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A jolt of excitement travels through me at the thought.
How many buttons can I push before Mae collapses? How long can I torture her before she breaks into tiny shreds? Would she scream? Fight? Or disappoint me by begging?
For her own good, she better not resort to the latter.
Gaining my interest is dangerous. Losing it was lethal.
Chapter Four
Mae
The aroma of chocolate cake tickles my nose, compelling me to dash downstairs and devour it all.
First thing’s first.
Looking in the mirror, I tug on my short, sleeveless wine-red dress.
Yesterday, I followed Sydney’s advice and bought the damn thing, running to the cashier without trying the dress on. I needed to get out of that place before a panic attack assaulted me in public.
The wisest option is to report the stalker. But I have no evidence. Not to mention that a small part of me wants to see where this is heading.
Am I a masochist or something?
I need to talk to Sydney or Owen about it. They will know how to deal with this psychological mess.
“Stop thinking about him!” I glare at myself in the mirror. “Tonight is for partying.”
I concentrate on my scandalous dress. Its velvet-like material hugs my modest curves, and the colour is in good contrast with my skin tone.
So what if I wear a racy outfit? I only live once.
I release my hair, letting it cascade down my lower back, covering my bare skin.
Mascara. Red lipstick. Handbag. Impossibly high heels – which I’ll regret later. And I’m out.
Mum’s graceful movements greet me as soon as I stroll in the kitchen. She wipes the marbled counter, then puts the chocolate cake pieces onto a plate.
We have maids, but Mum insists on making all our meals herself. A family tradition, she said.
I throw my arms around her waist from behind and press a kiss on her adorable cheek.
She pulls away with a smile, her former fashion designer’s critical eye inspects me from head to toe.
“Good choice. Finally, something daring. Where are you going?”
“Night out with the guys.” I rub my palms together, targeting the biggest piece of chocolate cake. I sweep it off the plate, take a bite that stuffs my mouth, and stifle a moan at its rich sweetness.
“That’s great, Honey.” Mum’s eyes glint as she removes her apron. “Maybe this time you’ll find a boyfriend.”
“Mum!”
Here we go again. She makes it seem like it’s my duty as her daughter to have a boyfriend.
Men interest me; it’s the relationship part I don’t care for. It isn’t a priority. I would rather dedicate my time to art. At least for now. The last thing I want is to sabotage my career over some man, or worse, a broken heart. Like the one my ex-boyfriend left me with after high school.
The smell of Dad’s signature aftershave pulls me back from my musings.
I pop a kiss on his cheek. It hasn’t been more than an hour since we came back from one of Dad’s business conferences— I like to attend out of curiosity— but I already miss him.
