Page 45 of Perfect Stalker

“Santorini,” she says without hesitation. “The sunsets there... I’ve never seen anything like them. The sky turns into this canvas of oranges and pinks, reflecting off the white buildings. It’s magical.”

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I smile. “I’ve never been to Greece. Perhaps we could go someday.”

Jenny’s expression falters slightly, reminding me of the precarious nature of our relationship. “Maybe,” she says softly.

Our food arrives, momentarily distracting us. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, savoring the expertly prepared dishes.

“This swordfish is amazing,” she says, closing her eyelids when she takes another bite.

I nod in agreement. “So is the steak. The chef here is truly talented.”

As we continue eating, she becomes pensive, pushing food around her plate.

“Is everything all right?” I ask gently.

She takes a deep breath, setting down her fork. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

She traces the edge of her wineglass. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my past relationships. Not just Stephen, but...all of them.”

I lean forward, giving her my full attention. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve always thought if I gave enough, if I just tried harder, they’d change,” she says, her voice quiet but steady. “All I ever did was lose more of myself.”

My jaw clenches, anger rising at the thought of anyone hurting her. “Jenny, you don’t have to?—”

She holds up a hand, stopping me. “No, I need to say this. Stephen wasn’t the first. There was a pattern, you see. Men who seemed charming at first, but then...”

She takes a sip of wine, as if she’s bracing herself. “It started with small things. Criticizing my clothes or my friends. Then it escalated. One boyfriend ‘accidentally’ broke my phone when he saw a text from a male coworker. Another constantly accused me of cheating, even though I never did.”

My hands curl into fists under the table. I force myself to remain calm, to let her speak, and not demand the name of every one of them—though I already know after investigating her background—so I can strangle each one personally.

“I kept thinking it was my fault. If I was just better, more attentive, more understanding... Maybe they wouldn’t get so angry. I’d make excuses for their behavior, hide the bruises...” She trails off, clearly lost in painful memories.

I reach across the table, gently taking her hand. “None of that was your fault. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

She gives me a sad smile. “I know that now, but for so long, I believed I did. That’s why I stayed with Stephen for as long as I did. I thought I could fix him, fixus, but all I did was lose myself in the process.”

I squeeze her hand gently. “You’re incredibly strong, Jenny. To have survived all that and still be the compassionate, brilliant woman you are is remarkable.”

Jenny’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Thank you. I’m trying to believe that. To trust myself again.”

In an effort to distract her, and give her a chance to compose herself, I say, “‘Silver Fox Productions’ always had a holiday party, right?”

She nods. “They were usually really nice.”

“I think you can do better than nice,” I say with a smile. “I’d like you to head up organizing it.”

Her eyes widen. “But…Christmas is in three weeks. How can I get everything prepared in time?”

“With assistants and an unlimited budget, most things happen almost like magic.” I chuckle at her surprised look. “I’m putting all my resources at your disposal, so what do you envision for the party?”

Jenny shifts in her seat, her eyes brightening as she leans forward. “The Christmas party could be amazing. We should do it at ‘The Georgian Terrace.’ Their grand ballroom would be perfect.”

I study her animated expression, captivated by how her entire face lights up when she’s excited about something. Her enthusiasm is compelling despite my natural skepticism about large gatherings.

“‘The Georgian Terrace’ is quite exposed,” I point out. “Security would be challenging.”

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