Page 27 of Fixation

ANDERSON

T he early evening has set over the city. On my way out of the hospital, fluorescent lights illuminate the halls. People’s chatter surrounds me. Some of them scream. Some cry.

“She’s unresponsive,” Dr. Peterson—one of the interns—says a little too loudly. “Let’s get her into the OR.”

They rush by me, the gurney wheels clattering on the linoleum floors.

Usually, I’d drop everything I was doing and throw myself into the surgery, whether they wanted me there or not. No matter when. No matter what.

I’d finish a twelve-hour shift like I just did now, and I’d still go in the OR with them.

The need to pay for my sins is a constant burn. An impulse.

This evening, and every evening since Harper has turned from my prey to my patient, my feet drag me in the other direction.

My heart hammers in its cage, restless and hopeful.

A strange sensation. I’ve learned to recognize it. Accept it. This insatiable need for Harper.

It hasn’t stopped in the last two days that I haven’t had her in my home.

Two days when no green eyes stared at me with a variety of emotions. Hurt, lust, hatred. Fear and gratitude.

Two days without tracing my fingers up her neck to her jaw and past her lips.

I miss owning her like that. Feeling her submit on instinct, not thought.

I miss shoving my cock in her mouth.

I miss her.

Every minute of every hour.

That’s a problem.

I’m supposed to be in control of the situation. I am.

Instead of reveling in how everything’s going according to plan, I’ve been this close to spiraling.

This.

Close.

Especially after she left me a note on her dining table that first night she’d been away from me.

On the same spot I’d organized her mail.

Thank you. Still hate you.

Lifting weights for two hours at home was the only thing that kept me there.

If not for that, I wouldn’t have been able to contain myself. I would’ve stormed into her house. I would’ve taken what was mine.

I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of watching her come undone.

The control I have over her gets me so fucking hard. She has no idea what I’ll do next. It brings out the most beautiful sides of her.

Knowing I might drop in at any time has to put her on edge. Before I left for work, I caught her on camera, looking over her shoulder again .

My girl, taunting me. Cowering from me.

Fuck, I love that.

After taking a quick shower then changing into a pair of jeans, T-shirt and a hoodie, I’m headed out. The doors to the hospital’s exit slide open when I reach them. Cool air welcomes me. No one stops me to ask about my cousin or any-fucking-thing.

I told Dr. Bennet that Harper was doing better and would be back in her apartment.

Hospital gossip travels fast, which was precisely what I’d hoped for.

For everyone to leave me alone.

My mind circles back to her as I cross the parking garage to my reserved spot.

She needs to want me. Crave me.

She does. But what’s missing is her fear. She isn’t scared enough.

A terrified woman wouldn’t have rubbed her pretty pussy in the shower the night after she was released from captivity.

I watched her. Fucked my fist to the livestream of her coming and shaking and crying out: Please, please, please .

Time to go home. Alone.

The Lexus’s lights blink when I click the fob. I throw my bag into the passenger seat and slide inside the car.

My secure phone lands on the console.

A notification flashes across the screen simultaneously.

I know who it is before I see the name.

Sergey: Today isn’t a good day to meet, either. Maybe tomorrow.

That prick. My hands react, balling into fists. The one holding the phone nearly breaks the fragile device.

Can’t have that happening. I need it to watch her.

Sergey will see me tonight, whether he likes it or not. If he won’t agree to my demands, well, that’s why I have my contingency plan.

He can let me live in peace, or he can die.

I want him dead. I want him and Stas to be my most brutal murders to date.

I roll my shoulders, cracking my neck to the left, then right.

Me: Stop fucking around. Give me a time and place. Now.

Sergey: You’re forgetting who you’re talking to.

Anger simmers beneath my skin. Low and consistent.

The underlying threat doesn’t scare me.

But Harper…

She’ll be my wife. I’ll take her out on dates. Walk in and out of our house through the front door and not the back like a fucking coward.

We won’t have that while he’s around.

My nerves are lit, my body soaked in adrenaline. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood on my tongue.

It does little to alleviate the bitter taste in my mouth. The murderous rage surging through my veins is unrelenting.

Me: You’re the one who’s forgetting who I am. What I can do to you. You should be fucking grateful that I’ve honored Dad’s agreement. When and where. Now.

Sergey: We’ll meet. Once your job is done.

Me: Not good enough.

Sergey: I’m out of town. You can visit me in Colombia. We have a spare room here in the mansion.

He could be lying for all I know. For years, Sergey has climbed the Bratva ladder by stepping on others. And by stepping on them, I mean killing them.

He might be lying. Might be out here.

My heart starts beating louder. A furious tempo takes over at the thought that he wouldn’t hesitate to kidnap Harper to keep me in line.

The rage in my bones is strong enough to crush him into dust.

Me: I’ll see you when you get back.

Sergey: Oh, you will.

I don’t care about him. The pressure that pushes against my ribs, it’s all her. Being without Harper is like missing a limb.

Worrying about her, that’s a whole other story. It transforms me into a violent beast. Clenched Jaw. A growl reverberating in my chest.

A glimpse of her sweet face, I need it.

I open the CCTV app, and immediately images of her home come up on my screen.

For the last two days, when she hasn’t been looking over her shoulder, Harper’s been spending hours in her studio. Back hunched over her workbench, her hands working diligently as she either sketches or melds metals together.

She’s been sketching. Hammering the pieces until she gets the texture she’s after. From her beautiful hands, she’s birthed necklaces, bracelets, and rings between bites of food.

That is, if she eats at all.

My girl forgets to eat when she’s working.

I should remind her of what happens when she neglects her own needs. For a bit longer, I’ll let her enjoy her false sense of freedom. Just before she realizes her life isn’t her own anymore.

It isn’t hers. It’s mine.

There you are, kitten . She’s in her home, out on the second-floor terrace. I can see her through the camera I installed on my terrace, the one next to hers.

A ballsy move on her part. Being so exposed. So close, I could show up there at any minute.

It’s a challenge. Or an olive branch.

A tease.

Come find me.

My cock thickens. Breathing grows shallow. Pride surges through me.

I did this to her. And her, sweet Harper, she has to hate herself for needing me.

I stroke my thumb over the screen, staring at this beautiful woman.

Her red hair is twisted into a messy bun I want to pull loose, strand by strand.

Her body, though it isn’t covered in my clothes, is just as gorgeous. She wears high-rise jeans and a black T-shirt.

Slender, overworked hands hold a mug between them.

String lights hang across the roof, the railing, the plants, bringing out the softness in Harper’s face. The effervescence of her.

A man like me should never even go near a woman like her.

I’m taking her, anyway.

I’m done waiting.

Tonight, I’ll rip each piece of clothing off her. Wind my fist in her hair.

Spread her legs. Pleasure her, then empty myself inside her pussy.

Love her so thoroughly she won’t remember how to exist without me.

I’ll fuck babies into her. Until her belly swells and the world knows she’s mine.

I’ll do all of that when she doesn’t have company.

Her friend Darla is there, in a black pantsuit matching her black hair. The thief has stolen my place by Harper’s side. Physically and emotionally.

They’re huddled one next to the other. Smiling. Talking.

Without ever noticing it, I’ve been leaning closer to my phone. My fingers twitch.

Theoretically, I could be there within the next twenty minutes. I’d sneak up behind them, hurl Darla over the railing and watch her spine crack.

There’d be no joy in the act. None whatsoever.

It’d be a necessity.

That way, I could have Harper all to myself.

Except—no. Harper will forgive me for many things. She’s shown me that already, even if she refuses to admit it.

She hasn’t gone to the police. She left me that note. Thanked me in person.

The basement changed her. Changed me. That was sacred.

However, murdering her childhood friend won’t fly.

No matter how many days I lock her up in my basement.

Not that I’m opposed to kidnapping her for the rest of her life.

Our future children, though, they’d need both their mother and sunlight.

Since getting rid of her friend is out of the question, I do the next best thing.

I turn up the volume and eavesdrop on their conversation.

“God, that was awkward.” Harper’s nose twitches. Her hand rises to her hair. I raise mine in the car, pretending to be the one tucking the wayward lock behind her ear. “The email he sent me. He demanded that I go out on a date with him. Demanded! Like I didn’t have any other choice.”

The phone was in danger of splitting in half before.

Now? He ?

Hearing Harper talk about some other man demanding her to date him, it’s about to be crushed into a million tiny pieces.

I haven’t noticed anything unusual happening over the past two days.

No men leaving flowers on her doorstep. No phone calls to disturb her.

The emails, though. I haven’t taken those into account.

I’ll be smarter next time.

Needing to hear her better, I shove my earbuds into my ears.