Page 24 of Obsessive Stalker

I glance at Lee and he shrugs.

“What are you doing?” I ask Kristen.

“Do you like chocolate cake?” she asks me. “I thought it would be nice to celebrate. I turn twenty-four tomorrow.”

Fuck.

“Tomorrow,” I say. “Tomorrow is your birthday. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

She smiles fully now, no longer reluctant.

“You know, of all the things I expected you to apologize for, forgetting my birthday isn’t it,” she says.

I look at Lee and the guard beside me.

“You’re dismissed,” I say to them both.

They look as though they want to argue, but again, they know better. My men are trained to follow orders, even when the orders seem to defy logic. And my order right now, to leave me alone with a woman who’s attacked me every time she’s gotten the chance, does defy logic.

“You shouldn’t be making your own dessert,” I say. “It’s your birthday. Others should be baking for you.”

“You’re welcome to take over if you want,” she says, raising a brow.

I come closer, taking the spoon from her hand. The batter smells fucking amazing, but not as amazing as Kristen looks.

She doesn’t move away from me when I come close to mix the batter, leaning against the counter and watching me.

“I always have pie on my birthdays normally,” she murmurs. “Never cake.”

“That’s unconventional,” I comment.

“Someone ruined birthday cakes for me a long time ago,” she shrugs. “So I always have birthday pie. But you don’t have the ingredients for pie in your pantry and…”

“And?”

“And I thought maybe you could help un-ruin birthday cake for me,” she says, looking up at me shyly.

“Who ruined birthday cake for you?” I ask. “And why?”

“If I tell you, are you going to kill them, too?”

“Maybe.”

She laughs, but I don’t.

Because I’m not fucking kidding.

“It was a long time ago,” she says, shaking her head. “I feel dumb that I let it affect me so much, but that’s how it is. I’ve always been heavy, including when I was a kid. Andthis personused to cut me the tiniest piece of birthday cake ever because they didn’t want me to gain weight. We’re talking razor thin slices of cake. It was practically pointless.”

“Your own birthday?” I ask. “Like it was your birthday andyourcake?”

She nods.

“That’s fucked up,” I say. “You should get to eat whatever the hell you want. Especially on your birthday. Your weight is fine. Your weight is perfect, actually.”

Her cheeks color.

“Don’t do that, don’t lie to me and tell me I’m not bigger.”

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