I’ve barely gone a block before my phone vibrates with a text alert. I pull it from my pocket, expecting something from Andre, but then I stop dead.
Unknown:I was starting to think you’d never leave that fucking hotel.
I spin to look behind me, but all I get is people cursing because I’m disrupting the flow of pedestrian traffic. Someone bumps my elbow. I almost drop my phone but manage to clutch it. It vibrates in my hand. I force my way through the crowd to huddle against a building.
Hands shaking, I read the new message.Careful, baby. This city is dangerous. Especially for someone so pretty.
Oh my god. He really is stalking me. He was waiting outside The Axis. He’s watching meright now. I look around again, but it’s lunchtime and there’s a sea of people.
Another message comes through.Stop looking for me. If you saw me, I’d have to kill you, and I don’t want to do that.
My scalp prickles. He doesn’t mean that, does he? That’s just part of the fantasy, right?
Unknown:Get moving. Pretend I’m not here.
I do what he says. The first part anyway. The second part, pretending he’s not there, is, of course, impossible.
I navigate to the Mexican restaurant. I go inside and collect the food that Andre has paid for, then I walk back to The Axis. I don’t get another message. I keep checking my phone, but he’s gone.
I make the long trek through the hotel to Andre’s office. He’s sitting at his desk—and a black box with a purple ribbon is sitting at mine.
“What, uh, what’s that?” I ask.
Andre’s eyes flick up to me as I approach. “A courier delivered it while you were gone. Is it your birthday?”
“Um, no. It’s, um … I don’t know what that is.”
Andre comes to join me at the work/dining table by the bookcases. I set out the takeaway boxes, so plain and predictable compared to the box on my desk.
“Are you going to open your present?” Andre asks as we settle to our meal.
“No,” I tell him. “I’ll wait.”
He doesn’t press the point, thank god, and I spend the rest of the day with the box wedged between my feet under my desk.
By the time I get to my apartment in the evening, I feel like a hunted animal. When ForbiddenX contacted me last night for my updated home address, I gave it to them, yes, but my stalker shouldn’t know that I work for Andre specifically. And yet, he had a box—thisbox—deliveredto Andre’s office. And it sat between my feet all day, reminding me of that fact.
I jump when my phone starts vibrating. I set the box on the kitchen counter and get out my phone.
It’s a call, not a text—and it’shim.
My heart leaps into my throat. I didn’t expect him tocallme. I don’t know how to talk to him. I can’t!
I don’t answer. The call goes to voicemail, but he doesn’t leave a message. A text comes through.
Unknown:Answer my call, or I’ll be at your door.
Canhe get to my door? Would he really do that?
My phone rings again, but I still don’t answer. I get another text:You think I can’t get into that hotel? Into your room? I can get to you ANYWHERE, Elias. Now answer your fucking phone.
Jesus Christ.
It starts ringing again. This time, I hit accept. I bring the phone shakily to my ear, but I’m not able to say anything.
“When I tell you to do something, you do it.” He’s speaking through the voice modulator, harsh and cold and dangerous. “Have you opened the box?”
“N-no.”
