His jaw worked back and forth, the muscle there jumping beneath his skin. His fingers tightened around mine, almost painful in their intensity. “Why didn't you tell me about the notes?”
The question sucked the air from the room. Yanking my hands from his grasp, I took an instinctive step backward. “How do you know about that?”
“Another one came this morning. After you left.” His voice was eerily controlled, so completely at odds with the wild look in his eyes. “A dead rose, Cecelia. Covered in what looked like blood.”
Ice slid down my spine. “It's not blood,” I said automatically. “It's paint. He's done that before.”
“He?” Rafe closed the distance I'd put between us. “So you know who's sending them?”
“No, I just…” I broke off, wrapping my arms around myself. “Did you read it? The note?”
His expression darkened further, if that was even possible. “How long has this been happening? And why the fuck didn't you tell me about it?”
The anger in his voice sparked my own. “Maybe because the last time someone left me a note at your place, you accused me of sleeping around? Remember that, Rafe? The way you assumed I was some lying cheat the moment something suspicious appeared?”
He visibly winced, that perfect jaw of his clenching tighter for a moment before his expression softened fractionally. “That was different.”
“Was it?” Refusing to back down, I held his gaze. “Because from where I'm standing, it feels a lot like you jumping to conclusions before hearing me out.”
“Cecelia.” The way he said my name told me he was restraining himself. “How long?”
Feeling weary, I sighed. “It started after I performed with my previous dance company.”
“And you didn't think this was something I should know?” The hurt beneath his anger surprised me. “That someone is obsessed enough with you to track our movements and leave threatening messages?”
“They haven't all been threatening,” I said, then immediately regretted it when his eyes narrowed dangerously.
“How many, Cecelia?”
“I don't know. A dozen? Maybe more. At first, they were just... admiring. Notes about my performances, flowers left at the stage door. Normal fan stuff.” I clenched and unclenched my fingers. “Then they started showing up at my apartment. Became more... possessive.”
“And you went to the police?”
“Of course I did.” I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice. “They said there wasn't much they could do. He hadn't actually done anything, hadn't made any explicit threats. There were no fingerprints, no way to prove who was sending them.”
Rafe raked a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Fucking shit, Cecelia.”
“It died down for a while,” I continued. “After I stopped performing professionally. I thought maybe he'd lost interest when I wasn't on stage anymore.”
“Until now.” Rafe's voice was flat.
“I didn't think it was a big deal,” I said, though the excuse sounded weak even to my ears. “I figured it was just...”
“Just what?” Rafe demanded. “Just someone who knows where we live, where you work, what we do? Just someone who watched us go into a private sex club together?”
My head snapped up at that. “He knows about the club? Was that in the note? The one that came today?”
Instead of answering, Rafe closed the distance between us in three long strides. Before I could react, his arms were around me and he pulled me tight against his chest. The sudden warmth of him, the solid wall of muscle and the faint scent that expensive cologne he always wore, surrounded me completely. One of his hands cradled the back of my head, the other wrapped around my waist, holding me as if he could physically shield me from whatever threat lurked outside.
“We'll figure this out,” he murmured against my hair. “But I'm calling Mac.”
“The detective?” I pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Rafe, the police already said—”
“Mac isn't like other cops.” The certainty in his voice left no room for argument. “In the meantime, you don't go anywhere alone. Not to teach, not to the grocery store, nowhere.”
I stiffened in his arms and pushed against his chest, creating space between us. “I'm not going to stop living my life because some creep doesn't understand boundaries.”
Rafe's eyes darkened. “Your stubbornness and independence can be incredibly sexy, Cecelia, but I need you to hear me on this.”
