Page 31 of Sacred Vow

Logging into the system, I find the perfect view of the street outside Tilly’s building, the underground parking garage, and the hallway just outside her door.

My curiosity to see inside her home is a feeling I’ve never encountered before, but these angles outside her home are what I’m most interested in.

I need to see who’s coming and going, who has access to her home, and who the hell she spends her time with.

Taking a quick glance at the rest of the surveillance feed, I find two more cameras.

One that captures both her living room and kitchen, and the other of her bedroom, which brings me pause.

When I was locked up for the better part of a decade, I met a lot of fucked-up men, and it occurs to me that a lot of those assholes were in there for a lot less than what I’m doing right now.

It’s official. I’m a fucking creep.

Tilly should be filing for a restraining order. If she knew just how messed up I was, she’d be wise to run the other way.

My home security tells me that Zeph and Tilly have only just left my place, and I won’t lie, they both have a major assessment this week, so neither of them should be sleeping in until after lunch and wasting the day away, classes or not.

I’ve seen Tilly’s grades in her background check.

She’s absolutely fine, but my son could use all the study time he can get his hands on.

Barely fifteen minutes after they leave my home, I get a notification for a large truck pulling up outside Tilly’s apartment complex, and I’m just about to shrug it off when Zeph’s Range Rover pulls in behind it, and I realize this must be the delivery of Tilly’s new couch.

I shake my head. This isn’t exactly the time frame I insisted my son work with regarding this particular couch, but at least he followed through. Mostly.

Tilly and Zeph climb out of the Range Rover, and while Tilly heads up to her apartment and starts trying to drag the remains of her old couch into the corner of the living room, Zeph remains with the delivery driver, giving instructions before helping with the heavy lifting.

The couch is brought right to the door, and as it’s placed down in the middle of the hallway and they start figuring out a game plan to get it through the door, I notice Zeph staring straight up at the hidden camera in the hallway.

To anyone who didn’t know what they were looking for, they’d never notice the surveillance camera on the fly, but not Zeph. Despite his carefree, moronic nature, he’s got one hell of a head on his shoulders. Not to mention, my home is flooded with this type of hardware, so he’s more than familiar.

They get the couch inside the apartment, and as the delivery driver works on removing the old, broken pieces of the sofa, Zeph discreetly fires off a quick text.

It comes through to my phone only a second later.

Zeph: Why?

Hesitation flickers through my veins, and for a moment, I consider not responding at all, feigning any kind of involvement in this, but that shit wouldn’t fly with Zephyr.

He’s a smart kid. His only problem is that his heart gets in the way.

He’d let the wrong woman destroy him given the chance.

Point being, he’d see straight through my shit.

“Ahh, shit,” I mutter to myself before letting my thumbs sweep across the screen as I type out a response.

Besides, if Tilly really is going to be spending a lot of her foreseeable future with my son, then it’s in his best interest to know exactly what’s going on with this asshole on the internet.

If it comes down to it, and he needs to step in to protect her life, he’ll be prepared.

Caesar: I looked into that creep online. Trust me, surveillance is necessary. I’ll tell you what you need to know tonight.

Zeph: Fuck. Does Tilly need to know?

Caesar: I have it handled. She’s safe. There’s no need to have her scared in her own home. This is just cautionary.

Zeph: Thanks for having her back.

If only the kid knew what else I have of hers.

I’m not looking forward to the moment he figures it out, and he will.

It’s inevitable. Tilly isn’t the type to shy away from the truth.

She’s not going to voluntarily give it out, but if she’s asked point-blank, she’ll be honest with him.

Only when that time comes, I can safely assume that my son and I are bound to have more than just a few words.

Truth be told, I feel there’s already a clock on their sexual relationship. I could feel it in the air last night. There was a shift in Tilly’s energy toward Zeph. I think their friendship is solid, but perhaps something is starting to change in their sexual relationship.

If I were a betting man, I’d put it all down to the conversation about Jordan and how he approached Tilly on the street.

I was disappointed in Zeph’s response. He was too quick to question Tilly’s version of events, and she more than noticed.

But I can’t blame him. What Tilly was describing didn’t sound like the friend Zeph has always cared for.

It’s only natural to feel uneasy about the situation and have questions.

I’ve always found Jordan to be strange, but I didn’t have him pegged as the type to approach women on the street and demand sexual favors. Maybe it’s time I had a chat with Jordan and let him know exactly what his life might look like if he continues treating women the way he does.

Either way, I think the whole situation left Tilly wondering what kind of man Zeph truly is.

If he’s the type to ask a woman what she was wearing after being assaulted, or if he’s the man who’s going to throw down and protect her with his life.

While I know exactly who my son is, it might take a minute for Tilly to understand and trust him the way that I do.

Knowing Zeph’s got an eye on her, I exit out of my surveillance app and get back to work, letting thoughts of online stalkers fall from my head.

By the time the end of the day has rolled around, I’m back in the comfort of my own home, lounging in my outdoor entertaining unit and watching the world pass by. But with the silence of the night and work far from my mind, those treacherous thoughts of Tilly have more than resurfaced.

I lift my glass to my lips, and despite knowing how I should be putting distance between us and allowing her to move far away from a man like me, I find myself pulling out my phone and opening a new text.

Caesar: Your video has been scrubbed off the internet. It shouldn’t be a problem anymore.

Her response comes almost instantly.

Tilly: Holy shit! Thank you. You have no idea how much of a relief that is. Did you happen to figure out who the infamous Vag Destroyer is?

Caesar: Nothing on his identity, but he’s also been handled. For now. There’s no stopping a man like that. He’ll pop back up, and when he does, his ego will be bruised. Watch your back with that one. Be careful.

Tilly: I will.

Tilly: What are you doing?

A million different responses pop into my head, each one of them more vile than the last, and has everything to do with explicit positions I want to put this girl into, but in the spirit of being on my best behavior, I go with a safe reply.

Caesar: Nothing, hellcat. Just rolled a joint.

Tilly: Was it your ankle?

I stare at her message, unable to believe what the hell she just said to me. My fucking ankle? I’ll have her know that there’s not a damn thing wrong with my ankle. I’m in better shape than every fucking college douchebag she’s ever given that sweet little pussy to, and she knows it.

Unable to help myself, I open my surveillance app and find Tilly in her apartment. She’s in bed, lying on her stomach with her blankets barely covering her ass, kicking her legs like a fucking giddy child as she stares down at her phone, and damn it, the sight has something softening in my chest.

Tilly: Oh shit. I’m in trouble, aren’t I?

Caesar: It’s past your bedtime. Go to sleep before I’m forced to punish you.

Tilly shuffles around on her bed, putting herself on her back, and when her hand slips between her creamy thighs, I grow rock hard in my pants.

Tilly: Punish me how exactly? I’m going to need explicit details. And don’t you dare hold back.

So much for putting distance between us. I’m a goner. This little she-devil has me by the fucking balls. And with that, I type out my response, telling her precisely how I’d punish that sweet little cunt and just how hard I intend to do it.