Page 8 of Trained In Sin

Saphy

The Sun is filtering through the gaps in my curtains by the time I physically drag myself out of bed.

I'm exhausted, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, imagining shadows outside my window.

The rational part of my brain knows I'm being paranoid, but another part keeps whispering that Sebastian Blackwood has been stood outside of my window all night.

Standing under the shower, I try to wash away the anxiety that clings to me like a second skin. Today will be better. It has to be. Surely Blackwood has moved on to his next obsession by now. Men like him have short attention spans, right?

The tube is crowded as usual, but today the press of bodies makes me feel trapped rather than anonymous.

I catch myself scanning faces, looking for his bodyguard, Mountain Man, or anyone else who might be watching me.

Every man in a suit becomes a potential threat.

Every glance in my direction feels loaded with hidden meaning.

Get a grip, Saphy. The world doesn't revolve around you, and Sebastian Blackwood certainly has better things to do than stalk a junior editor.

At the office, I bury myself in work, grateful for the distraction.

The riverside development project needs reviewing before it moves up the chain, and I throw myself into it with excessive focus.

Hours pass without me noticing, until my phone alarm reminds me, I’m meant to be meeting Beth in ten minutes.

"I'm heading out for lunch," I announce to Miranda, who's spent all morning asking not so subtle questions about Backwoods visit. "Want anything?"

"No thanks," she replies, watching me a little too closely. "Want some company? I can take mine now if you want?”

I force a smile. "I’m good, thanks.” I couldn’t think of anything worse. “I’m meeting a friend.”

*

Outside, the spring air is mild, the streets busy with lunchtime crowds.

The bistro is only a block away, but the walk feels endless.

That prickling sensation returns, the feeling of being watched.

I glance over my shoulder twice, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Just normal people going about their normal lives.

You're being ridiculous, I scold myself. You're not important enough to warrant surveillance.

But I can't shake the feeling. Even as I walk in to meet Beth, I find myself scanning the café, checking reflections in the windows, looking for anyone suspicious.

I love the place I’m meeting her. It's halfway between our offices, a place we've been going to for years. Familiar. Safe. Exactly what I need today .

Beth is already at our usual table, waving enthusiastically when she spots me.

"You look like shit," she says by way of greeting.

"Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special." I slide into the chair opposite her.

"Did you sleep at all? You've got raccoon eyes going on." Beth studies me with concern.

"Not really." I take a sip of my coffee. "Kept thinking I heard noises outside."

Beth's expression shifts from teasing to worried. "Does this have something to do with our friend Mr Blackwood? I’ve been doing some digging."

"He's not our friend."

"Figure of speech." Beth swipes through her phone, pulling up notes.

"So first, the legitimate stuff. He really does own practically half of the decent nightlife in this city.

Started with three smaller clubs about ten years ago, then expanded.

Now he has Pulse, more on top, two restaurants not including Le Maison, and possibly all sorts of silent partnerships in at least a dozen other venues. "

"How does someone build that kind of empire so quickly?" I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.

Beth leans forward, lowering her voice. "That's where it gets murky.

There are rumours, Saph. About business rivals who suddenly sold to him under 'undisclosed circumstances.

' About board members who abruptly resigned from companies he was interested in.

About people who crossed him and then... disappeared. "

A chill runs down my spine. "Disappeared as in...?"

"As in left town suddenly. Stopped showing up for work.

That kind of thing. Take from that what you will," Beth reaches over and squeezes my hand.

"But there's more. Word is he runs protection rackets.

Businesses pay him for 'security services' or call him if they have problems. Equipment failures, health inspector visits, licensing issues.

The kind of problems that normally shut places down. "

She scrolls through more notes. "Then there's the money laundering. Those legitimate businesses? Perfect for washing dirty cash. And the illegal gambling, high stakes poker games in private clubs, sports betting operations. Plus loan sharking with interest rates that would make your eyes water."

"How do you know all this?"

"I asked around. Carefully. And apparently, if you need someone's debts collected, Sebastian Blackwood is who you call.

If you need someone intimidated into compliance, he's your man.

If a competitor needs to have an 'accident' that puts them out of business without technically breaking their legs.

.." Beth shrugs. "He's got people for that. "

"Jesus."

“And the rumours about what happens to people who betray him..." She shivers. "Let's just say loyalty isn't optional in Sebastian Blackwood's organization."

Beth reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Look, I'm not saying he's a murderer. But he's dangerous. The kind of person who gets what he wants, one way or another."

"Well, he didn't get me," I say, trying to sound braver than I feel .

Beth takes a bite of her salad. "Honestly though? As beautiful and lovely as you are,” she winks “you’re one little fish in a big, big pond. He’s probably already bored and moved on to some other woman. I’d bet there’s plenty hanging around him.”

"You think?" I desperately want to believe her.

"Definitely. He's running a business empire. You really think he has time to stalk some random girl who turned him down for dinner? Girl chill." She says it with such confidence that I almost believe her. Almost.

"Then why do I feel like I'm being watched?" I lower my voice, suddenly paranoid that someone might overhear.

Beth studies me carefully. "Because he scared you. Because he showed up at your workplace knowing things he shouldn't have known. But that doesn't mean he's still interested."

We finish lunch with Beth deliberately changing the subject, telling me about the guy she met at a bar last weekend.

I try to focus, to laugh at the right moments, but my mind keeps returning to Blackwood.

To his intense gaze. To the way he just expected me to say yes and jump at his every demand.

I feel a guilty squirm in my gut. I’m petrified.

But why am I also a little excited that someone like Blackwood is interested in someone like me?

*

Back at the office, I find myself jumping whenever the lift doors open. Each time, I expect to see him striding toward my desk. By mid-afternoon, my nerves are completely frayed .

I lock myself in a bathroom stall and call Damon. He’s the only one I can trust to calm me down.

"Hey babe," he answers, sounding distracted. "Everything okay?"

"Not really." I keep my voice low. "Remember that weird mood I was in last night?"

"Yeah?"

I take a deep breath. "There's this guy, Sebastian Blackwood. He owns a bunch of nightclubs. I met him at Pulse when I was celebrating my promotion, and now he was really pushy about me going to dinner with him. Obviously I said no, but he turned up at work yesterday as well and I’m just, I’m just on edge.

" I rush to say it all before I chicken out.

"What do you mean, he turned up at work?" Damon's voice sharpens.

"He showed up at my office. Knew my full name. Knew where I live. When I said no to dinner, he sent a car to my place anyway." The words tumble out, my anxiety finally finding an outlet.

"Jesus, Saphy. Why didn't you tell me this last night?" He sounds genuinely worried now.

"I didn't want to freak you out. And I didn't want to ruin our evening." I bite my lip. "But I'm really on edge. I keep feeling like I'm being watched."

"Have you called the police?"

"And tell them what? That a powerful businessman asked me to dinner and because I said no, I feel like he’s watching me? They'd laugh me out of the station. I’m probably just being over paranoid."

Damon is silent for a moment. "I could look into him. I've got access to systems at work…."

"No!" I interrupt, panic rising. "Absolutely not. If he's as dangerous as people say, the last thing I want is you poking around in his business."

"Dangerous?! Saphy…."

"Promise me, Damon. Promise you won't do anything. I just wanted you to know what was going on. I'm not asking you to fix it. There’s probably nothing to even fix! I haven’t heard from him since I sent his shitty driver away."

He sighs. "Fine. I promise. But if anything else happens, if he contacts you again or shows up, you tell me immediately, okay?"

"Okay." I feel marginally better having shared the burden. "I love you."

"Love you too. Be careful, all right?"

After we hang up, I splash cold water on my face and give myself a stern look in the mirror. "Pull yourself together. You're fine. Everything is fine."

*

The rest of the afternoon passes without incident. No unexpected visitors. No text messages from unknown numbers. By the time I pack up to leave, I've almost convinced myself that Beth is right, Blackwood has moved on.

The feeling lasts until I exit the building.

A sleek black Bentley is parked across the street. Not directly in front of the building, but close enough that I notice it immediately. The same car that came for me last night. I'm sure of it.

As I watch, it pulls away from the curb and drives slowly past. The windows are tinted, but I swear I can feel eyes on me from inside.

My heart hammers against my ribs. Is he inside, watching me? Or am I becoming completely paranoid?

I force myself to keep walking toward the tube station, fighting the urge to run. The car doesn't follow, at least, not that I can see. By the time I reach my stop, I've convinced myself I imagined the whole thing. It was just a black car. London is full of them. It probably wasn’t even a Bentley!

The walk from the station to my flat feels different today. Streets I've walked a hundred times suddenly seem unfamiliar, threatening. I keep my keys between my fingers, ready to use them as a weapon if needed.

My hands shake slightly as I unlock my door. Once inside, I immediately double lock it behind me, sliding the chain into place for good measure. I dump my bag on the floor and breathe a sigh of relief. I’m home. I’m safe and I’m home.

That's when I notice it. Small things, out of place. The cushions on my sofa are arranged differently than I left them. A book on my coffee table has been moved. The drawer of my desk is slightly ajar .

"Hello?" I call out, though I know it's stupid. If someone were hiding here, they wouldn’t exactly stand up saying “Oops, yes you’ve caught me burgling you.”

I check every room and find nothing. No broken windows. No signs of forced entry. I feel like I’m going crazy.

But I know I didn't leave things this way. I'm meticulous about my space, always have been.

Someone has been in my flat.

I stand in the middle of my living room, fear and fury battling for dominance. I could call the police, but what would I tell them? That my cushions have been rearranged? Some sort of reverse burglar has moved my book? They'd think I was insane.

I sit on the edge of my sofa, trying to calm my racing thoughts. There are rational explanations. Maybe the building maintenance came by. Maybe I really did leave things this way and just don't remember.

I’m not prepared to think of the alternatives.

My phone buzzes with a text from Beth: How's it going? Still feeling spooked?

I stare at the message, unsure how to respond. If I tell her what I've found, or think I've found, she'll insist I call the police or stay with her.

But another part of me, a part I don't fully understand, resists. There's something undeniably thrilling beneath my fear. The idea that a man like Blackwood would go to such lengths over me.

I hate myself for that thought the moment it forms .

I text Beth back: All good. Just being paranoid. Talk tomorrow x

Then I check all my windows and doors again, before taking a long, hot shower, and try to convince myself that tomorrow will be better. That this bizarre fixation Blackwood has on me will fade. That my life will return to normal.

But as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, I can't shake the feeling that this is only the beginning. That Sebastian Blackwood has marked me somehow, claimed me in a way I don't understand. And that no matter how many times I say no, he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants.