Page 5 of Watched

“What do you want?” I hear myself whisper. The man steps to the other side of Connor’s unconscious body, staring down at me on my knees.

I was aware achieving this level of fame would come with challenges, but this—this is insane. Who breaks into someone’s apartment, makes them bleed, knocks them out, then… “The text.” My conclusion grates through my dry throat. “You sent that text.”

“You’re quick.”

“What do you want?”

“You.”

What am I supposed to do? I have always been someone who avoided trouble and did my best to be kind to everyone. I focused on football, caused no PR drama, never started a fight. What the hell did I do to deserve this? When did I catch this maniac’s attention? How did he know I was seeing Connor? To the rest of the world, I’m straight. Connor is the only person who is aware of our arrangement. How?

“Stand,” he commands. I force my hands down, the mountain of adrenaline dissipating as I gather my legs beneath me to stand. “I want you to understand this piece of shit isn’t good enough for you, Rome,” he spits, stepping over Connor.

“Who are you?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Yours.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’d love to see what else that mouth can do.” My stomach rolls as his head tilts. “Sit at the table, Rome.”

Leather grazes my hand, and the unexpected contact make me jerk backward into a cabinet. He tightens his grip, pulling my rigid body forward to crash into him. I’m tall, six-foot, but he has a larger frame and is at least three inches taller. Being the athlete I am, I need to be strong but lean. Do I have any chance of fighting him?

His woodsy cologne fills my nose as he snakes an arm past my racketing spine.

“Mmm. You smell so fucking good.” I flick my eyes over the eyeholes, but it’s too goddamn dark to see anything. His head tilts again, as if studying my face. “Will you be a good boy and sit down for me?”

I nod shakily. He seems to have caught my agreement, because his hold loosens and I’m tugged through the kitchen toward the dining table. I pull at my hand, but his grip only tightens, the leather groaning and my fingers screaming when they crush together.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Rome.” The dining chair scrapes against the wooden floor. “Don’t make me force you.” He yanks me down into the chair, finally releasing my hand to grip my shoulder. “If you’re good, I won’t tie you up,” the muffled breathing whispers against my ear. “So, will you be good?”

I lift my chin, drawing a ragged breath, fingertips digging harder into the wooden armrests, sending throbbing pain up my hands. “Ye-yes.”

“Mmm,” he hums, gripping my throat again, his blood-covered thumb caressing my quivering lips. If I make any move to retrieve my phone from my pocket, it’s likely he’ll take it. “God, you’re even more exquisite up close.” He pauses for a moment, and I pinch my eyes shut at the wet sound of him licking his lips. “Will you see him again?” I frantically shake my head. “Give me your word.”

“You-you have my word.”

“Who do you belong to, Rome?”

“You,” I rush out, hoping if I say what he wants the bastard might just leave me alone.

“Say it,” he demands.

“You… I-I belong to you.”

“If you go near him or anyone with sexual intent again, I will kill them. You have my word.” His hand glides down my heaving chest into my front pocket to retrieve the access card. “You won’t need this anymore. Now leave, Rome.” I choke on the painful heart beating in my throat and push out of the chair to back away from him. “I’ll see you soon, baby,” he taunts as I run for the door.

That is who I am—a fucking coward who just left Connor behind with that maniac.

I force the key into the lock of my garage door and swing it open, then slam it shut and dive my hand into my pocket for my phone. The device almost slips from my hand while I locate Connor’s number and dial, holding my churning stomach while pacing between the kitchen and dining room, waiting for it to connect. “Hey,” Connor groans.

My feet pause. “H-hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think I drank too much and passed out. Were we supposed to meet tonight?”

“No. No. Are—Are you hurt? You’re bleeding.”

“Bleeding…” he trails off. “I just went for a shower. I’m not bleeding.”