Page 51 of Sacred Vow
Things are starting to get complicated, and the more time I spend with Caesar, the clearer it becomes. Not to mention, I don’t like messy, and continuing to sleep with both of them will lead me straight down that path. Caesar clearly doesn’t mind what I get up to with his son, but there’s no guarantee that Zeph will feel the same if he were to find out, and I’m not in the game of getting between a father and his son.
Zephyr is great, and I have no doubt that one day, after he’s grown up a little and emotionally matured, perhaps had some real-life experiences to give him perspective, he’s going to make somebody a very happy woman, but that woman isn’t going to be me.
13
CAESAR
It’s official. I have a sick obsession with my son’s girl.
The fuck is wrong with me?
One night with Tilly in my living room, and I was a goner. But one night with Tilly at Vixen, and now I’m fucking ruined. Who the hell was I kidding, thinking I could invite her to a place like Vixen and take control? Sure, she let me have my way with her, but it wasn’t long before she took the reins and told me exactly how the night was going to go. And damn it, I loved every second of it.
I loved seeing her in charge. Loved seeing the way she took what she wanted. There’s a confidence in her that I don’t usually see. Most of the women I’m with want to fall to their knees and be the perfect little whore, and while Tilly is all too happy to play along, it’s never long before she flips the script, and that feisty little vixen comes out of her.
She’s a sexual goddess, and she’s got me hooked.
I sit back at my desk, bringing up Tilly’s information on my computer as I run a background check. Sure, when sheagreed to let me look into the fucked-up messages she’d been getting on social media, she probably didn’t understand just how thoroughly I’d be looking into her. I’d usually have one of my employees doing this shit, but not when it comes to Tilly, and especially not now that I know there’s a video of her sweet little cunt being splashed across the internet.
That’s mine. And mine alone.
Fuck. Mine? What the hell is wrong with me? I’m the one who insisted she keep fucking my son, and now I decide to be a possessive asshole? I don’t have the right. There’s nothing exclusive about us, and considering my extracurricular activities, she doesn’t owe me that.
Yet here we are.
As her background check runs, I do a deep dive into her social media accounts, following the breadcrumbs until I find the private account for The Vag Destroyer, and the hundreds of other profiles created solely for the purpose of fucking with Tilly, each one of them posted with still shots from her unfortunate live video.
It takes time, but eventually every last account is removed, along with the images of Tilly that had been posted, but considering this asshole probably has those pictures saved on his phone or hard drive, it won’t be long before he makes new accounts and plays the same bullshit over again.
I run a check on the main account, diving deep into the data, but the guy is good. There’s nothing that gives away his identity or even the slightest detail about him.
He’s like a ghost on the internet, intent on trolling every beautiful woman he comes across. The messages and comments this asshole posts are disgusting, and while Tilly is far from his first victim, it’s clear that he’s saved his most disgusting comments for her.
The deeper I get, the more disturbing it becomes, and when I find images of Tilly from out on the street having been followed, my stomach begins to knot. Perhaps this asshole is something a little more than a sick internet troll, but he should know, if he even thinks about going anywhere near her, I’ll be all too happy to pay him a little visit.
Fucking pig. He’s either some horny teenager who thinks the way to get a woman into bed is by insulting her, no doubt a trick he’s learned from the shitty men in his life, or he’s a forty-year-old virgin who hates women because none of them have ever willingly offered their bodies up to him. Either way, this fucker needs to be found and taught a goddamn lesson.
I’m able to find the IP address, but unfortunately, that’s as far as this can go. Though I’m not above delivering one hell of a virus into his computer. It won’t ruin his life, but it’ll take him offline for a while and more than inconvenience him.
With The Vag Destroyer momentarily dealt with, I move on to Tilly’s viral video. She had removed it from her profile, but that shit had been shared more than just a few times, and as I do a deep dive across the internet, I find it posted and reported countless times.
There’s no telling how many times it’s been saved to personal devices, and while there’s nothing I can do about that or be able to stop anybody from uploading it again, I can at least scrub it from the internet and slow this beast down. It’ll be something that requires constant checking in, but for now, she can sleep easy knowing it’s gone and not readily accessible to the sick perverts across the internet.
Just as I’m wrapping up everything with her video and tying up loose ends, I receive a notification that her in-depth background check has been completed, and while I know none of this shit is my business, I can’t help myself.
I open it up and search through every facet of her life, and within seconds, I’m stumped. Tilly isn’t even her name. It’s Natalie Bardot. Tilly is nothing more than a nickname she’s adopted and ran with, but I prefer it.
I read through all her details. Her current and past addresses. What school she went to. Her hometown. Where she was born and raised. The name of her family pet. Fuck, by the time I’m done, I even know that the hamster she had in fourth grade was given a full burial after it died of suspicious circumstances.
With every piece of information I learn about this woman, I find myself needing to know more. There’s a possessiveness there that I haven’t experienced with anyone before, not even Zephyr’s mom, and that makes me sick. The things I did because of that woman were unforgivable and cost me ten years of my life, so what the fuck would I be capable of with a woman who lives rent-free in my head?
Fuck. I don’t even need to ask the question. I already know. There’s not a single goddamn line I wouldn’t cross for her. Which is why I find myself submitting an order for a full surveillance setup at her apartment and surrounding buildings, ordered as top priority.
I’m a sick bastard, what can I say?
My team will have it complete by close of business today, and it’ll be done discreetly. Tilly will have no idea that her home is covered in Di Rozé software, every inch of her apartment accessible through a live camera feed that will be available only to me. My men will even hand-deliver me a spare key to her apartment, but it won’t be necessary. If I need to get in there, I won’t be stopping to search for a key; I’ll be knocking the fucking door down.
Will I tell myself that I’m doing this for her safety? Absolutely, and while that’s partly true, it’s not the only factor playing a role. I did this for me. Am I a sick pervert who’s quickly developingan irrational obsession with a twenty-two-year-old woman, currently screwing my son? Yeah, it’s looking that way.
