Page 6 of Trapped With My Stalker

“About three different redheads, but one appears in four different locations, so I’m guessing she’s our girl, or she just happens to live in the area near all the spots in L.A.”

“Okay. Send the pics through.” As I open the emailed images, my chest burns when I see her. She’s my damn stalker.

I add, “I’m going to miss your skills when I retire.”

“What?” Felicity screeches.

“Sorry, but I can’t deal with the fans anymore. I want to just give it up. I have enough money to live well for the rest of my life, but I refuse to be afraid of the next damn crazy person looking to be my lover, wife, baby mama. Whatever her goal is. Fuck, this woman could want me dead for all I know.”

“What about me?” What does she mean ‘about her’? Is she talking about her job?

I feel terrible about it all, but it’s not like this wouldn’t eventually end when my career did. “You will find another actor or actress. I can find someone who needs an amazing assistant. I’ll give you every recommendation in the world. You’ve been wonderful to me, but I can’t continue with this.”

“I can’t believe it. We just discussed this the other day, and you said I could stay on, and we have to finish the movie press.” Shit, I completely forgot about all of my other obligations.

I sigh, running my hands through my hair. My fork moves the pasta around, getting colder by the moment, my appetite having left again. “Yeah, but I’m not sure how long that will be either. I’m just giving you a chance to start looking before it’s too late. I’m not saying you have to stop working for me now, but I don’t want to leave you high and dry one day.”

“Oh, thanks,” she scoffs, hanging up on me. I’m sure if she’d been in the office, she’d have slammed down the receiver. Shit, I suppose I should have seen that coming. After ten years with me, I gave her the news over the phone. Man, I’m such a dick. However, the more I stare, the more my anger builds. She is so damn devious.

I toss the wasted food that’s now gone cold and just sit back and think about my plans

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Chapter Four

Georgia

Two Days Later

“Son of a bitch,” I huff, walking toward the cabin on the other end of the bay. “It has to be the farthest motherfucking one,” I grumble, stealing a glance at the frightening sky and ocean waves.

My family owns them, but I inherited them when they moved away. I loved the business, but it was moments like this when the guests were stubborn that I wanted to scream. The weather shifted hours after I left the hot Mr. Barrymore’s cabin, and my world flipped on its head. I needed all of my guests to evacuate before the weather became too treacherous, but I couldn’t get a hold of him.

Unfortunately, the sheriff was in the middle of dealing with other matters, so I couldn’t just yank him from his duties, or I’d call him to help evacuate this tenant. After all, this man hasn’t done anything wrong except not leave for his own safety. Hell, for all I knew, Mr. Barrymore went with his grandmother, who has a classic pickup that is better in this weather than a freaking expensive Jaguar. Still, he should have taken it out of the area. It would suck if it was ruined. Although, given all the rock damage on the body, I doubt he cares.

I pounded on his door for the third time. He had one more chance to answer before I unlocked the damn door myself with the master key. I hope the bastard hasn’t died because I don’t need this drama after the damn two days from hell I’ve had. We have a storm coming and it isn’t the time for added problems.

“Mr. Barrymore, please open the door. It’s the Temptation Resort management.”

“Go away. I’ve paid for peace and quiet,” Mr. Knox barks through the closed wooden door. Damn it, he’s still here.

“There’s a storm coming,” I hollered. “We don’t have time for your bullshit.”

He whips open the door and drags me in. I find myself pinned to the bed wall; the door quickly clicks locked. “Why the fuck are you stalking me?” he growls, face nearly kissing my startled face. His heated breath brushed mine.

“Are you nuts? Let me go,” I hiss, kicking my feet out and thrashing, but it’s pointless because he’s muscular as hell, and his thighs press my quads flat.

“You’ve been stalking me for nearly six months. Why?” Mr. Knox asks. I freeze, confused as hell, wondering if he’s on some sort of drug, but when I look into his eyes, there are no signs of use, just something else. Something I’ve dreamed about—lust.

I scoff, “I don’t even know who you are, Mr. Barrymore, and if you don’t let me go, I’m going to press charges against you.” He smirks, pissing me off some more. I bump him with my chest, doing absolutely nothing to his broad chest.

He cocks his eyebrow, his smile only getting wider. “Press charges against me, beautiful? I could have you arrested for breaking into my—”

I cut him off and answered, “I own this cabin. I warned you I was coming in. I have a damn key.”

He twists up his brow, giving me a curious look. “Was that your plan to get me here?”

“Are you fucking nuts?” He’s gorgeous and just as handsome as I remembered when he was at Mrs. Barrymore’s home, but wow, has he got a screw or two loose?

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