Page 7 of Hayden's Stalker

She’s definitely not going to like what I have to tell her.

I steel my nerves and say, “Jesse’s not here.”

“What?!” Tatiana explodes immediately.

“I sent him home. I was at home, and you were coming around soon, so I thought I was fine.”

Tatiana takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly, as though she’s trying to deal with a precocious toddler.

“You are never alone anymore, Hayden. Not until this situation is resolved. Understand?”

I nod and am thankful that we can get out of this tiny space when the elevator doors open. Tatiana wheels her suitcases into the entryway.

“I saw you put a code in the elevator. I’m going to need a list of every person who knows that code,” she tells me.

“Okay. Which room do you want to stay in?”

I’m worried that she’s going to yell at me again, and I feel like we’re starting off on the wrong foot with this thing.

“Preferably the one closest to yours, if you’re okay with that, but I’m also fine with whichever is available.”

“The room next to mine is free,” I tell her, forcing myself to ignore the arousal that the thought of her sleeping so close brings me. “Want me to wheel one of your suitcases?”

“Sure,” she smiles at me, and I’m relieved that she seems to have gotten over her anger at my fuck up.

I wheel the bigger suitcase, even though she’s probably stronger than I am, and lead her through my apartment to thebedroom next to mine. I walk in and hold the door open for her. She takes everything in as she looks around the room. There’s a king-sized bed, walk-in closet, and two armchairs in the sitting area by the window.

After putting her suitcases in the closet, she walks over to look in the bathroom. It’s just a normal bathroom, a shower, sink, spa bath, and enclosed toilet.

“I’m going to need to see the whole apartment,” she tells me as she walks back out.

“Sure. Might as well start with my room.” I smile at her.

I’m a little bit nervous about showing her my room. I know I’m basically not going to have any privacy with her, but it’s still weird to have this gorgeous woman inspecting everything I own.

My bedroom is the same as hers, just bigger, and she walks around it. Then goes and looks in the bathroom. I’m standing by the bed when she comes out, and I’m shocked by the feeling she brings to me. I’m suddenly acutely aware of the bed behind me, and it’s like every one of her features is in hyper focus for me; her long hair, blue eyes, and full red lips.

She looks back at me, and there’s an odd tension between us. I can see the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes in and out. I’m unsure what to say and I’m fighting hard to stop the physical reaction I’m having to her being in my space.

Fuck.

She’s my bodyguard. I need her in my life far more than I need her in my bed. I’m going to fuck this up, and I’m going to get killed. That thought immediately cuts through any sense of arousal that I’m feeling.

“All good, next room?”

She’s using that coolly professional tone again, and I wonder what the catalyst is for her to switch into it. I’m grateful for it because it puts us firmly back into bodyguard and client territory.

I show her the other bedrooms first. Since I apparently can’t be trusted around her and beds, I get those out of the way. After that, I show her the rehearsal room.

“I’m not thrilled that you have a room that’s completely soundproofed,” she sounds concerned.

“I’m assuming because if someone got in and took me there, no one would be able to hear.”

“Exactly,” she says with a serious look on her face, and I nod.

I’d never thought of that before. I take her into the game room, where my pool table, dart board, and board games are, plus the office and living room. I consider showing her the library, but I decide against it. Absolutely no one has ever been in there other than me, and my stalker wouldn’t even know it exists.

We walk past the entrance and into the kitchen, then sit across from each other at the dining table to talk.

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