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“Then let me explain something. I always feel as though I’m being watched. I have a constant sense of anxiety, one I’ve learned to live with. My senses are in overdrive so much of the time that I can no longer differentiate instinct from fear. I didn’t notice anything unusual, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t being watched.”
She wasn’t sure if he pitied her; his face was implacable. “Who did you tell about your trip?”
“Just my team.”
“Which includes?”
“My coach, trainer, physio and agent.”
“Friends?”
“No.” She bit down on her lip, unable to meet his eyes. She didn’t want to admit to him that she had no close friends—her career made that almost impossible. “Benji, of course.”
“It’s possible his phone is bugged. Or yours.”
Her lips formed a circle, shock running through her. “You’re not serious?”
His expression was all the response he gave.
Another shiver almost paralysed her. She crossed one leg over the other, rubbing a hand across her slender calf, then stopped when his eyes dropped to the gesture. Heat seared her belly. She looked away.
“Where is your phone?”
She frowned, looking around then reaching into her bag, pulling it out and staring at it.
“Hand it to me.”
She hesitated a moment. Her phone was a link to the world, to her coach and physio, to Benji. With a belligerent glare that was undeserved, given he was a modern-day knight in shiny white airplane armour, she handed the phone to Leo.
He nodded curtly in thanks, then switched it off.
“Just in case.”
“I—,” Her eyes were huge and troubled. “I didn’t even know that was possible.” Heat blushed in her cheeks as she heard the stupidity of that. “I’m not some international spy, Leo.” The diminutive of his name slipped out. “I’m just a figure skater. Who would want to stalk me?”
“You’re not just a figure skater though.”
She pursed her lips in confusion.
“You’re a model, too. You advertise for several brands.”
She gnawed at her lip. “Sponsorship,” she said with a nod. “My agent suggested I take on some campaigns, to build my profile. To future proof my career a little.”
His eyes held hers, no hint of expression on his face.
She swallowed over a tight lump in her throat. “And how would anyone be able to turn my phone into a tracking device anyway?”
“Our phones are tracking us, all the time.” He said, with a level of calm that made no sense given what he’d just said. “The question is whether your stalker has been able to access that information. As for the why, that’s obvious. He’s crazy. The how is pretty simple, too.”
“Oh, yeah?”
He leaned closer. “Malware could have been embedded in something very innocuous seeming. An email from a friend, communication from a newsletter. A text from the post office about a package being delivered. Any number of things. Once you click on the link, it activates spyware that turns your phone against you. Not only can it track you, it can eavesdrop on everything you say.”
She swallowed past a big lump in her throat. His words rang with truth, and indeed, she’d heard of this sort of thing, but had never imagined it could happen to her. “It seems so…sinister. And sophisticated. That would imply this person is highly intelligent and determined.” A shiver ran down her spine. It wasn’t as though she’d imagined this to be a random series of haphazard events, but somehow, she’d clung to the idea that she was simply dealing with an over-enthusiastic, mentally-unbalanced fan. Someone who needed medical help. Not someone capable of organizing anything so detailed.
It made the stalking so much more layered, so much more…a sob built inside her chest, but she bit it back, refusing to give in to the undignified wail that was wringing through her ears. Panic though was a weight, dragging against her.
“God, Leonidas. I can’t—,” She dropped her head into her hands, trying to think clearly, trying to push back the tsunami of emotions that were crowding her. “I just want this to end.”
She struggled to catch breath, sucking in and out but feeling as though her lungs wouldn’t cooperate. She tried to focus, concentrating on a rhythm, on slowing down, but nothing helped. Nothing, until he reached across and put his hands on hers, and warmth enveloped her, wrapping her in fire and flame, pushing anything else from her mind. She grabbed to the distraction, to the pleasure that enveloped her, focusing on the physical contact and the ways in which it was spiraling through her.
Desire was a whip at the base of her spine, and she supplicated herself to its power willingly, her eyes hooded as they met his, her lips parted now not from shock but from a rich, building tide of need.
“Leo—,” she pressed a hand to his chest. What had he said about using sex to forget? She’d never tried that before, but had a feeling it would be pretty effective. “I’m—,” But how could she even suggest that? This was no longer the version of Leonidas she’d sat across from over dinner, nor was he the same man who’d kissed her afterwards. He was all business, pure focus, his eyes locked to hers, but his mind clearly engaged elsewhere.
“Tell me about your usual routines,” he said after a beat, reaching for his phone and loading up an empty notepad. “Start at the beginning.”
Her way of dealing with this was much more appealing but there was such authority in his bearing that she wondered, and even hoped, something might be about to change. After a year of being hunted, was it possible relief was in sight? Maybe, just maybe, with Leonidas Xenakis on her side, the balance of power would shift and she would finally, finally be safe.
