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"Thank you," he tells me before the line goes dead.
I hang up the phone, more befuddled than ever that my boss is thanking me whenI'mthe one who has a reason to be thankful to him.
* * *
Stephan
I didn't think it was possible for my obsession with Elena to get worse, but it has. Now that I have cameras installed in her apartment, watching her is my favorite pastime. I watch her all day through my one-way mirror at work, and then as soon as I go home, I watch her in her apartment. The way she sits on the couch and falls asleep while watching a movie. The way she gazes out the window. The way she eats those little prepackaged frozen meals.
I frown at the thought of that garbage she calls food. I swear frozen dinners were one of the worst inventions humans have ever come up with. At least back in the days when I was alive, we ate real food. Fresh food.
My Elena really needs to eat more fresh food. She's such a tiny little thing. She needs more nutrition. I'm tempted to have some fresh groceries sent to her apartment, but I've already done enough. I think she might draw the line at me insisting on having fresh groceries delivered to her door every day, and I certainly don't want to freak her out too much and spook her.
Every week, as tempting as it has been, I haven't allowed myself to lose control like I did that first night.
When I see her undressing, I turn away. It's not that I don't want to see her. I'm aching to watch her, but I can't afford to keep letting my control slip. I'm stronger than this.
Granted, it's torture to watch her day in and day out like this and not touch her, but it's all I can have for now.
It's better than nothing, I tell myself.
And my Elena is a good girl. She goes to work, and then she goes back home.
She hasn't once taken me up on my offer to call my driver to take her anywhere else. The few times she's gotten some groceries, she just had him stop on the way home. I think she's being overly polite and doesn't want to inconvenience him.
And while I don't want to make her a prisoner, it pleases me to no end to see that she's not out running around because while knowing she's with my driver allows me to monitor her some somewhat, it's not the same as being able to look in on her anytime I want.
I've gotten extremely used to that over the past few weeks, and I'm spoiled, if you will. Being able to see her at the click of a button is keeping me sane.
If she goes out somewhere where I don't have cameras up, then it's more difficult for me to do that.
While we vampires have certain powers, our powers only extend so far. Unfortunately, the ability to see anywhere at any time isn't one of them. Although I can be anywhere she needs me in a flash.
I suppose knowing where she's at is the next best thing to being able to see her anytime I wish.
She doesn't know it, but we have dinner together every night. When she eats her prepackaged microwave trash, I sip on a glass of prepackaged blood. It's not the same as something fresh from the source, but it'll do. I haven't had the time for proper hunting. I'm too wrapped up in Elena and watching her.
But it's a sacrifice I'll gladly make. I'm not going to make the mistake I made when I took that last meeting and then came back to find her nearly attacked. I meant what I told her. Nothing like that will ever happen again. Not on my watch.
We get into a little routine, my Elena and I. She's unaware of my silent participation, though.
My girl is predictable. She has the same little routine when she goes home every day, and watching her engage in her minor comforts gives me a sense of peace like I've never known.
It's a sort of existence such as I've never had. I've always been on the go, chasing more money, chasing more power, anything to fill the void, but Elena knows how to just stop and enjoy life when she's not at work. And I'm learning how to do that through her.
That's why I'm shocked as hell when she breaks our routine one night.
She comes home and goes through her normal routine of taking a bath. Only tonight, after taking her bath, she gets dressed again.
I sit up and frown when I see what she puts on. It's a short little red dress that flares out mid-thigh and has thin straps no thicker than a strand of angel hair pasta.
She looks beautiful in it. She lets the long, blond locks of her hair flow freely down her back, and I'm instantly on alert.
Why does she feel the need to dress so beautifully? Where is she going? More importantly,whois she going with?
I grip the arms of my chair so tightly I can feel the wood splintering underneath my grasp. I force myself to relax my hold and take a deep breath. I can't overreact. I haven't seen a man in her life the entire time I've been watching her. Just because she's dolled up so prettily doesn't mean that she's going on a date.
If she was, I would have known about it, wouldn't I? My vision threatens to go red at the thought of another man touching her.
