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“Please, stop. You’re scaring me,” I cry softly. My nails dig into my thighs, trying to distract myself from the pain that’s taking over the rest of my body. My breathing comes in harsh pants, and I feel like I’m hyperventilating.
“Oh, Beautiful, no,” he whispers, his own voice breaking. “Fearing me is the very last thing you should feel.” His lips whisper against my cheek. “I know all this sounds crazy and deluded. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I swear on everything I have, on everything I am, on my name and everything I stand for, I will never hurt you.”
He just doesn’t get it.
“But you already have,” I tell him softly. Turning to finally look at him, I let him see the fear and pain he’s caused me through my eyes. What shocks me is the pain I see reflected back at me. It’s so sharp you’d think I stabbed him in the heart with a dull blade. I hate how the look makes my chest feel even tighter.
“Please, let me go.” I hold his gaze, refusing to back down, begging him to see how much I need him to let me go. I’m at my breaking point. What he’s done has hurt me beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. He made me fall in love with a lie. He made me fall in love with him, knowing his sick obsession would be the end of me.
After searching my gaze for several moments, my breath catches at the fear I see enter his own eyes. I stiffen when he drops his head and lays a tender kiss against my lips. I keep mine sealed shut. Never again will I allow him to kiss me with the passion he’d shown me before. He doesn’t linger. He pulls his head back, then slowly lifts his body from mine. I lay there, not moving until he’s standing beside the bed. My hands automatically go to the sheet still covering my chest.
“I’ll let you go for now, but this isn’t over. I’ll give you time to come to grips with everything, but I’ll never give you up.” He runs both hands through his hair with agitation before finishing softly. “I can’t.”
With that, he turns and slowly makes his way to the door, opens it, and silently walks through. As soon as the door is closed, I run to it and click the lock, only to realize I’m still in his room. Making sure the sheet covers every part of my body, I unlock the door and bolt across the living room to my own bedroom, keeping my eyes away from him as I go. I lock the door behind me, go to my bed, curl into a ball on my side, and cry all the pain and heartache I feel out into my pillow.
I don’t know how long I laid in bed, crying, but eventually I fell asleep. My head hurts and I feel sick to my stomach when I open my eyes and remember all that transpired. I want to believe so much that Asher would never hurt me, but I don’t know what to believe. All I know is I want to go home. I don’t want to be here in his vicinity anymore. What started out as a dream vacation turned into one of the best times of my life, before turning into the worst. I really thought I found someone I could spend the rest of my life with. I guess that’s what I get for falling for someone I never really even knew. Yes, I’ve worked for Asher for quite a while now, but I never really knew anything personal about him.
I just don’t get why, if he was so obsessed with me, he didn’t come to me sooner like a real man would. Why keep it all a secret? Why send me mysterious flowers? Why put cameras in my house? I shudder at the thought. Why follow and check up on me everywhere? Why not just come to me and tell me how he felt? Why keep me in the dark? That would be the logical thing to do, right?
All these questions are ones I’ll never get the answers to, because now it’s too late. It doesn’t matter what the answers are, and I don’t want to know them at this point.
I pull myself from the bed and groggily make my way to the en suite bathroom. My mouth feels like I swallowed cotton balls and my body aches. I want nothing more than to wash off the feeling of Asher that he left behind from last night. I think back to the few times we had sex and thank God I’m on the pill because we never used a condom.
After spending thirty minutes in the shower and having another cryfest, I step out and dry myself off. I cried because I needed Asher’s smell off my body, but it hurt to wash it away, knowing I’ll never have it on me again.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see the mark he left behind last night, the one that left me feeling such pride and satisfaction. Now I just want to scrub it away. I hate knowing it’ll be there for several days to come, reminding me of what we had. Or what I thought we had.
Feeling disgusted, I turn and walk out to the bedroom and root around for some clothes. After pulling on a pair of black yoga pants, a blue short sleeved shirt and flip flops, I pack the rest of my stuff. I take my suitcase with my smaller travel bag on top and my purse over my shoulder out to the living room. I spy Asher sitting on the balcony. I put my stuff by the door and with a heavy heart and dread filling me, I head in his direction. I don’t want to see or speak to him, but I have to in order to get home.
Taking a deep breath, I pull open the sliding glass door, step through the threshold, and stop in my tracks. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since I last saw him, but the condition he’s in looks like I haven’t seen him in a week, and in that week he’s been out here the entire time. He’s sitting in a lounge chair, his legs spread wide and his hand is wrapped around a half empty glass tumbler. He’s still in his jeans with no shirt, but it’s his face that has my heart seizing. He looks haggard. When he hears me step outside, he slowly turns his head. His eyes are red and look dull, and his hair is more a disheveled mess than it normally is. He obviously hasn’t shaved since yesterday, because his face has a thin layer of dark hair. When he sees me, a small glimmer of light enters his eyes. He lifts his glass to his lips and empties it.
I shift on my feet and look away from him. “I’d like to go home now.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. I feel his eyes assessing me, but I keep mine away and wait him out. Eventually, out the corner of my eye, I see him set his glass down on the table before standing up. I take a step back when he walks my way. His gait is slow and cautious, but it makes me no less uneasy. I ache with uncertainty.
“Pop—” He starts, but I forestall him by holding up my hand.
I can’t hear him talk right now. I still don’t understand how I never recognized his voice when we spoke on the phone those few times, while he was acting as Sterling. Was I so enamored with him that I blocked out any recognition? I know he changed his accent slightly, but he can’t be that good.
“Please, just call the jet. I can’t…” I stop to clear my clogged throat and look at him. “I don’t want to be here with you.”
He stops and unbearable pain washes over his face before he wipes it clean, a determined look taking its place.
He nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket. It’s not the same one he used earlier. His eyes stay on me as he brings the phone to his ear.
“Phil, I need the jet back now.” He pauses a moment, then, “Yes, everything’s fine. Something unexpected came up.”
After a quick good-bye, he hangs up, slipping his phone back in his pocket. I stand there for several more seconds, before turning and walking back inside. I feel his presence behind me, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything else and stays far enough away. Without a word to him, I go back to my room and close the door behind me. Releasing the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I slump back on the bed. Tears prick my eyes, but I force them back.
I have no idea what to do with myself. I work for Asher, but there’s no way I can do that now, knowing what he did. I no longer trust him. I have some savings, but that won’t last me long. I’ll have to find ano
ther job. I have cameras in my house and have no idea where they are. I no longer feel safe there. I have a tracking device on my car. Asher pretty much said he wasn’t giving up on me, and I have no idea what he’s willing to do to get me to agree to be with him.
My phone jingles in my pocket. I pull it out and see Liv’s name. I push ignore, not ready to talk to her. She’ll know right away something is wrong, and I’m not ready to talk about it yet. She’s my best friend, and I’ll eventually have to tell her, especially since I’m not going back to work, but I need a few days to process and come to terms with what’s happened.
And hope I can get my damn chest to stop feeling like it’s caving in on me.
Chapter Seventeen
