Page 58 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

But that was years ago. And that car… it’s too expensive. Jasper could barely afford rent half the time. Unless he robbed a bank.

I back away from the window. I just started feeling safe here. Like I could breathe without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Now I’m standing in my living room, heart racing, wondering if the past has finally caught up. And if it has… what the hell do I do next?

I’m spiraling, heart hammering so hard it hurts. I steal another peek through the window, and that’s when I notice the driver’s window glides down. The man inside turns his head slightly, gaze fixed on my building.

I’ve seen that face before. He was one of the guards at Leonid’s gate the first time I went there.

Is Leonid having me followed?

Why?

Am I in any danger that he hasn’t told me about? Or is this just… him needing control, needing to know where I am every second, like Jasper used to do?

My mind goes back to how Jasper used to track my phone, show up at my job unannounced, and become violent when I questioned him. Is this the same thing? Am I repeating old patterns?

My legs move before my brain catches up. I fly down the stairs, out the lobby door, across the street. The SUV’s window has now gone up. I rap my knuckles on the glass.

It winds down, and the terrifying man turns fully now, a look of surprise on his face.

“Ma’am,” he says, voice calm, professional. “Everything alright?”

I cross my arms, trying to look tougher than I feel. “Are you following me?”

He blinks once. “No.”

“Don’t lie to me.” My voice shakes, but I push on. “I’ve seen this car, seen you parked across from my building three times this week. You were outside the yoga studio I use, a while ago. You were at the coffee shop too. Why?”

He exhales through his nose, expression unchanging. “Ma’am, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not following you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He looks at me for a long moment, assessing, almost regretful, and then glances away. “You’ll have to speak to Mr. Volkov about that.”

Leonid is really the one who sent him then. “Fine.”

I turn on my heel and march back inside, slamming the door harder than necessary. Up the stairs, into my apartment, deadbolt, chain, curtains drawn again. I grab my phone with shaking hands and call him.

It rings. Once. Twice. Voicemail.

I hang up, furious, and text instead.

Me: Do you have someone following me?

Me: Don’t deny it. I already confronted him.

The three dots appear immediately.

Leonid: I’m in a meeting. Can’t talk right now. I’ll call you in a few minutes.

I throw the phone onto my bed with a frustrated huff, then storm into the bathroom. And I take a hot shower.

I stand under the spray until my skin turns pink. When I finally step out, towel wrapped around me, the phone is ringing.

Leonid.

I answer on the second ring. “So?”