Page 34 of Between Dusk and Dawn

"But nothing. You are not going to wee your pants. You are going to walk in there and become the most popular girl. No one will know your struggle because what we worked so hard on these last few months will come into effect. You will rise above all of it."

"What if I can't?"

"There is no option, sweetheart. You must."

"Why?"

"Because some people are born into this type of world. Some people are given a silver spoon to eat off of, but not us. You are meant to work it. You are meant to fake it. Leave the tough interior you have and keep it to yourself. Horrible things will come to you if you walk around this earth wearing the struggles you’ve gone through on your sleeve."

I nodded, not really understanding my grandmother, but when I got to school, I befriended the cheerleader captain. She told me tryouts were this week and asked me if I was any good at gymnastics. I lied and told her I’d been in gymnastics my entire life growing up.

She seemed to believe my story and told me I should try out. When her little group of friends asked where my parents were, I also lied and said they were on a trip to Europe and left me in the care of my grandmother. It was exactly what she’d told me to say when they would ask. That day, I never wet myself. I was invited to hang out with the jocks, the playboys, and the girls.

Surprisingly, it worked remarkably well. Being invited to sit at their lunch table was impressive, and the headcheerleader's invitation to hang out at her house was shocking. In that moment, I knew I’d never walk around without wearing my alternative self. If I was strong enough, I’d never have to go back to the place I was before. The place where people took advantage of me. The place where the people who were supposed to cherish, love, and protect me, broke me. I would never, ever let anyone hurt me again. I’d become untouchable. I would be seen.

Chapter Eleven

From the driveway, I watched her through the cameras. Her hair fanned around her as she was curled in a ball on the floor.My little muse. The one person who inspired me to unravel in my own demise. Her chest rose and fell steadily, as if she was comforted in the faux safety of her home.

Circling around the back of the house, I knew the professor occupying the front was on vacation. I had hijacked her security systems so they’d glitch right now, not giving me away. The woman sleeping a few feet away, in the little cabin at the edge of the forest, was a crafty one. Despite her earlier attempts to convince me she lived in another apartment with some guy, I relished the devious grin that crossed her face as she rushed home, unaware that I was lingering in her shadows. I would always be there, watching her—because I was going to make her mine.

Her failure to acknowledge or express gratitude for my assistance with the bar dilemma was profound disrespect, only emphasizing her need for me. She needed a teacher, someone who could show her what true safety meant.

I needed to provide that for her. During the drive into Isles, I realized I would never marry my father's chosen match. Shecouldn't keep pace with my lifestyle, and, for once, I needed to seize control. I desired a queen on my throne. After all, I was born to be a leader. I had to convince my father this was the right path.

After rounding the back of the cabin, I lifted the bathroom window. She left it unlocked, as she liked to vent the humidity after a shower. Otherwise, I would’ve used the key I had made, but then I would’ve chanced disturbing her since she fell asleep by the door.

As I stalked through her house, I stopped at each little knickknack that graced the corners of the rooms. A small stuffed animal with burned fur rested on a chair in the small living room. I was curious enough to examine it before placing it back where it belonged.

"What secrets are you hiding?" I whispered as I walked over to where Madison lay on the ground. I crouched next to her, reveling in her innocent sleeping form and how her chest rose and fell with every inhale.

"A little liar you are, Muse." I lifted her in my arms bridal style. She was dead asleep. The combination of adrenaline and booze must’ve overwhelmed her body.

As I held her in my arms, something inside of me snapped. I was every bit the brutal man on the outside, craving power and the deep desire to show the world what I was capable of. But being inside this little cabin, none of that need flared to life, I just had a need to protect Madison.

It was the same feeling I had when we first met, and every moment since. Was it absurd I had her followed for three long years? Absolutely. If anyone in the family found out, would I be totally fucked? Probably. Was I thinking about risking it all to be with her? Yes.

"Fuck," I gruffed. These thoughts were not supposed to occur. The goal was to punish her for everything she did to mysister and to seek retribution for everything she had done to our family in the past. Yet, whenever in her presence, there was something about her that complicated everything.

Carrying her over to the bed, I admired her relaxed state. She was Maddy to everyone else, but to me, she was the only girl who could stomach my secrets. Somehow after all these years, I still saw her.

"You’re nothing but a liar," I whispered in her ear. It carried the tone of a lullaby a lover would share, but the words were harsh. She hurt my family, so why did I feel this need to cradle her in my arms? When I was in her presence, my world tilted on its axis.

I laid her on her bed before sitting in the brown leather reading chair beside her.

Pulling out my phone, I scanned the images of my future wife, then glanced at the sleeping princess in front of me with her red hair splayed over the pillow.

"Think," I said before I stood from the chair.

Slowly, I took off her heels. She was wearing a shirt so short that most of her breasts were exposed and it took so much out of me not to reach up and play with her pink nipples.

I unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off; they couldn't be comfortable to sleep in. Or maybe that was an excuse to admire her exposed pussy with the little landing strip neatly trimmed. My hands drifted over her creamy skin, and I’d almost forgotten how soft and smooth it was.

I needed to focus. My resolve was fixed on charting a course to ascend as the head of the Italian Mafia, the foremost leader in all underground circles, and construct an empire of my own. Yet, paradoxically, I found myself ensnared in the echoes of emotions reminiscent of the years past. In her presence, I unraveled, my heart, once frozen, thawing in the warmth she emanated.

And dear God, my cock throbbed at knowing how good I could make her feel, how she’d come undone on my fingers or my cock, and her pussy would wreck me. Shit, I knew I was fucked the moment I set foot in this town and heard her crying at the bar. When I set that man’s dick on fire, burning it to ash, it was far from the plan I had in place to just see her—watch her. I did it out of pure anger and adrenaline. She was the demise to any control I thought I had.

I tucked one of her legs inside the blanket, but let the other out as, leaving her stomach and pussy on full display. Leaning back into the recliner, I watched her eyelashes flutter as she slept. Being her stalker was more fun when I got to watch her in person. There was no grainy pixelation or anything left up to my imagination. No. She was right there.

---