AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Holy shit.”
“Language, Miss Green. Why are you worried about me? And don’t give me some watered down version. I want the absolute truth.”
I open my mouth, close it, and open it again. “I think I have a stalker.”
Chapter30
Calista
When Hayden continuesto stare at me, words pour from my mouth like a faucet, spilling everywhere. “I have no idea who this person is or what they want, but they stole my necklace and have been leaving individual pearls on my nightstand every day for a week. At night. I could’ve written everything off as me losing my necklace and that would’ve made sense, until a single pearl appeared. I would never willingly break that necklace. My father gave it to me, and it’s one of the few things I have left from him.”
Hayden says nothing. In the seconds that follow, the silence creeps along my skin like a swarm of bugs, making me antsy. When I think he’s about to acknowledge what I’ve said, he surprises me by walking further into the penthouse.
“Did you hear what I said?” When he nods, I grit my teeth, praying for patience. “And?”
“And I don’t give a fuck.”
For a couple of seconds, I stare at him. Then I struggle in his hold. “This isn’t something you can brush off. Put me down so we can talk about this like adults.”
Ignoring my protests, he stays in motion. The only change is he tightens his grip on me to the point it forces a wheeze from me. I glare up at him although he can’t see it. However, I’m immediately distracted from my irritation when he steps inside a large room.
The master bedroom is a chilly sanctuary of dark opulence, the strict decor continuing in dramatic fashion. More floor to ceiling windows overlook the city, but thick blackout curtains remain drawn to cocoon the room in somber shadows. The focal point is a massive platform bed, a black wooden frame with padded leather in matching charcoal gray. Not a crease disturbs the smooth surface of the duvet and sheets, and the dark floor planks are bare, the ebony wood continuing underfoot.
In place of art, a massive black and white photograph dominates the wall opposite the bed. It depicts a lone figure standing before a dilapidated building under ominous gray skies. The subject stares away from the camera, the person’s face obscured by shadow. It's a portrait of shrouded anonymity, the lone splash of grim color reinforcing the room's bleak palette.
I suspect it’s a woman from the shape of the body, but I can’t be certain. Even so, jealousy flares in my gut and spreads, making my stomach churn. For a moment, I forget about my stalker, wanting to know the hell that person is.
And if she means anything.
“That’s a beautiful picture,” I say, meaning it despite my sudden insecurity. I shift my gaze to Hayden’s face, ready to decipher every blink and shape of his lips as he responds to the question I need an answer to. “Is it someone you know or a random photograph you purchased?”
“I know her personally.”
Ouch.“The woman in the picture or the artist?”
“The woman.”
Sonofabitch.“Who is she?” I try to keep my tone light and slightly disinterested, but when Hayden turns to look at me, I feel exposed by the way his gaze pierces me.
“The woman is someone who changed my life.”
“For good or bad?”
“Both,” he says.
I hate her. Whoever she is.
He doesn’t speak again until we’re inside his spacious bathroom that looks more like a spa than a place to shower. I briefly admire the luxury surrounding me, but my thoughts are centered on Hayden when he sets me on the edge of the counter, keeping his hands on my waist as though afraid I might try to run again.
I won’t. But if I do, it’ll be to steal that portrait and light it on fire.
I glare up at him, wishing I was upset that he manhandled me as opposed to being jealous over a still image of a woman who may or may not be important to him. That logic doesn’t translate, not when he placed her in the most intimate room in his house.
“I need to clean your feet so I can assess the depth of the lacerations,” he says. “Hold still.”
His gaze softens as it drifts down to my battered and bloody feet. My anger fizzles out, replaced with a ball of warmth in my chest at his blatant concern for me. He finally removes his hands from me and I sag, getting a moment to breathe properly without his touch sending me into cardiac arrest.
Hayden turns on the sink, grabs a washcloth and soap, and then checks the water’s temperature. His long fingers encircle my ankle and my hip as he helps me shift my position. “This is going to sting.”
