"And that's okay. You should. You barely know me. I drugged you to keep you calm after you woke up the last time. I've beenstalking you for six months. I killed your ex-boyfriend. Your auction was fake, all the auctions are fake. It's a service I provide to men like me around the world."
Men likehim?
I drugged you.
I killed your ex boyfriend.
I'm stalking you.
He says all this so calmly. Like he's listing groceries instead of felonies.
"So I'm going to leave you alone."
What?
"I'm going to give you space. Time. Whatever you need. The money's in your account—you can check. You don't owe me anything, Scarletta. The contract's fulfilled. You earned every penny."
I pause the video. Because I don't know what I'm feeling right now. What the fuck am I feeling right now?
Did I have a good time?
Well. I'm alive. That's something. He didn't kill me. He could have. He killed Derek. Cut off his fingers. Mutilated him. Burned the body.
But he didn't kill me.
He fucked me unconscious, drugged me, and then hetucked me in.
I liked it.
I liked it.
I shouldn't have liked it. Normal girls don't like that. Normal girls don't get off on being bought, and used, and drugged, and discarded.
"There are cameras in your apartment, Scarletta."
I blow out a breath, completely overwhelmed.
"I left a document on your lap top called my_eyes.docx. It's saved to your desktop. It shows where they all are and how to turn them off via the app I use to spy on you."
This is so fucked up.
"There's another doc called her_thoughts.docx on the desktop," he says. "It's got the log in details for the keystroke recording hack I used to spy on your writing. I've left instructions on how to turn it off." He smiles at me. Or… the camera, whatever. "It was fun. I'm glad you got what you needed. Thank you for giving me what I needed back. As I said, the money's in your account. I hope you have an amazing life."
Then… he reaches forward and stops the recording.
And that's it, I guess.
It's over.
