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I shiver. Why is that so hot? Thank God I’m on birth control or I’d be pregnant a thousand times over by now.
I swear I read the same thought in his eyes. And a yearning. Maybe even a promise.
One day he’s going to put a baby in my belly.
A future that’s not meant to be ours flits through my mind’s eye. Me, pregnant and wrapped in his protective arms, feeling so loved and safe. This intuitive knowing that he’ll be the most wonderful father to our child.
I blink away that vision.
That future is impossible. Or is it?
Christmas is fast approaching and I want to give Dimitri a gift, but I have no idea what to get him. Why are men so difficult to shop for? I need to come up with something to give him because I’m going shopping with my sisters and cousin this weekend. It’s the perfect opportunity.
I step into our shared closet. This is as good a place as any to find inspiration. Normally, I might buy a man a pair of cufflinks, or a silk tie, but he’s not the type who generally wears those types of accessories.
I don’t want to get him yet another pair of jeans or more black T-shirts. He has one leather jacket that he pretty much wears all the time.
Opening his dresser drawers, I find an array of expensive watches, and where he keeps his small stash of ties and pocket squares for those rare occasions when he does dress up. Another drawer holds boxers and socks. The bottom drawer is empty except for a wooden trinket box.
I pull out the box and set it on top of the dresser. Lifting the hinged lid, I expect to find men’s jewelry, maybe some heirloom pieces. The box contains trinkets all right, just not the type I thought it would.
I stare down at a printed photo of myself. My heart stops. I grow still, blinking down at the box’s contents. Beside the photo is a lock of hair—my hair.
With a shaky hand, I reach inside, discovering several more photographs. Who prints pictures in this day and age? My stomach drops when I find one of me sleeping in my own bed at my parents house.
Oh my god, he broke into my house, into my bedroom and took this photo. That must have been where he acquired my hair, too.
A chill rakes up my spine, my skin tingles. Candid pictures, taken from afar, is completely different than this.
He said his stalking was supposed to frighten me. He wanted me to pay for my father’s decision to break the agreement. The threats, creepy texts, and candid shots were aimed to torment me, but this…
This is obsession.
This is collecting little pieces of my life and keeping them in a box.
This takes his stalking to a whole new level.
My heart lurches when I see a blue floral barrette at the bottom. The flower is outlined in gold. It’s a Pontrelli family heirloom—and I lost it over two years ago at a Halloween party.
How the hell did this end up in Dimitri’s possession? Unless…
I brush my fingers over the cool enamel and visions of that night bombard my consciousness. The details are hazy, I’ve never been able to clearly see the faces of the two men—one my attacker and the other my dark knight and savior.
What I do remember vividly is the stench of urine and stale booze in that alley. The sharp agony when my cheek hit that brick wall, whooshing the air from my lungs. His rough hands tore at my Halloween costume and kneaded my exposed flesh as I whimpered for him to stop.
Then he was pulled off me, and I ran. I have no idea how their altercation in that alley ended. I never saw the face of my savior either. And the features of the man who attacked me are blurry, all I remember is that he was tall, powerfully built, and had an accent of some kind.
What I know for sure is that’s where I lost this barrette. In that dank alley outside a club. The man who attacked me tore it from my hair. Did he pocket it?
Suddenly dizzy, I reach for the dresser to steady myself. Dimitri was there that night, this is proof.
But which one of them was he? The man who tired to rape me or my rescuer? I wish my guess felt more certain.
He’s given me the impression that he’s been stalking me for a few months, not years. He swore he’s not the kind of man to force himself on a woman, but can I believe that? This barrette places him in the alley that night. Has he been stalking me ever since, lurking in the shadows, playing a long game of cat and mouse until I was within reach? I shudder.
He has the ultimate power over me now, having forced me to become his wife. How long has he been planning this? Months? Years?
My stomach twists and I feel nauseated. Is this all some twisted game?
