Page 27

Max

The second the door had closed between me and Connor as I walked into my office Monday morning, my entire body slumped against the wall, heart hammering.

How did I get here? How did I end up tangled in bed for a second time with the man who had so openly admitted to stalking me.

Not only that, I asked him to fucking stay? I was losing my mind, and yet I felt like I’d finally come to life.

I stared at my phone, groaning when I noticed the ten missed calls and countless texts from Lara.

I’d completely forgotten that I had abruptly hung up on her when I found Connor waiting for me in my apartment.

Knowing her, she probably thought I’d been kidnapped or murdered, and considering I’d just told her that Connor was in fact, my stalker, that wasn’t the most irrational fear.

Quickly clicking on the call button, I cringed as she answered immediately, her voice a shrill mix of panic and irritation.

“Jesus Christ, Max! Where the hell have you been?”

Lara shouted, nearly blowing out my eardrum.

“I thought you were kidnapped, murdered, or worse – ghosting me.

The only reason I didn’t send out a fucking search party is because I checked your location and saw you were at home.”

I snorted, shaking my head.

“Ghosting you would definitely be worse than murder.

Sorry, Lara things got… weird last night.”

She paused.

“Define weird.”

I hesitated, rubbing my temples.

“Connor was waiting for me when I got home.”

She gasped dramatically, then squealed.

“Mr stalker? Mr sexy stalker?”

I laughed softly, oh if only she knew.

“The very one.”

Lara was quiet for exactly two seconds before the interrogation began.

“So was he like, at your door, all brooding and serious?”

Fuck.

I couldn’t say he wasn’t sat at my door; he was actually inside my apartment, waiting for me like he knew exactly when I’d be home.

She’d be calling me fucking crazy, she’d call an intervention.

“Yeah, I’d told him I was almost home and then he was there when I arrived.”

“Did you have hot raunchy sex?”

She shrieked, giggling like a maniac.

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress my smile.

“Yes, Lara, we fucked.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“Why are you not happier about this? Was it bad? Did he fuck and run?”

“No, definitely not bad, and he didn’t fuck and run,”

I admitted quietly.

Memories of his bruising kisses and possessive touch flashed vividly through my mind, sending heat pooling in my core, despite the sting that still lingered on my now bruised ass.

“If anything, it was… too good.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“He’s just… intense,”

I said carefully, biting my lip.

“Very intense.”

“Like, Fifty Shades intense, or serial killer intense?”

Lara laughed jokingly, but a chill ran down my spine regardless.

Little did she know how close to home that statement actually was.

“More like You intense,”

I joked back weakly, forcing a laugh, trying to shake of the uneasy feeling clawing at the edges of my mind.

“Anyway, can we talk about this later? I’ve got a ton of paperwork to catch up on.”

“Ugh fine,”

Lara huffed dramatically.

“Boring ass, love you, byeeeeeee”

“Love you too, Lar.”

I responded with a heavy sigh.

I spent the week completely wrapped up in Connor.

Our texts became constant – flirtatious banter, teasing sarcasm, and late-night sexting that left me flushed and desperate.

‘If I had a dollar for every time some fuckwit called in asking if I knew their password, I swear I’d be a billionaire.’

I chuckled to myself, responding back quickly:

Well, if I had a dollar every time some fucking old creep stared at me like I was a piece of meat, I’d also be a billionaire.’

I watched the little three dots appear then disappear constantly, painfully waiting for his reply.

He made my work days so much more bearable when we spent the days complaining about assholes that we encountered.

‘I really hope that was a joke Maxine, because I don’t want to have to come down there and teach everybody in that building who you fucking belong to.’

My cheeks flushed as I pressed my thighs together to ignore the sensation that was building down there.

Fuck.

His possessiveness really should terrify me, but the thought of him teaching another man a lesson for leering at me sent my temperature running hot.

‘Calm down stalker, they only look, never touch.

My body is yours.’

That small confession at the end of the text made me instantly regret pressing send.

Did I just tell him that my body was his? Jesus Christ, kill me now.

‘That’s my girl.’

I smiled like an idiot despite myself, deciding to quickly place my phone in my desk drawer before I said anymore stupid shit.

Every morning, we’d sit at Melinda’s together, sipping coffee, lost in conversation about everything and nothing.

I’d never laughed as freely as I did with him, and I’d certainly never felt so seen.

Connor seemed genuinely interested in me – not just my body or looks – but me.

It was refreshing, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once.

We had to skip our evening coffee dates, apparently work was in overdrive at the minute and he wasn’t finishing until late, sometimes midnight.

I’d never had a man communicate with me the way Connor did.

I was used to being told the bare minimum, being ignored, ghosted.

But Connor kept me constantly updated, letting me know when he couldn’t be there, and letting me know why, occasionally sending those black roses to my door.

It was like a breath of fresh air.

But despite the open communication, I couldn’t shake the unease the lingered, he was still hiding so much, he had known exactly where I worked without me telling him.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, he was a fucking stalker after all.

But despite the fact I knew that he had stalked me, my instincts screamed at me to just stay cautious.

How much did this man truly know about me? How deep did his stalking go? I was almost ninety percent sure I hadn’t left my door unlocked when I left for the weekend, but how else would he have gotten in? And how did he know when I was going to get back? All of these questions should have had me running as far away from this man as I could possibly get.

But every touch, every whispered word and heated glance he gave me, he managed to shatter my defences a little more.

Friday came around quicker than expected thanks to Connor, bringing with it an unexpected visit to the office.

I was hunched over my desk, sorting through the endless paperwork that seemed to multiply daily, when the main door swung open, and a wave of tension swept through the room, everybody going deathly silent.

I popped my head out of my office door and watched as two police officers stepped inside the building.

My heart leaped into my throat, sweat instantly forming on my palms.

The tall, broad shouldered one with dark hair swept his gaze over to me, before resuming glancing around the rest of the room.

My pulse quickened, my body going rigid with panic.

Fuck.

“Good afternoon,”

the shorter of the two officers said.

I forced myself to stay calm as I watched him speak, holding my composure.

“We just have a few routine questions,”

he continued “no need to stop working, we’re simply following some leads.”

I sank back into my office, falling into my chair.

I pretended to focus on my paperwork, listening intently as they spoke quietly with my supervisor just outside my office door.

I caught snippets – words like ‘disappearances,’ ‘connections,’ and ‘tapes.’ Each word sending my heart rate skyrocketing.

It felt like an eternity before they finally turned and left, only taking a brief look into my office on the way out.

Only after the door closed did I let myself truly breathe, leaning heavily against my desk.

This was getting dangerous – too dangerous.

I glanced at the clock, desperate to leave.

I needed to think, needed space.

I felt the walls closing in on me slowly, feeling like I was being suffocated.

By the time 3pm arrived, I practically ran from the office, desperate for air, desperate to clear my head.

I sat in Melinda’s Café, nursing my coffee, lost in thought.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Mel’s hand gently touched my shoulder.

“Goodness, Maxine, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She smiled gently, her concern evident.

I sighed deeply, “Close enough.

The police visited my office today.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Is everything okay?”

“I think so.

Just routine questions, something about murders.”

I murmured, sipping my coffee, the bitter warmth calming my nerves slightly.

“Just made me a bit jumpy, is all.”

She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Well, nothing like coffee and carbs to fix that.

I’ll bring you a pastry.”

“Thanks, Mel.”

I forced a smile, and as she walked away, I heard the café door bell chime.

Connor stepped inside, his dark eyes instantly locking onto mine.

My stomach clenched, both with excitement and concern.

He wasn’t supposed to be seeing me tonight, he said he was busy with work.

He gave me his signature smirk, effortlessly charming and utterly infuriating.

He slid into the chair across from me, resting his chin in his hands, watching me intently.

“You look troubled sweetheart,”

he murmured quietly, observing my expression carefully.

“Rough day?”

I gave him a half assed smile.

“Why are you here, I thought you were swamped with work?”

He smirked again.

“Yeah, well, seeing you just once a day wasn’t satisfying my stalker needs, you know?”

A laugh slipped from my lips, finding myself glad he was sitting across from me right now.

“So?”

I hesitated.

I wanted to tell him, but how much could I share? “Police turned up at my office today,”

I said quietly, watching his expression carefully.

His jaw tightened briefly, but he masked it quickly.

“What for?”

“Routine check, something about murders, so they say,”

I mumbled, my gaze dropping.

Connor reached across the table, gently squeezing my hand, calming the storm raging inside me insanely.

His touch was electric, both reassuring and dangerous.

I stared up into those beautifully dark eyes, wondering how someone who once terrified me could now feel like my safest haven.

“You’re safe, Max,”

he said softly, his voice holding a protective edge.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Little did he know, it wasn’t the murderer I had to be afraid of, I knew her quite well.

I nodded slowly, squeezing his hand back, silently accepting his comfort.

But deep down, a small whisper reminded me to not trust anyone – not even Connor.

Because in the twisted little game I was playing, I learnt that danger hid in the people I least excepted.