Page 59 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

I drop my arms to my sides. “Angel, are you okay—”

But the man had to ruin this evening by opening his fat mouth. “Don’t fucking talk to me anymore, you disgusting, murderous psychopath!”

I freeze.

Did he just…?

That fucking word.

He just had to say that fucking word.

Rurik must have read something on my face that scared him. He takes a step back, his face draining of color. Before I can take a step toward him, he whirls around and runs off like a fucking coward.

Yeah, fuck that guy.

I give up.

He’s no angel.

Whatever fascination I had about him has completely disappeared.

Chapter 10

Briar

So, this morning, I had a couple of choices when I woke up. Do I wake up and choose violence or choose to fuck some rando to get Rurik off my system?

The answer is violence.

I woke up today, rolled out of bed, and said, “You know what, yeah, I’m gonna choose violence today, hehe.”

By violence, I mean violently killing my dignity as I stalk this asshole around like some masochist bitch.

It’s been ten fucking days since our last encounter. And I’m fucking proud of myself for not texting that dick. Even though every part of my being wanted to see how his week was going, I didn’t. I resisted. Even when Nat said she would go and help Oscar with that Masquerade of the Arts event, I made up some excuse and didn’t go with her.

Did I give myself a pat on the back for refusing to join them, only to throw myself in bed and cry big, fat, ugly tears because I wanted nothing more than to go to that event and support Rurik?

Pffft.

Maybe.

Here’s the thing, though… Just because I couldn’t speak to him didn’t mean I couldn’t see him. So the past few days, I stalked the shit out of him. I had Nat hack into his phone and block Fake-ass Barbie from his phone. Actually, I had her delete all the dating apps on his phone.

He doesn’t need those anymore when he has me.

Not that we’re going to do anything in the future.

He’s too much of an uptight asshole.

And yes, I still secretly protect him from wannabe criminals. What? He’s fucking clueless, this asshole. He thinks he’s safe, but he’s not. Who’s going to watch over and protect him from other assholes if I stop?

He still doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings at night. There had been so many times when I was tempted to throw a fucking rock at his face to get him to look up and watch where he was going.

But I didn’t.

Because I’m a grown-ass woman and have self-control like that.

I’m super pissed at the guy, but I don’t want to kill him.

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