Page 56 of Replacement

His expression twists, like it takes an internal battle, but he puts an arm around me and guides me out of the park and onto the city sidewalk.

I have no idea if Montaigne follows or not. I don’t dare to look.

To my relief, William doesn’t try interrogating me on the walk back. We make it to our building. Then to the private elevator. When the doors shut, I close my eyes and lean back against the wall with a helpless whimper.

I’d thought it was over. I’d hoped I was safe.

But it will never be over.

I’m back where I was a few months ago, trapped behind walls, unable to walk freely in the world for fear of being watched.

For fear of soon being harmed or killed.

Everything changed for me, but then nothing changed at all.

“Sweetheart, please.” William’s voice rasps. He puts an arm around me and pulls me against him as the elevator ascends floors. “Tell me what’s going on. I’m seriously about to lose it.”

I can’t make my voice work. I can’t stop shaking. I hide my face in his shirt for the minute it takes us to reach our floor.

I barely register stepping off the elevator into our entryway. I’m pretty sure I slide off my shoes automatically and let my purse slide onto the floor beside me.

With a hand on my back, William guides me into the media room and helps me sit on the couch. I fold my body up so I’m hugging my legs and let my teeth chatter again.

William sits beside me and waits for a minute until my shivering has lessened. Then I’m finally able to focus on his face.

He’s sweating visibly. His jaw and shoulders are tense. His brown eyes are wildly urgent.

I have to tell him soon—now—or I’m half-convinced he’ll literally explode.

“I…” I take a ragged breath that hurts my throat and push through. “I used to have a stalker.”

He blinks. “A stalker. When?”

I open my mouth and realize my dilemma. If I tell him the accurate timeline, then all my lies will come out. “A… a while back. He wouldn’t stop. I tried reporting him, but he has friends in the department and labeled me a nut. I tried moving. Twice. He always found me. I thought—coming here, I thought I’d finally shaken him. But… but…”

William sucks in a long, sharp breath through his teeth. “He was in the park? Just now?”

I nod, trembling again and then finally starting to cry.

“What does he look like?”

It’s not the question I expect, and it’s easier to answer than the more predictable queries. “He’s about five eleven. In his thirties. Wire glasses with a receding hairline.”

“What was he wearing today? Did you notice?”

I nod, blinking away tears. “Khakis and a blue shirt unbuttoned over a T-shirt.”

“Is it all right if I step out for just a minute? It won’t be long.”

I have no idea what’s happening here, but I nod anyway. He can do anything he wants. Just his being here when I need him is more than I ever prayed for before.

He strokes my face. Then closes his fingers around a bunch of my hair and slides it down the length of it as he stands up. “I’ll be close.”

I sit huddled up on the couch as he walks out of the media room and into the hallway. I don’t know how far he goes, but it can’t be far because I can hear the low murmur of his voice and occasionally catch words.

He’s on the phone. Giving instructions to someone. Telling them to search the park and around our building for someone matching the description I gave him. Then he gives more instructions—about ramping up our security. Getting a regular rotation of bodyguards.

For me.

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