Page 48 of Forget Me Not

I eat up the space between us. “Go out there and tell him good night.” My hands drag down her shivering arms. “Then I’ll give you real sounds of ecstasy instead of the fake ones you speak of.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Fuck no. I don’t want to be anywhere near you. But I do want my damn purse back.”

Ignoring her request for her purse, which I do have, I say, “That’s a shame because I’m not going anywhere. Now go tell yourfriendgood night, or I’ll be forced to tell him who Rhea Brooks really is.”

“Alaric.” Her voice cracks. “Please don’t do this.”

“Trust me, Rhea. It’s for Tyler’s own good. If you care about him at all, you’ll stay far away from him, and any other guys for that matter.”

She swallows hard before lifting her eyes to mine. “This won’t last. Eventually, I will free myself from the hold you have over me. No one tries to control me and gets away with it.” Her defiant eyes remind me I have limited time to make this plan work. If I can’t convince her that she was made for me soon, she will find a way to run.

Walking past me, she goes to the door and pulls it open. Once it’s closed behind her, I take a seat on her bed and smile, pleased with myself. “I’ve been controlling your movements for a while now; you just didn’t know it then.”

ChapterSixteen

RHEA

After a lotof convincing that Alaric wasn’t a threat, Tyler left. I lied and told him I was tired and planned to go to sleep. I also kicked Alaric out of my room—literally. I had to force him out using all my strength. In the end, he blew me a kiss as I shoved the door closed in his face.

I didn’t sleep well. I’m almost positive he sat outside my door all night. I could see his shadow and hear the sounds of him walking. Then, it would grow silent, and there would be a pressure against my door, making it look like it was about to cave in on itself, which led me to believe he was leaning against it.

To say I’m freaked out is an understatement. I’ve been trying to reach Dex, but I get no answer. I’ve left him a dozen whispered messages because I knew Alaric was listening. I’m starting to get worried that something’s wrong with him. It’s not like him to ignore my calls.

Regardless of what’s going on with Alaric, I still have to go to work today. It’s not fair to Taryn if I call in, and I can’t hide away forever. Or at all, for that matter. Besides, I said I wouldn’t let him control me. I can’t let him win.

Instead, I’m going to face this shithead head-on and bide my time until Dex tells me where the hell I should go next. The idea of fleeing this town hurts more than it should. When I do leave, I can never be myself again. I’ll forever live in hiding because I have no doubt Alaric will never stop trying to find me. With the money and resources he must have, I’m scared running might not even be enough at this point.

I grab my apron off my dresser and freeze when I see my purse lying beside it. Taking a step back, I pick it up while pinching the zipper with the tips of my fingers, inspecting it like it’s coated in fentanyl.

This wasn’t here last night when I laid down, and my door was locked all night. So how the hell did Alaric get into my room to leave it on my dresser?

Does he have a key to my room? Of course he does! Son of a bitch!

I quickly unzip my purse and shuffle around the few items inside. Not the least bit surprised, my keys are gone. There were only two—one for the front door and one for my room. I’ve been leaving my room door unlocked the last couple days, and I’ve been fortunate enough to not need it to get into the house itself by making sure to come and go when Gladys is knitting.

That asshole! Now I’m going to have to ask Gladys to change the lock on my door.

With my purse and apron in hand, I storm out of my room, smacking face first into, none other than, Alaric.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Move it, Jerkface! I need to go to work.”

“No ‘thank you’ for returning your purse?” he coos, as if I should be bowing at his feet for returning something he took.

“You stole my purse. Then you stole my damn keys. Then you broke into my room last night. I’m not thanking you for shit.”

“Actually,” he begins, pointing a finger in the air like some sort of pompous asshole. “You left your purse in my car. My car that you willingly got into. Anything after that was your fault.”

“My fault?” I wheeze. “My fucking fault? You drugged me!”

He shrugs his shoulders causally. “You shouldn’t have gotten in a car with a stranger. Let it be a lesson.”

“The only lesson I’m learning in all of this is self-restraint.”

“Why’s that?” He slithers up to me, his side brushing against mine as I try to leave for work. “Is the temptation as real for you as it is for me?”

I scoff, lip curled in disgust. “If by temptation you mean the urge to murder you, then yes.”

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