Page 113 of Watching Her

My inner voice was right as usual. I spun around to face my computer, tired of worrying. Tired of wringing my hands.

Yet I had to face facts. If what I suspected Christian was capable of was true, I’d need to be very careful what I told him. Or if. Or…

Maybe I should cancel the date.

No, that would remove some options.

“Breathe,” I whispered to myself. “Carrington is a fucking asshole.”

As if stating the obvious out loud would break some magical spell.

One thing I knew for certain. Worrying myself into becoming sick wasn’t going to do anything. I forced myself to sit down in my office chair, trying to concentrate on the work I’d started earlier.

After what felt like hours, I checked the clock on my laptop, groaning as soon as I did.

With only an hour left before I needed to start getting ready for my date, I was determined to finish the stunning work of art I’d been working on for an author who’d contacted me out of the blue. At this rate, I’d become a full-fledged PR firm instead of an influencer. But I was grateful that somehow, she’d gotten my name.

While just a sample, I was very proud of what I’d accomplished.

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t concentrate. Not after what Marlee had said and the confrontation with Carrington. Why should what I’d done in my past matter to anyone?

Because you were underage. Because you made a deal with the devil.

Yeah? Which time? Just now with Carrington or before when I’d desperately needed the money?

The slight blip pulled my attention to the other monitor. I’d used some precious funds for purchasing two standalone screens, which allowed me to work on one and have my social media up on the other when I wanted.

I shifted the trackpad, bringing up the other screen. I’d left it on my Instagram account and blinked a couple of times before I realized what I was looking at. The number of followers had jumped overnight by a couple of hundred, which had thrilled me.

Now I was up a few thousand. How in the hell was that possible? Yes, I’d been contacted by a book box company who wanted to send me a box of books and asked that I post about them, which I had, but the timing was too quick.

At least I felt a little giddy inside. What I was doing was working.

Or…

Christian had interfered. Why should that bother me if he had? Was it because I was worried what Carrington had told me was true? This was crazy. One had nothing to do with the other. If Christian had used his influence to help me, so what? I’d still need to handle the actual work. Right?

“Wow,” I muttered, even stamping my feet. Another blip and I burst into laughter. Another ten while I was celebrating.

Get back to work.

The little voice reminded me I was on a self-imposed deadline, but before I could click off the screen so I could concentrate, I noticed I had a private message. It was from another influencer who’d also had trouble with the troll.

HappyBookGirl: Did you read about what happened to the jerk?

Me: I’ve decided to ignore him. What happened?

HappyBookGirl: He’s dead.

“What?” I jerked back, reading her words again.

Me: What happened?

HappyBookGirl: He was murdered. I caught something about it online and went searching for details. If you read the article from one of the St. Louis newspapers, they made it sound like the guy was a real creeper, as in stalking women from the romance community. I’ll send you a link to the article.

Me: Thanks.

The news hit me strangely, creepy-crawlies dancing all over my forearms and down my back. Even my throat was suddenly closed, but that wasn’t the worst part. I was giddy. I was truly happy the man was dead. What did that say about me?