Page 16

16

REMY

I pace the carnival grounds, my boots kicking up dust with each agitated step. The evening air does nothing to cool my racing thoughts. Two days. Two days of knowing she’s there, waiting in my space, driving me to distraction.

A group of workers call out greetings, but I barely acknowledge them with a nod. My mind keeps drifting back to my trailer, to Eden on that thin mattress I put on the floor. The distance I’m keeping is calculated torture for both of us.

I turn toward my trailer again and then force my feet in the opposite direction. The need to return, to watch her squirm with anticipation, pulls at me, but I can’t give in to my urges, not yet. Her desperation needs to build until she breaks.

Through my surveillance cameras, I’ve watched her exploring the confined space, testing boundaries. She traces her fingers over my belongings when she thinks I’m not watching. Her frustrated sighs when hours pass without my return.

I smirk, remembering how she jumped when I entered unexpectedly last night, hope and fear warring in her eyes. I’d dropped off food and left again, savoring her disappointed exhale.

The metal steps of the Ferris wheel provide a perfect vantage point to watch the sunset and get my head straight. Being in my own space has become impossible. The knowledge that she’s there, so close, just a few feet from my bed...

But she’s not ready. She’s not broken enough. Not desperate enough to truly submit. When I finally give her what she wants, it will be on my terms after I’ve stripped away every last shred of control she thinks she has.

I pull out my phone, checking the feed again. She’s curled up on the mattress, staring at my bed longingly. Good. Let her want. Let her need. Let her madness build until she can’t take it anymore.

I’m halfway to my trailer again when Lars’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Hey, Remy! I need your help with these stalls.”

Thank fuck. Something to do with my hands. I change direction, heading toward where Lars is struggling with some warped boards on one of the game booths.

“These fucking things won’t stay straight,” Lars grunts, throwing me a hammer. “Hold this end while I nail it down.”

We work in companionable silence for a few minutes before Lars’s mouth twitches into a knowing smirk. “So, the podcaster keeping you busy?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, adjusting my grip on the board.

“Just saying, man. You’ve been pacing around here like a caged animal. Never seen you this worked up over a piece of ass before.”

I shoot him a dark look. “Rich coming from you. How’s that whole puppy dog routine working out with Alice? Still following her around with your tongue hanging out?”

Lars’s hammer misses the nail, nearly catching his thumb. “Fuck you.”

“Keep your thoughts to yourself then,” I say, but there’s no real heat. We’ve known each other too long for genuine offense.

“At least I’m not keeping Alice locked up in a trailer,” Lars counters with a laugh.

I can’t argue with Lars’s point, so I just grunt and focus on holding the board steady. Eden’s different because she was already mine before I kidnapped her. Her obsession with me proves it. Those photos she took, the journal entries describing her warped fantasies about me, the way she broke into my trailer...

“At least I didn’t have to chase mine down,” I say finally, unable to resist jabbing back. “Eden came to me. Practically gift-wrapped herself.”

Lars snorts but doesn’t respond, probably remembering how hard he had to pursue Alice. The guy fucking chased her on his motorcycle across town and followed her into a goddamn library, for fuck’s sake.

The board finally cooperates, and Lars steps back, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Still. Keeping her locked up? That’s some next-level shit, even for you.”

I shrug, running my fingers over the fresh nails to ensure they’re flush. “She’s exactly where she wants to be. You should see how she looks at me when I come in like I’m everything she’s ever wanted.” I clear my throat. “Plus, until we know why she’s snooping around, having her off a leash is unsafe.”

And it’s true. Even bound and confined, Eden’s eyes follow my every move with naked hunger. There’s no fear there. She chose this path when she stalked me, documenting my every move. Now, she’s living out her darkest fantasy.

“Whatever you say, man.” Lars shakes his head.

Nash approaches his usual graceful swagger on full display. “You two look productive,” Nash says, leaning against the booth. “Though I heard you’ve been wearing a path in the grass, Remy. Trouble focusing?”

I flip him off without looking up. “How’s the happy throuple? Still playing house with your little bird and the hothead?”

Nash’s smile doesn’t falter. “Flora’s teaching Colt to cook. It’s interesting. Pretty sure we’ll need an upgraded kitchen soon.”

“Better than you in the kitchen,” Lars snorts. “Remember when you nearly burned down your trailer trying to make pasta?”

“That was one time,” Nash protests. “And Flora loves having two men to take care of.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, we all know how that works. You do the laundry while Colt does the heavy lifting.”

“Says the man who’s been circling his trailer five times a day to avoid going inside it,” Nash shoots back.

Lars barks out a laugh. “He’s got you there.”

“At least I didn’t spend two weeks stalking a girl,” I say to Lars before turning to Nash. “Or write poetry about Flora’s eyes.”

“That was private,” Nash hisses, color rising in his cheeks. “And Colt helped write it.”

“Of course he did,” Lars and I say in unison.

I lean against the booth. “At least Lars finally got his girl. Never thought I’d see the day when Alice would tame your crazy ass.”

Lars’s face softens. “She’s something else. Called me an asshole three times this morning before kissing me goodbye.”

“That’s love right there.” Nash chuckles. “Though not as entertaining as Flora making Colt do yoga with her. You should see him trying to bend into those positions.”

“Better than you two enabling her video game addiction,” Lars shoots back. “How many hours did you lose to that new game last week?”

Nash shrugs. “Flora kicks our asses every time, but watching Colt rage quit is worth it.”

“Alice wants to host a dinner party,” Lars says. “Says we need to be more social.”

“Domestic bliss looks good on you,” I tease, dodging the hammer he throws my way. “Never thought I’d see the day when the big bad biker would be picking out tablecloths.”

“Says the man with a podcaster locked in his trailer,” Lars counters. “At least Alice chose to move in with me.”

“Eden stalked me, not the other way around,” I growl. “And I don’t know if I’m keeping her.”

Nash raises an eyebrow.

“Different strokes,” Lars says, then grins. “Speaking of strokes...”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I warn, but I’m fighting back a smile. These idiots might give me shit, but they’re happy and found their matches in women who can handle their particular brands of crazy.

I watch Nash and Lars bicker about their domestic lives, their happiness evident despite their attempts to maintain their tough exteriors. Something twists in my chest, not jealousy, but recognition. They’ve found women who match them, who can handle their obsessions and possessive natures.

My thoughts drift back to Eden. Her collection of killer memorabilia and that journal filled with fantasies.

Eden’s obsession with me mirrors my own growing fixation with her. She’s not just another problem to solve or a loose end to tie up. She sees my darkness and wants to understand every facet of it.

Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Eden’s not just a stalker who needs to be contained—she might embody exactly what I’ve been avoiding all these years.