Page 17 of Devoted
I am hoping tonight did not put a strain on the relationship between you and me. Alek is very special to me, and anyone he loves is also special to me. Please text me when you and Emma return home so that we know you two are safe.
Well, goddamn, I can see why Alek loves the guy so much. I wish some of that sincerity rubbed off on the other Adler man.
Vivian
We’re headed back soon.
Wishing the best for the two of you. Please tell Alek to call me in the morning.
After updating Emma and T about Alek and Ezekiel’s situation, we polish off the rest of the fries, clean up our booth, and head out the door after waving a quick goodbye to Rhett.
On the way home, the inconspicuous profile I saw won’t leave my mind. The art. I know that art. It’s a struggle to place it because of all the art I had to study in design school not long ago.
Once we get home, Em heads upstairs to her room to get some sleep. She says she’s got a day with Caleb’s family planned for tomorrow and needs all the energy she can get. Wishing her good night, I head into the kitchen for another glass of water, hoping this one will be the one to stave off a nasty hangover.
As I fill up a glass, I notice the sketchbook I left on the dining table earlier today. Maybe looking through it might help me place where I’ve seen that fucking art before.
Sitting down, I start flipping through my sketches and collages, only to freeze when I see a drawing I made in early September.
And then, it allclicks.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VIVIAN
Am I into this? No, of course not. Well…
“That goddamn asshole!” As much as I’d like to scream right now, my curse comes out as more of a hoarse whisper because I don’t want to wake up Em accidentally.
I feel like a fool for not realizing what was going on. I finally discovered the answer to why Knight has been acting so weird since the day of the gala at his house. This explains how he can look at me like I’m his world one second and then sneer at me like I’m gum beneath his shoe the next.
Knight has beenstalkingme.
His liking of my latest photo from a seemingly random art account was only the tip of this deception iceberg, and I knew there was more to dig into. Clutching my sketchbook and phone with a shaking hand, I speedwalk over to my bedroom where I can properly freak out without risking Emma realizing what’s going on.
Once in my room, I sit myself on my bed, back against the headboard, as I flip to an empty page. With anger, I start writing everything down before I forget.
Proof of my bitch-ass stalker:
1. He’s using an old account to go through my posts (I know it’s his art).
2. He’s been in my office when I’m not there (and leaves it smelling amazing).
3. He can’t interact with me like a normal person (serious whiplash).
My brain starts analyzing the past few weeks and every interaction I’ve had with Knight. Suddenly, I remember how odd he was acting that day when I almost fell onto him in the stairwell. He was injured; his body was full of tiny scratches and bruises, while he walked with a limp. Even then, he carried me in his huge arms like I was nothing… but that’s not the point.
Raking my memory even further, I realize that was the day after Em and I heard someone outside our apartment. I recall because I slept like shit that night and I was so groggy at work that I ended up stupidly falling up that last step of the stage stairs.
No, there’s no way those two things are related, right? That would mean Knight was outside my fucking window for god knows how long that night. A burst of laughter involuntarily leaves my lips when I think of how ridiculous this all is. I swear to god, it’s like I’ve read this in a book before.
I have a crush on my boss.
My boss is apparently stalking me.
And it doesn’t feel as weird as it should.
Before I start overthinking my reaction, or lack thereof, the memory of the muddy piece of clothing I found that night pops into my mind. I know I have it somewhere here. Honestly, once Rhett had come over to spend the night as our guard, I totallyforgot about the scrap of clothing I shoved into a baggie with the promise of investigating it later. I’m no forensic scientist, but if I can find it, I know I can at least see the color of the fabric or check for any tags that might still be on it.
