She swallows hard, but she doesn’t break from my gaze.
That’s my brave Karolina.
“Sit,” I command, gesturing at the chair across from my desk.
Her shoulders stiffen, but she complies. She doesn’t like being bossed around, but she’s flustered enough by the shocking turn of events that she doesn’t sass me.
I round my desk and settle into my chair. I place her phone between us so that she has no choice but to acknowledge the “stalker’s” message.
“Who sent this?” I ask, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
It’s too soon to act possessive and fiercely protective, even if that’s how I always feel about her.
Besides, I know there’s not a real threat.I’mher stalker, and I would never harm Karolina.
Her light green eyes flick to the phone and back to me. Her cheeks are too pale, but she’s not on the verge of tears. She’s stronger than that.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “There aren’t any contact details.”
I lean forward, pinning her with an incisive stare. “Have you received any messages like this before?”
“No.”
She’s being cagey.
That’s okay. I can handle her reticence. She thinks she doesn’t know me. She can’t trust me yet.
“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” I say, keeping my practiced English accent smooth and cultured.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
I lift my brows. “Are you planning to go to the police?”
That would complicate my plans for her, but before I can worry about a potential investigation, she replies, “No.”
I tap the phone. “You have a stalker, Lena. This isn’t something to be ignored.”
She’s brave, but surely, she has some sense of self preservation. I know all too well that Karolina is a survivor. She’ll fight for herself if necessary.
She doesn’t know that I’ll gladly fight all of her battles for her.
“This isn’t any of your business,” she counters. Her voice is calm, but her fingers twist in her lap—she’s anxious despite her attempt at composure.
“I’m making it my business. Why won’t you go to the police? Is someone intimidating you into staying silent?”
She shifts in her seat and cuts her gaze away. “I really don’t want to talk to you about this.”
That surprises me. She’s fiercely independent, but I hadn’t anticipated this much resistance to my offer of support.
“Why not?”
She sighs. “I barely know you. Why would I come to you for anything, much less a private matter like this?”
I tap the phone again. “I won’t leave you to fend for yourself. Why won’t you go to the police?”
She eyes me warily, and I hate the distrust in her guarded expression.
“I promise nothing you say will leave this room,” I vow. “But you need some sort of protection. A stalker has your number. This person is a killer, and they’re watching you.”
