Page 4 of Certified Heartthrob

I left them to their work and tried to carry on with my usual business, but I knew my focus level would only be at half-capacity with this troll mystery hanging over our heads. Thankfully, by the end of the day, Joe and his guys called me back down to see what they had uncovered.

“Here he is,” he told me, turning his screen around so I could see his social media profiles. “His real name is Mark Silver. And one of his profiles uses that name and his real photos. The others are bogus.”

I leaned down to get a closer look at the guy and was surprised by how normal he looked. The only thing abnormal about him was how good-looking he was. His main profile pic was pretty basic—a built guy with dark skin and hair flashing a charming smile in an expensive suit. But scrolling down to his gym selfies...phew. Those were the real killers. This guy was like something from a Calvin Klein ad when he took his shirt off.

I swallowed hard and tried to hide my hot, blushing cheeks. “Why is he creating profiles that make him look worse than he actually does in real life? Isn’t that counterproductive? It’s like the opposite of catfishing.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Mind if I look through this?” I practically shoved Joe out of his seat, and he was more than happy to take the opportunity for a coffee break—giving me a little alone time with Mr. Silver.

There was no clear info about what exactly he did for a living, but judging by the amount of leisure time apparent in his photos and this whole trolling endeavor in itself, along with his nice clothes and frequent traveling...it was safe to say he had some money.

I fell into a deep click hole, scrolling through pic after pic and post after post. He was nothing like I’d expected. I had envisioned a sad, below-average looking guy mouth-breathing night after night over his gaming computer in his mom’s basement.

But no. Judging from Mark’s social media accounts—he was far from any of those things. And the other intriguing piece to Joe’s report was this guy’s address...which just so happened to be in the city. I definitely couldn’t pay him a visit in person...could I?

2

Mark

It was a beautiful evening as I strolled home in the sunset. The weather was perfect—not too hot, not too cold. I’d had a long day and was looking forward to getting back to my place to relax. I was looking forward to it so much in fact, that I barely noticed the woman sitting on my stoop.

“Mark Silver?” She stood up the moment she saw me.

I looked her up and down, trying to guess what her motives might be. She was professionally dressed with long, dark, sleek hair and piercing icy blue eyes. As gorgeous as she was, she looked wound a little too tight, which put me on edge.

“Are you a cop?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Her brow furrowed. “No. Why? Are you expecting a visit from the cops?”

“No, but I imagine the worst visits you could get from the police are the ones you’re not expecting.” I pushed past her with my bagful of groceries under my arm and started to unlock my door. I wanted to make sure I was in a position to slam the door in her face if it was called for.

“My name is Camille Meadows.”

I stopped and turned towards her again. I knew that name.

“With Heartstr—”

“I know who you’re with.” I cut her off. “I just don’t know why you’re here.”

“I think you do know why I’m here.”

I smirked. “So, you are kind of like a cop.”

“It’s not my intention to interrogate you, but I do have some questions. Mind if I come in?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “No way I’m letting you into my place. Sit down and wait here. I’ll be back in a minute after I put all this away.”

“Wait.” She shot up the steps, placing a hand on my arm. “How do I know you won’t just go in there and lock the door and never come back out?”

“Well, I have to come back out eventually.”

She tilted her head, looking unamused.

I finally gave in, rolling my eyes and taking a seat on the front steps. I shoved my bag of groceries off to the side and groaned. “Alright. You’ve got five minutes. But not a second longer. I’ve got a pricy hunk of salmon in this bag and I don’t want it turning the wrong temp.”

“Salmon. Got it.” She lowered down onto the step beside me. “So, as I said before...I take it you know why I’m here.”

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