Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“It wasn’t Phillip?”
Drew’s eyebrows furrow sympathetically, and his hand lifts to stroke my hair. Again, I flinch from the touch, even though I still can’t remember why. We’ve been lifelong friends.
“It all became so clear what had happened when you suddenly disappeared. We got a judge to issue a warrant to search his rat-infested apartment, and they found the equipment he used to spam your email and phone accounts and break into the surveillance at your hotel. He’s been your stalker all along. He was obsessed with you even before you hired him. From the first time you stepped in that filthy sex place.”
“What?” I ask, so completely turned around and confused. “Who?”
“Isaak Luther,” Drew answers as if it’s completely obvious.
I burst out laughing at Drew’s ridiculous conclusion. I try to sit up on the couch, but Drew’s hands immediately come to my shoulders, pushing me back down.
“What the fuck, Drew? Let me up!”
“I don’t think you’re ready to get up,” he says, his voice low, and—for the first time, I realize with stunning clarity—dangerous.
All the air whooshes out of my lungs.
“It was you.”
I still can’t remember everything, but I have a vague image of standing outside the Denver hotel and Drew handing me a coffee—
“You drugged me!”
Oh my god, if he’s capable of that… My muddled brain struggles to filter through everything else he’s just told me, even though none of it makes any sense.
I look up at Drew with dawning horror. “You’re my stalker?”
He stares down at me, features offended and shocked, but only for a moment before he breaks out in a little chuckle.
“Well, I guess the gig’s up now.”
He releases my shoulders and sits in the armchair across from the couch.
I scramble to sit up, but sway, still woozy from whatever he drugged my coffee with this morning. I look at the late afternoon light streaming through the windows. What time is it? I hold my pounding head in my hand. God, was that just this morning? How long have I been out?
“Why would you do that?” I’m so bewildered. “I was already your fiancée!”
He waves a finger at me. “But you kept breaking the rules.”
“What rules? I wasn’t sleeping with anyone when the stalking started!”
“But you started going to that sinful little club, hadn’t you? I told you I didn’t like it, but you still went.”
My mouth drops open. I vaguely remember a conversation that was maybe three seconds long where I told Drew about the research I was excited about for my dissertation. He asked how I was going to go about my research, and I told him about my deal with Caleb to observe at the club. Don’t do that, he’d said. Not you stooping to their level. I’m sure there’s another way to get what you need. Better yet, why don’t you just choose a different dissertation topic?
The conversation stopped there, because I wasn’t about to justify my work to anyone, much less some man, even if he was my fiancé. It was none of his business.
“So you started stalking me?” I cry. “How does that make sense? You never gave a shit about me or anything I did!”
He half rises out of his chair. “I signed up for a boring, supportive, obedient fiancée. I wanted the girl I knew in high school. That’s the woman my father expects me to marry.”
“Your fath—” But I stop mid-sentence, because of course. Of course none of this was ever about me. Drew’s obsession is the same as always—pleasing his monster of a father.
“So I needed to persuade you to correct your path.”
“By terrorizing me? By killing small animals and painting their blood on my wall?” I see him so clearly now. He’s taken pleasure every step of the way. “Or was that because you got a kick out of it? More than you expected?”
“Shut up!” he shouts, taking another step toward me again when all I can do is flinch back into the couch. “I did what I had to do. If you hadn’t been such a slutty bitch, none of this would have been necessary. I had a perfect plan. Dad finally believes in me and I’m not going to let you ruin this!”
I cower from him, because I see him as he truly is. He’s capable of real violence. He’s a textbook case, actually, starting with hurting small animals. Even now, I can see in his eyes that he’s looking for an excuse to hurt me. He wants to punish me for breaking some sort of bullshit patriarchal rules I didn’t know existed. He doesn’t own me, and he wouldn’t even if we got married.
I want to stab his eyes out. But I doubt I have the strength at the moment to heft my arm up. Not to mention I don’t see anything sharp and stabby within grabbing distance.