“What is it?” Travis says. He walks toward me and grabs the phone out of my hand, looking down at the message for himself. He lets out a slow exhale before running his fingers through his hair.
“This is serious now, isn’t it?” I gulp as I try to grapple with the severity of that message. “Maybe I should just go to the police. They have resources to find him, and they can stop him wherever he is.”
Travis shakes his head and sets the phone down on the counter, forcing a calm look on his face. “You don’t have to worry about him.”
For the first time, I can see the subtext in his words. There’s a hidden meaning in what he’s saying that is all too clear. Does he mean that he could hurt him? Is Travis a dangerous man?
There’s a chance I have inadvertently come to the worst person for help in this situation. Sure, I’ve googled him and scoured every corner of the internet to learn everything I can about the reclusive man standing before me. That doesn’t mean I know him.
If he could hurt a stranger, does that mean he could hurt me? I look down at my hands as the thought races through my mind. No, he wouldn’t hurt me. He’s had plenty of chances, and I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I’m better than fine. I’m here, cooking breakfast for someone I truly care about.
If Travis wanted to hurt me, he would have. I have to trust him.
Chapter Fifteen
Travis
Sage’s breakfast is surprisingly palatable. I’ve never had shakshuka before, but I wouldn’t be opposed to having it again. After all, the recipe was relatively simple, and it is a very healthy and fibrous breakfast. She doesn’t say much while we eat. I know that’s from her own worries about the message from her stalker, but it is a pleasant change of pace.
It makes me think that even with her here, I might have some semblance of normalcy. For the briefest moment, I think things might not be all bad with her around. As long as she stays out of my way, I think we’ll be fine.
The thought has barely entered my mind when Sage reaches for the pepper in haste, knocking down both the salt and pepper shakers, spilling grains everywhere.
“I’m sorry!” Sage blurts out before adding, “You look like I just killed your dog.”
This is worse.
Okay, maybe I’m being a tad dramatic here, but this feels worse. Sage tries to get up to clean it, but I stop her, knowing she won’t do it right anyway.
“I’ll Venmo you for emotional damage,” she says when I’m done cleaning her mess.
“You can’t afford me.”
She giggles. “Yeah, probably not.”
After we finish eating, I promptly clean up her mess. She attempts to help, but her attention to detail is clearly not as defined as mine.
“Leave me your log-in information. I’m going to try to find who this guy is,” I say as I take a towel that is meant for drying hands away from her before she wipes the counter with it. “You should spend some time outside. Leave me to my work for a while. I turned the hot tub on this morning, so it should be perfect now.”
Sage nods, taking a few deep breaths. “I could really use that right now.”
She offers me a smile and squeezes my forearm before bounding off toward the guest room. I don’t want to think about the mess that has probably swallowed that room whole since she’s been here. It hasn’t even been a full day, and I feel it’s safe to assume the worst.
I’ll wait until she’s outside before I go to my office. The last thing I need is her walking in and disrupting me while I’m in the middle of preparing for something that will help her. She’s already been enough of a distraction. This is my chance to get back to my routine. She better not fuck this up.
Sage walks out of the guest room in a skimpy pink bikini she’s almost spilling out of. The blood immediately drains to my cock as I watch her saunter through the living room and make her way out the door.
It’s not time for that.I force thoughts of her away and shake my head before heading to my office.
I take a seat behind the desk, sinking into my plush leather desk chair and letting the anticipation for what I’m about to do fill my chest. This is the part I love. The planning, the prep work. Finding out everything I can about someone and figuring out how to use it against them.
I live for this.
Sage gave me her Instagram account log-in information, so I start there. Her stalker has a faceless profile. I immediately know this manuses some kind of burner account to keep his online proclivities private. More often than not, with accounts like this, you’ll find some kind of clue as to who they really are.
People are often vain enough to follow themselves with their burner accounts because one extra follower on their main will make them look that much more appealing to the people in their real lives. If they’re not following themselves, they might follow people they know in real life. I wouldn’t put it past a man like this to follow female coworkers and friends with this account just to contact them personally and harass them, thinking he can get away with it.
I start digging. I look through every post on the profile, most of which are memes and inspirational quotes that lean heavily toward the red pill community. Not surprising. There are no personal photos on the entire account, nor is there anything he has been tagged in. That means there’s no indication through the content alone of who this man is.
