Page 52 of Tempting the Monster

My home feels empty. He wasn’t even here for twenty-four hours, and he’s placed his stamp on my condo. I want him back.

Instead of pining over him, I decide to do a little housework to keep myself busy. I clean the kitchen, disinfect countertops and wipe down cabinets, then move to the bathroom and do the same, including scrubbing the master shower down.

When I start on my room, I stand at the foot of my bed, and I silently scream at the sight in front of me. My expensive flax linen sheets have blood on them. Blood that I didn’t see and didn’t realize happened. Blood from last night’s loss of my virginity.

Ohmigod.

He had to have seen that. My face heats with embarrassment, and if anyone were here, they would no doubt comment on the color because I’m pretty positive that it’s bright red. I cannot believe I didn’t think about that and figure out a way to hide it before he saw it.

How freaking embarrassing.

Quickly, I move around the room, stripping the sheets and carrying them into the laundry room to try and get the dried blood off them. Then my stomach flips when I realize we slept in that and did it again on those.

Ohmigod.

I feel gross.

Like, it’s disgusting, right? I also feel like I can’t tell anyone about this or talk about it ever. It’s not a question I can call Allison about. Almost anything else. But bloody sheets? Eeeww.

Swiftly, I throw the sheets into the washer, put some soap in, and pressStart. Walking out of the room, I close the door behind me and hope that once the stain is gone, my embarrassment will be washed away as well.

As I grab my phone off the charger, I notice it’s at thirty percent, which is enough for me to call Doctor Hamilton because right now, I’m feeling like I might be sick. She said I could call after hours for a price, of course, but right now, I would pay a million dollars not to feel this way.

The phone rings a few times before she picks up, and she sounds a bit confused, as if she wasn’t expecting me to actually call her. Maybe she was just offering the service to be nice. I think about hanging up and curling into a ball in the corner of my sofa, but inhaling a deep breath, I let it out slowly and speak.

“Doctor Hamilton?” I ask. “It’s me, Parker.”

“Oh, Parker, talk to me.”

Tears instantly fill my eyes and stream down my cheeks. That’s when I spill everything. I tell her about the handsome stalker, though I don’t say his name because it’s not really imperative at the moment. I tell her about him showing up and how I just gave him anything and everything he wanted, but now that he’s gone, I feel really… indescribable.

I don’t know if I’m upset, sad, scared, or nervous, but I feel like I want to scratch my skin off. I feel like I want to hide. And Doctor Hamilton doesn’t interrupt me at all. In fact, she lets me get it all out before she says a single word.

When she does speak, thankfully, she doesn’t judge what I’ve done, but she does express concern for my safety. I don’t know this man. I didn’t give him access to my life, and now he’s here. He’s in it, not just inside of my home and body, but he has a key to make himself at home any time he wishes, and she doesn’t think that’s healthy.

Boundaries.

That’s what I should have with him. And while I agree, I’m also not sure that Wells would accept a boundary he didn’t set himself.

ChapterTwenty-One

WELLS

Once I’ve gone home,showered, and changed, I head toward the club to wait. I know without a doubt that my dad will handle this here. It’s quiet today. There is nobody here, mainly because it’s not a scheduled meeting time.

We only bring in groups of men and women when we’re having a scheduled meeting. Otherwise, this place stays fairly empty.

Coleman is walking up to the door as soon as I park my car in my designated space. Only the director, executives and managers have designated parking. Everyone else is on their own. Throwing my car door open, I unfold from the seat and shove my phone into my pocket.

I jog toward my brother, and he stands to the side, his gaze following me as I approach. “Do you know what this is about?” he asks.

I shrug my shoulders. I want to tell him, but at the same time, I think it would be better if he didn’t know before it started. He’ll probably try and kill Uncle Dean right then and there, but I want to know exactly what Dad, the director, approves for something this big. Call me an asshole, but I want to watch it play out because it’s completely fucked up.

Walking into the club, I move through the halls until we reach the conference room. Dad is sitting at the head, and Uncle Dean is to his right.Fuck. Uncle Dean’s gaze meets mine, and I can see the tears in his eyes. Then he narrows them on me and curls his lip.

He’s pissed.

But I don’t give a fuck about that. He fucked the fuck up.

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