There’s a waiter smoking in the alley behind the restaurant, so I hover near the parking lot as I pull out my phone.
My heart is already beating wildly, and I swear I’m going to choke if I don’t see Luke soon.
I quickly unlock my phone, going straight to my home security camera app.
It gives me a choice of ten boxes. There are at least sixty-five cameras on my property, but I’ve starred these rooms so they appear on the home screen.
I told Luke the system was off, and even glancing at them is such a breach of his privacy that it’s sick.
He’s spent the whole time blissfully unaware that I’ve turned into the creepy boss from hell. I’m worse than those hotels that put cameras behind pictures, or landlords who sneak into their tenants’ apartments when they’re gone.
Every time I open the app, a hard stab of guilt hits me, and the only thing that soothes it is Luke.
I quickly flick through the screens, growing anxious as I can’t find him in any of the main rooms of my house.
Until I click back to the kitchen camera that points directly at the stove, and I sigh with relief as he walks into view.
I’m like a junkie who needs my Luke fix at least twice a day.
In the first days after we left, I tracked him obsessively, trying to work out what he was planning. Why would an omega sneak into my house unless he wanted something from me? Whenever I was free, I’d watch him like a hawk through the security system to figure it out. I kept telling myself every morning that he had one more strike. He just needs to do one little thing to make me not trust him.
I sigh, because it’s the same lie I told myself repeatedly with my ex-wife.
Just one more chance. I’ll give her one more opportunity to come clean. She must have a reason. She wouldn’t do this to me when I feel this way about her.
Even though everything I’ve seen of Luke says that he’s a normal guy who likes band T-shirts and teasing me, with no ulterior motives.
I’ve discovered things about Luke that I’m pretty sure I would never see unless I became his real alpha.
Like now, watching him in the kitchen in cut-offs and a loose T-shirt dancing around the kitchen. There’s no sound in the videos, but I saw him fiddle with a speaker before he started cooking, and now he’s singing his heart out.
The smile I have on my face as I watch him is so fucking stupid that I feel like the biggest perv in the world.
I’m only doing it to keep him in check. Because it’s when I let my guard down that he’ll strike. My ex-wife wore me out over years, but who knows how long it will take for Luke to slip up so I can capture his true colors?
That’s why I need to be on my phone every day, even in the middle of a conversation with my manager.
“Who the fuck am I kidding?” I growl as I run a hand over my fresh buzzcut.
Because I’m not watching him to see if he’s stealing my stuff to sell online or snapping pictures or taking advantage of me.
I just want to see him.
After all my huffing and puffing, I’ve been desperate to see him since I left, because I know it’s so right for him to be in my home. When the notification for the doorbell or the garage goes off, and he’s out, I get this jumpy, jittery feeling that I chalk down to being convinced that he’s off doing something nefarious.
Because it’s there, beating around inside me like a fucking steady drum.
I’m checking onmyomega. I’m making suremyomega is safe.
Those are the thoughts I need to get a million miles away from. Which is why I have to make sure he does something that proves all my paranoia and anxiety is justified.
It doesn’t matter how fucked up I act. He’s the one who put slick in my oatmeal. He’s the one who snuck into my bed and scent marked the shit out of it. I didn’t start this, he did.
I’ve changed the camera in my bedroom to film constantly since I found maple syrup in my bed. And I’ve still been going fucking mental.
The team is heading back to Nashville soon, so I didn’t need to look, but I can’t resist it. I’ve avoided calling him since we left because I don’t know if I can handle hearing his voice. I don’t want to give in and let myself be weak. But seeing him singing and dancing like this is too much.
I keep the camera app up on my screen as I call him, and I press my lips together, wondering if he’ll reject the call. He has no reason to answer, and it would be proof that he doesn’t likeme back. Then I can kick him out of my house when we return, and I can pretend all of this craziness didn’t happen.
