Page 12 of Stalked By the Intern

"Are you even listening to me?" Richard demands, his anger swelling as my silence stretches on. He leans forward, his face a mask of disgust, expecting, no—demanding—a response.

But what can I say? That every moment away from her feels like an eternity? That the thought of her is a relentless tide, washing over me, pulling me under?

"Answer me!" he roars, the sound ricocheting off the walls of his plush office—a lion in his den.

I remain quiet, my resolve ironclad. Confession would be futile, an admission of guilt that I refuse to grant him. My silence is my fortress, impenetrable and defiant.

Richard's face reddens, the muscles in his jaw twitching. I've unsettled him, unbalanced the scales of power in this game we're playing. The predator has met the gaze of his prey, only to find it unflinching.

He searches my face for a hint of remorse, a sliver of shame. But there is none. Only the dark pull of desire, the sweet siren song that is Willow. She is the sun, and I am helplessly locked in her orbit, even if it burns me alive.

"Damn you," he hisses, his rage a palpable force filling the room. But it's just noise, a distant thunderclap that can't reach me. My thoughts are consumed by her, every fiber of my being screaming her name in a silent prayer.

"Get out," he finally commands, his voice low, a lethal calm settling over him.

I rise, the chair rolling back with a soft whisper against the carpet. Our eyes lock, two wills clashing in the silence of the room. I turn toward the door, each step measured, deliberate.

Even now, as I walk away, she's all I see—the haunting echo of her smile, the memory of her scent. Richard's warnings are but shadows at the edge of my vision, insignificant and fleeting.

Outside, the world is bright and chaotic, a stark contrast to the darkness that coils within me. But amidst the uncertainty, one thing remains clear—my longing for Willow, undimmed and unyielding.

My footsteps echo in the empty lobby, a hollow reminder of the void that's threatening to consume me. The pristine marble floors, once symbols of ambition and success, now feel cold and mocking under my feet. I'm numb, yet every nerve ending sings with a raw desperation for her.

I pass the reception desk, the usual buzz of activity now a hushed murmur, as if the world knows it should tread lightly around me—around the chaos that's brewing just beneath my surface. The revolving door is ahead, freedom or prison. I can't decide which.

Outside, the city air bites at my skin, a stark contrast to the sanitized climate I've left behind. It reeks of exhaust and promises broken on the pavement. My heart hammers against my ribs, a relentless drum beating out the rhythm of my obsession.

Willow's face flickers behind my eyelids, her blue eyes oceans I'm drowning in. The thought of being severed from her, from the pulse of her existence that has somehow become mine, is unbearable. Richard's words are barbs under my skin, but they don't deter me. They can't. Because what's a life without Willow? A barren wasteland—a desolate expanse where hope withers and dies.

The skyscrapers loom above, indifferent titans casting long shadows over my form. People swarm around me, each locked in their own orbits, ignorant of the maelstrom churning within me. They don't see the dangerous currents pulling at my sanity, don't know how close I am to capsizing in the tempest of my longing for her.

I shove my hands into my pockets, finding a temporary refuge for the tremors that threaten to betray my composure. The street stretches out, an endless stream of possibilities, but only one path is etched in my mind.

Richard's words echo in my head. Stay away from Willow.

"Impossible," I murmur to no one, a vow etched in the steel of my soul. Even as the warning rings in my ears, Willow's allure is something I'm powerless to resist. She's the flame, and I'm willingly burnt to ashes time and again, just to bask in her warmth.

The chapter of my life that unfolded within the walls of that law firm ends as I step onto the sidewalk, the lines of my future blurring and twisting into something unrecognizable. Richard's threat hangs over me like the blade of Damocles, poised and ready to sever all that I've worked for.

But the embers of my fixation on Willow glow hotter, deep in the recesses of my being. They're coals that refuse to be stamped out, fanned into an inferno by the very thought of her smile, her touch—the intoxicating essence of her.

Walking away from the towering edifice of the law firm, I'm haunted by the certainty of two things: my career teeters on a knife-edge, and my desire for Willow Hartley remains, an indelible mark scorched into my flesh.

No warning, no threat, no force on earth can quell the tempest she's awakened in me.

And so I walk, each step a silent oath that Iwillhave her, consequences be damned.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Andy

In the dead of night,I can see Willow Hartley's soft snores filling the room, her little chest rising and falling softly. My heart races at the thought of being this close to her. I slide the knife quietly open, my breath catching as I move toward her bedroom window. Gripping the sill tightly, I push it up and climb inside with ease. The floorboards creak beneath my weight, but I hold my breath, glancing around to ensure she doesn't wake. I've done this before—broken into her home, stolen glimpses of her life when she wasn't looking. But tonight is different. Tonight, I need more than just a fleeting glance.

Her scent fills my senses—vanilla and flowers, the same perfume she always wears. It's intoxicating, consuming me completely. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I watch her sleep, wondering how she can look so angelic even with the deep lines of stress etched onto her forehead from studying all day.

Her body stirs in her sleep, and I swallow hard, unable to tear my gaze away from her. My fingers tremble as I sneak inside, every nerve on edge.

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