Page 23 of Stalker

“Don’t be sorry,” She replied, “I’m a million percent in support of you taking time for you after the last two decades of serving everyone else. But that doesn’t mean a part of me isn’t selfish in wanting to at least be a small part of your new independent life.”

“I know.” I replied, “You’ve been kind of MIA lately too, you know. You’re kind of like this mysterious cool sister who has a whole other life that I know nothing about.”

She snorted and I smiled to myself, “Sometimes another life doesn’t mean it’s any more exciting though.”

“But is it?” I questioned. Olivia had always been a kind of rebellious soul over the years and even though she had a steady job at the bank and her own apartment, there was always a bit of mystique in her life, like I knew there was more she didn’t share.

“Meh, it can be. But it’s not as cool as you think it is I’m sure.”

“Well, then maybe we should add some excitement to our lives,” I offered, glancing over at the present again and remembering the way my stalker’s words excited me. “We deserve to divert off the path we thought we’d follow and choose what makes us happy, don’t we?”

“We do.” She agreed, and I could hear the smile in her voice finally. “Let’s just agree if the other one calls looking for bail money, we don’t tell mom or dad. Fair?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Yeah, I’d rot in jail before I disappointed them that way.”

“Same.” She said, but there was something veiled in her voice I didn’t recognize. Something new that hadn’t been there before as I thought back over our conversations in the last few months.

Something I’d dig deeper into someday.

Chapter 9 – Lincoln

Be nice.

Be nice.

Be fucking nice.

I repeated the mantra in my head the entire time I sat at the table waiting for her to bring my dinner to me. Earlier, I set her up with the panties in my closet, and all afternoon I could see the weight of it on her shoulders as I watched her through the cameras from my office.

Although I wanted to push her away, I had to take my time breaking her down. I couldn’t do it too fast, or she’d quit and leave forever. I needed to give her just enough hope that it would work as my housekeeper, so she’d stay close. If she left, I’d never get her completely free during the chase.

She had to hate me to letDanehave a chance to give her what she desperately needed. But I didn’t need to destroy every piece of her self-esteem in two days, so I forced myself to rein in it.

I heard the click of her heels before she entered into the dining room. Last night, she’d worn a tight black dress that huggedevery inch of her lush curves. Forty-seven times at least while I ate my meal I imagined sliding my hand up her silky thigh and lifting the fabric of her skirt until it was bunched around her waist and then lay her back on the table and feast on her pussy instead of the delicious meal she made me. Tonight, though, she wore black slacks and a long sleeve navy blue top.

I hated it. And I knew she wore it as a barrier against my crass ass.

So for the meal, I’d soften just a bit. Give her hope and maybe ease some of the weight on her shoulders for an hour until she could retire to my guest house and talk to her stalker.

I could tell by the way she continuously checked her phone through the day that she wanted him to reach out to her. Yet I didn’t, even though I longed to dive into her brain all day instead of all my other work.

“Wine?” She asked, holding up a bottle of red and I leaned back in my chair, holding my glass out to her so she didn’t have to reach.

“Please.” Fuck if I could remember the last time I said please to anyone but Mrs. Straight. And that was usually in sass after she admonished me about something in the way a mother would.

At least a mother who loved her child.

“Dinner will be out in a moment.” Peyton announced and turned away, but I reached out and grabbed her arm as she turned, surprising her.

“What did you make me tonight?” I gentled my hold on her arm and then let go completely as she stared at me like I had four heads.

“Tortellini.” She whispered softly and then cleared her throat and added with more conviction, “Chicken and tortellini in a sundried tomato cream sauce.”

“If it tastes as good as it smells, I’m sure it will be delicious.” I brought my wineglass to my lips and swallowed it as she continued to stare. “I’m nearly salivating for it.”

“I’ll be right back.” She scurried from the room, her face flushed with embarrassment, and I couldn’t help but grin at her discomfort. I pledged to soften myself a bit in her presence, but not that I wouldn’t make her squirm. It was half the fun.

When she returned, there was a bit of a pep to her step as she carried a large steaming plate out and gently set it down on the table in front of me.

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