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Did you see anybody outside?I ask her.
No, I didn’t see anyone. There’s no return address or postage stamps.
Which means someone dropped it off in person.
Should we check the surveillance cameras?
I nod. I don’t know why that wasn’t my first thought. I pull up the footage on my computer, speeding through the better part of the evening in search of any unusual movement. I can clearly see my car pulling onto the property around nine, followed by a long stretch of nothing, and then—
Black.
The camera feed for the front door cuts out, offering a two-hour window for the dollhouse gifter to move around freely. The footage pops back in again around the same time Mei-Lee heads out with the trash, capturing the exact moment she notices the strange object.
A chill stabs through me. Could it be my stalker? Without any proof, I can’t be sure, but I know better than to ignore the feeling in my gut.
Should we go to the police?Mei-Lee asks.
And do what?I sign back.Report that someone gifted me a dollhouse? It’s weird, but not an offense.
Be careful, boy. Whoever did this has clearly been watching us for some time. If they were able to tamper with your security cameras…
It could have been a coincidence.
Mei-Lee gives me a look.You’re not stupid, boy. Of course it was them.
Deep down, I know she’s right. There isn’t any more room for denial. My stalker is getting bolder and braver. If I don’t get this under control, I could have a seriously big problem on my hands.
* * *
I’m so used to seeing those flirty little skirts of hers that I can’t help but stare when Eden walks in the next morning wearing pants. It’s not a bad thing. Far from it. In fact, the curve of the fabric hugs her shapely ass, offering a lovely view when she bends over to sort through one of the filing cabinets.
I’m half tempted to put her over my knee to give her a good spanking, but…
She looks tired.Reallytired.
“Did Thomas get home okay?” I ask her casually.
Eden peeks up at me. Her eyes are puffy and red. “Yes,” she mumbles, but leaves it at that.
I’m not the kind of man who leaves things alone. When I want answers, I get them.
“You said he was supposed to be in San Francisco?”
“Has anyone told you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s not really eavesdropping when you’re speaking at a loud volume and I happened to be in the vicinity.”
Eden returns to her desk, plopping down in her chair with a sigh. “If it’s all the same to you, Mr. Stride, I’d rather not talk about it.” And then, much softer, “Please?”
My chest tightens. I decide not to press the matter.
“What’s next on my calendar?” I ask instead.
Eden quickly shifts through a couple of tabs on her computer. “You’ve got one last meeting with the team about casting Juliet. They’ll be waiting for us in Conference Room C. The investors will also be there so you can save time making the announcement.”
I nod, getting up from my seat. “Good. May as well save ourselves the trouble.”
Star Rider Studio is a massive place with multiple buildings on the lot. Most of our long-term television projects are shot on permanent sound stages, with a cramped parking lot in the back corner designated for circus —an industry term for where we put all the talent, makeup, and costume trailers.
