Page 105 of Prized Possession

So why the fuck am I still relying on fantasies instead of memories? I have no bloody clue, but for some reason, I just can’t seem to ask him.

I don’t know what the hell is going on with me, as there’s nothing I want more, yet something is holding me back.It’s those pesky little things called feelings,my brain helpfully reminds me.

I let out a sigh of frustration as the thought overwhelms me. I can pretend all I want, but deep down, I’ve not taken things further with Marcus because I’m scared.

I have feelings for him, and have since I was a kid, but he’s been honest with me when he said he doesn’t do relationships.

I’m always going to want more from him than he’s willing to give. Yet, when he tells me I’m his, my heart races at the possibility there could be more.

Every girl wants to be the one to tame the bad boy, to make him want to settle down, and I can’t stop that stupid notion when I think of Marcus. No matter how ridiculous it is, a girl can dream.

Tonight, I’m extra antsy, and not just because I’m incredibly sexually frustrated. Marcus has yet to come home, and this is the latest he’s ever stayed out without letting me know.

There’s times he needs to be at the club, or meeting with people late at night, but he always texts to let me know. Even when he’s just working in his home office, taking late calls with people in different time zones, he lets me know.

I knew he was going to be out late with Miles, but they never specified where they were going, which, at the time, wasn’t odd, since they don’t always tell me about their work, but when Marcus didn’t come home, or text me, I started to worry.

Watching the clock doesn’t seem to be helping, time seems to be passing even slower now.

I’ve tried to sleep. It was three minutes past three when I fell asleep, and it was twenty-eight minutes past three when I woke up feeling worse than before.

I must have picked up my phone a million times, trying to decide whether I should text or call him, and each time I’ve thrown it down in a huff. I mean, I’m not sure I have any right to text him, demanding he lets me know he’s safe. We’re not together… We’ve barely just become friends, so I’m not sure I can make that sort of a demand on him.

Unfortunately, the longer my brain is allowed to run unchecked, the more outlandish the theories become. The most obvious one was that he’s dead, andmy heart hurt too much to even think that, so I quickly moved on to him being injured and in the hospital.

Granted, that didn’t feel a whole lot better, but at least I could breathe normally, where thoughts of him being gone sent me into a hyperventilating panic.

Once I’d covered every option of him being injured, things quickly escalated. Maybe he’d fled the country in a private jet to avoid prosecution after the police started closing in.

I mean, it’s unlikely to be that given he doesn’t have a private jet, and the police of Blackthorn are very deeply in Marcus and my family’s pocket.

I then went to the ridiculous, thinking maybe he’d accidentally got himself locked in a room, where he didn’t have a signal, and he wasn’t able to let anyone know he needed help.

Not a bad idea, but also a tad problematic as if nobody knows where he is, they won’t be able to rescue him. Which, of course, led to very dark thoughts about him starving to death.

Then my brain takes a very dark turn when I wonder if he’s gone home with another girl, since I haven’t agreed to fuck him yet. Even though he doesn’t do relationships, I assumed that while he’s with me, he wouldn’t be with anyone else.

Then again, he’s not with me, since I’ve not asked him yet. So can I really blame him if he’s found another girl to meet his needs?

I might not be able to blame him, but I can be very fucking mad at him.

I could ring or text Miles instead,I think to myself as the clock turns to forty three minutes past three, trying to distract from nightmares of Marcus with another woman.

It’s not a bad plan, except, there’s a good chance it would make me look even more insane than if I were to just reach out to Marcus. Then his friend would know I’m neurotic, and far too into him.

I reach over and grab my phone again, scrolling through social media in an attempt to distract me. I’m not at all looking to see if either of them have posted anything—which they haven’t.

Six minutes later, the front door slams open loudly, grabbing my attention. Before I can even think it though, I spring out of my bed and rush into the hallway. It’s empty, but I hear the sound of drawers banging in the kitchen, so I rush in there.

Marcus never makes this much noise when he knows I’m sleeping, so this, combined with his unexplained absence, has me really on edge. As soon as I get into the kitchen, I freeze, coldness washing over me as my stomach sinks.

The initial relief I felt, for just a fraction of a second, knowing he was aliveand safe went flying out of the window when I see all the blood covering his suit.

At the sound of me entering the kitchen, Marcus spins around, his eyes wide as he brandishes a large knife. I take a small step back with a yelp, holding my hands up.

“It’s just me, Marcus. Put the knife down,” I tell him, my voice shaking about as much as my body.

He lets his wrist go limp, the knife dropping to the floor as his wide blue eyes remain fixed on me. I take a step forward, and he seems to tense more.

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