Page 62 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

“You give me a knife so I can defend myself if I need to.”

“Are you serious?” he said, looking bemused and a little bereft.

“Deadly. It’s the only way you’ll get me into the car.”

“Fine.”

He stalked off, leaving me to stand in the foyer alone. Moments later, he returned with a carving knife and held the blade as he offered me the handle.

“Whatever makes you feel safe,” he said, and then he strode past me.

Alex walked to the door and held it open. Clutching the knife in my hand, I stepped forward and walked towards him, then sidled past him through the doorway to head outside. There was a black sports car parked on the drive, and I followed Alex as he went down the steps heading towards it. Then he opened the passenger door for me to get in.

“You’re such a gentleman,” I remarked with a hint of sarcasm as I climbed in.

“I am. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that.” Carefully, he closed my door, before walking around the car to get into the driver’s side

The engine roared to life, and I began telling him, “My address for the Sat Nav is...”

But he cut me off.

“I already know where you live.”

“Of course you do,” I replied as he pulled off, racing down the drive of his estate. “Why did I expect anything less?”

We drove in silence for a while as I held the knife in my lap, and I could tell he wanted to say something, he kept flexing his jaw and sighing.

Eventually, he said, “I don’t want this to be the end.”

“I don’t want to feel frightened every day, but we don’t always get what we want.”

He turned to look at me before focusing on the road ahead.

“I’m here for you. I’ll always be here.”

“I think I need to focus on getting my life sorted,” I replied. “I just want to be left alone.”

He didn’t answer. Just carried on driving.

I reached down to the footwell of the car, and took my phone from my bag, scrolling to find Grace’s number. As I did, Alex said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I unlocked your phone when you were unconscious.”

“You did what?” I snapped.

Were there any more surprises he was going to hit me with today?

“It wasn’t for anything dodgy. Honestly. I wanted to let your family know you were unwell, but I couldn’t find any contacts for them. I saw that the last message you’d sent, apart from the one you sent to me, was to someone called Grace. So, I tried calling her, but I only got her voicemail. I left a few messages too, but she didn’t respond. I tried to reach out to your loved ones, Emma. That’s all. Would I do that if I was the bad guy here?”

“I guess not,” I answered, feeling conflicted and concerned that Grace hadn’t called back. It wasn’t like her. Something wasn’t right.

At the same time, I was still pissed off that he’d been through my phone, but I suppose he was doing the right thing. At least, that explanation made sense. And when I looked at my message thread to Grace, I saw he’d typed out, ‘Please call Emma. This is her friend, Alex, and she’s been taken ill. I don’t want to worry you, but I wanted to reach out to someone to let them know she’s safe and being taken care of. Hope to speak to you soon.’

My call log also showed fifteen calls to Grace’s number; none of them had connected.

“My parents aren’t here anymore,” I told him, the ice in my veins slowly thawing at the realisation that what I thought was cunning was actually kindness.

“I know,” he replied in a solemn tone. “I did a little more research after going through your phone. You’re an orphan like me.”

God, why did him saying that make my heart hurt? Like we were two vulnerable, lost souls left to wander the earth. He really knew how to pull on my heart strings and make me question everything.