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“This is the right place, ma’am.”
“It’s not. Take them down. Now.”
I glanced out at the other handful of men installing security cameras around the perimeter of my cottage.
“I can’t do that, ma’am.”
“Take them down, or I will call the police.”
“Feel free; I have all the paperwork in order.”
I clenched my fists. The morning breeze was gentle, but I wouldn’t be in about five seconds.
“If you don’t take those down, I will knock them down with a baseball bat!”
The guy rolled his eyes and gave me a dismissive wave.
“Destruction of private property is a crime,” he said lazily and continued securing the camera in place.
“This is my private property!”
“This here is part of the Lockwood estate, ma’am.”
I blinked.
“Hunter Lockwood ordered these?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mother. F’er.
Rationally, I knew Hunter meant well and that he was doing this as an act of protection.
But installing cameras around someone’s private residence was acompleteinvasion of privacy. I had found solace in the comfort of my yard, doing yoga and going for walks because it was the only place I was free from the suffocating thoughts in my head. Now I couldn’t even hide on the side of the cottage out of view from the mansion—someone would be watching my every move, robbing me of my sanctuary.
The sight of the camera triggered a momentary flashback of reporters shoving their intrusive lenses into my face—voyeurs getting footage for their smear campaigns. Also without my consent.
I clenched my fists tighter, my lip quivering.
How dare Hunter install cameras like this? I thought we’d shared a special understanding yesterday, but evidently, he had so little respect for me, that he didn’t even think I deserved a choice in the matter, nor a heads-up.
How stupid of me to let my guard down. I had started to trust him a little, and he went and did this.
What an act of betrayal.
I did not pass go. I did not collect $200. I charged up the expansive emerald lawn separating our homes.
Hunter’s mansion sat on a hilltop of arrogance, looking down at the people he apparently thought he could control.
It was a longer walk than I preferred, but I was still blood-pumping furious when I reached his ridiculously gigantic front doors. Who had solid mahogany doors with intricate hand-carved designs? Presumably custom-made.
I raised my fists and leaned into them, ready to pound so hard, it might crack one of those designs, but when I swung, the door flew open.
I gasped, flailing my arms to try to regain my balance, but face-planted into the bare chest of Hunter Lockwood. Wearing a pair of casual gray cotton pants and nothing else, he caught me in his firm arms. And had the audacity to hold me for a beat.
I shoved Hunter off me and glared at him.
“How did you know I was here before I knocked?”
