“I would love to. You know, get to know you a little better but not in such a crowded place.” I subtly look around and realize that was stupid to say because it’s a nice steakhouse. It’s not overly crowded or obnoxiously loud. I’m really bad at this covert work, and I hope I don’t fuck this whole plan up.
“Let me just grab the check.” He makes a big show of pulling out his wallet and flagging down our waiter. I watch once he gets his card back and see him barely leave a ten percent tip.What a fucking asshole.
“Let's go,” he snips as he shoves his chair back. His abrupt change in tone starts my heart racing. Adrenaline floods my veins, and I try to use Arlo’s breathing technique to calm myself down. This was only the firststep, the easiest step, and now I need to be the badass I always claim to be.
I start walking to my truck, but he pulls me in the opposite direction.
“Where are you going?” he sneers.
“To my truck? I was just going to follow you.”
“I’ll drive, and then when you want to go home, I’ll drop you off back here or you can just grab a ride share.” He doesn’t leave me any options, and I have a feeling if I push this issue, he’ll give up and I’ll lose the chance to end this.
“Sure, sounds great.”
The drive to his house is a mix of not shoving his hand off my thigh, as well as listening to him brag about all the jobs he’s gotten recently. He name-drops some big animation companies, and I roll my lips together to stop myself from saying something sarcastic and ruining this whole thing.
We pull up to a fairly standard house for the area, in a nice neighborhood, and it just confuses me more. He brags about all his money and flashes expensive shit around like it’s his job, yet this is the most average house on the block.
“I wasn’t expecting you to want to come here, so excuse the mess,” he says before he climbs out of his car and heads to the front door.
Well, in this case, chivalry is well and truly dead, I guess. Not that I’m surprised.
I shove my way out of his car and walk to catch up to him as he opens the front door.
The inside is like eighties floral threw up on all the textiles. The mash of patterns is nauseating and puzzling. It’s nothing like I picturedwhen thinking about the pretentiousness that’s Tyler. I expected a classic bachelor pad, all steel and leather.
“It’s nice,” I say cautiously.
“I’m in the process of remodeling. It was my mother’s house, and it is desperately in need of a change.”
“I see.” I’m not sure how I’m supposed to respond, so I keep it neutral.
“Do you want a tour?”
Yes!I scream internally. “Sure.” I keep my tone interested but calm.
He walks me through the main area, points out the obvious spaces, like the kitchen and dining room, before heading down a dark hallway. It’s eerie, and I’m waiting for the jump scare. This is how all scary movies go, so I figure it’s just a matter of time before I get hit with one.
“Spare bedroom, bathroom, office…” He trails off as we reach his office and starts to shut the door, which I find odd.
What I catch a glimpse of inside changes everything. My breath catches, and the blood drains from my face before I remember I need to continue the charade. Just seeing a wall covered with pictures of me, as well as other women, isn’t proof. It will be once they execute the warrant, but I don’t think it’s strong enough. It doesn’t prove anything other than him being obsessed. I need something to nail his ass, to ensure he ends up in jail and doesn’t get to leave.
I clear my throat. “It’s a very spacious house. No wonder you wanted to keep it.”
He snorts. “I’d tear down the whole damn thing if I could, but free housing is free housing.”
I nod, unsure of what to do next.
“And this is my bedroom.” He walks into the room at the very end of the hall, and I reluctantly follow him. The smarmy look on his face makesmy skin crawl, and with sudden clarity, I realize I’m all alone in his room with no clear way out if things go south.
Terror. Anxiety. Regret. All of them hit my square in the chest, and I wonder why I was so fucking stubborn and thought this was a good idea.
I look around aimlessly and slowly start moving my hand into my purse. Maybe if I can grab my phone, I can send an S.O.S. text to Arlo.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Tyler’s voice halts my movements. “You wanted to come here; I thought this was what you wanted.” The way he says it isn’t friendly or understanding, it’s sinister and full of anger.
“I-I—”
