Page 13 of A Smile Full of Lies
My attention slid to the stack of mail beside it.
I picked it up and flipped through it.
Overdue notices. Late fees. Final warnings.
Her power was three days from being cut off.
My jaw flexed as an unbearable pressure flared beneath my skin.
Her internet bill was overdue, too. It had a manageable balance, but the cutoff date had already passed. She must’ve been skating by on some kind of grace period. It wouldn’t last long.
A slow burn crawled through my chest, low, tight, and heavy.
She was drowning, and she didn’t reach out. She didn’t ask me for a single goddamn thing.
I pulled out my phone and hovered over her account portals, her passwords already memorized thanks to the keystroke logger I’d put on her laptop. I could fix it all right now, every last detail. It would be so fucking easy for me to just handle her mess and make it all go away.
I inherited fifteen million dollars when my family was murdered, and I’d more than doubled that with smart investments and the advancements I made to the cybersecurity company passeddown by my father. That was nearly four years ago. The anniversary of their deaths was coming up on the 27th.
And just four days after that? Halloween. Ros’s twenty-fifth birthday. Fixing her life would be a nice birthday present, right?
But I didn’t fix it. I didn’t clean up her mess. I didn’t make it all go away.
Why?
Because if I did, she’d stay here, in her Gran’s house, alone and independent. She’d stay in my sights, but just beyond my reach.
And I’d waited seven long, excruciating fucking years to have her close enough to keep.
So, I closed the apps, reset the screen, and stared down at the power shutoff notice in my hand.
Three days, and she’ll break. Three days, and she’ll come to me because she’ll have no one else to turn to.
And what will I do? I’ll open my door, take her in, and I’ll never let her go.
And if she doesn’t come to me? I’ll come to her, and I’ll drag her into my house kicking and screaming if I have to.
What kind of man does that?
The kind who waits. The kind who watches. The kind who doesn’t put out the fire, not because he can’t, but because he wants to feel the heat on his own skin.
She’s trusted me with everything: her house key, her quiet, her grief.
And I’m letting her fall. Not to hurt her. To catch her. To bring her home the only way she’ll let me.
I’ve been patient long enough.
Letting her power get shut off is a shitty fucking thing to do. But it’ll get her in my house, under my roof, breathing my air.
When she breaks, it won’t be because the world failed her. It’ll be because I let it happen, and I’ll live with that. Gladly.
Because once she’s in my house… she’ll finally be mine.
Chapter
Five
KNOX
