”
I shouldn’t be here right now.I should be at Aiden’s house, begging him not to put me on lockdown or kill the security team he’s had following me.
I don’t even know how the hell the stalker has managed to slip through them.
Not that it matters right now.
I’m sitting in the middle of a café, staring at the coffee in front of me, wondering if this is a bad idea.
Actually, I don’t need to wonder. Iknowit’s a bad idea. I should’ve spent time at home, figuring out what to do before I told Aiden.
A handsome man with sandy blond hair slows down beside the table. I look up at him and smile. He looks at me for a moment longer before continuing on to a table in the corner and sitting down with a woman.
I suck in a sharp breath and blow it out.
Well, that was embarrassing.
Maybe Jameson is going to stand me up.
I was stupid to think that some guy from a chatroom was going to want to meet me. Especially when I’ve been sending my pictures to him constantly.
Nope. I look good in those pictures, and I’m not going to regret it. Not even a little. I’m not going to have this body forever.
I take a sip of my coffee for the first time since I sat down, hoping that it might do something to calm the nerves. The butterflies are tossing and turning in my stomach, but they feel like they’re at war with the constant feeling of being watched.
Except, there’s nobody staring at me. Nobody is paying attention to me or anything I’m doing.
I’m free. I’m a normal person in a city with millions of people. The chances of my stalker knowing where I am are low. It’s a large city. I’ve checked for trackers.
I’ve told myself those things over and over again, but nothing settles my stomach.
If anything, I feel worse. The room starts spinning around me, and there’s this pounding in my head.
Taking another sip of the coffee, I lean back in my seat, looking up at the gold chandeliers hanging over the tables.
The lights on them start to spin in circles before they dance, bouncing across my vision like little balls.
I should cancel the date.
It’s clear I’m not feeling well. I put the back of my hand to my head.
Though it feels warm, I don’t think it’s any worse than it normally is. But something still doesn’t feel right.
As I pull out my phone to send a message to Jameson, the ground slips away from my feet.
There’sa tiny man with a jackhammer in my head. There has to be. It’s the only reason my brain would be pounding against my skull the way it is.
Groaning, I try to sit up, hoping that once I get my eyes open and my ass out of bed, I’ll be able to go on with my day.
Except, when I open my eyes, I’m not in my bedroom. I’m somewhere I’ve never been before, and there’s plastic all over the walls.
And knives on the counter.
