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Of me.
This morning. I’m outside the library, talking to James beside the coffee cart. The photographer has captured us at the moment he was reaching to pick that lint from my hair.
It looks like he’s caressing my cheek.
My heart pounds. I stare at the photo in disbelief.
Who took this? Someone was following me?
I check the envelope again, and a scrap of paper falls out. A handwritten note, with no name.
Does Sebastian know you’re not as innocent as you seem?
19
AVERY
I barely sleep that night,and not because I’m still shaken by the intensity of my climax with Sebastian, pinned there against the piano he bought, just for me. My mind is spinning, and my body is wired, tight with this new, unthinkable threat.
Someone’s been following me.
But who sent the photo? Why? Is it some kind of threat?
What do they want from me?
I briefly wonder if it’s Sebastian’s doing, keeping tabs, but I know that’s not it. He wouldn’t have watched me from a distance, taking photos like some kind of creepy paparazzi stalking a celebrity. It’s not his style. He’s direct—to a fault. Last night proved that beyond all question.
What about Becca? Those are almost the same words she said to me that morning:
“You’re not as innocent as you seem…”
But what’s her angle here? Is she trying to scare me away from Sebastian out of jealousy—or some twisted idea of protection?
My list of other suspects is frustratingly short. I don’t know anybody else in London—and they wouldn’t know me, either. I’ve been here a matter of weeks, and hardly met anyone, unless I’m out on Sebastian’s arm. And even then, I’m not important enough to register, they’re all just focused on getting to him. I’m the arm-candy, his latest flavor of the week. Nobody even thinks I’ll last the month with him, so they wouldn’t go out of their way to target me like this.
… Unless someone has discovered the truth about my real mission here.
That idea is even more chilling.
I thought I’d covered my tracks, but if they’ve seen me at the library, then they must know I’m not just out shopping all day. That I’m busy with a secret project—that involves tracking down any information I can about Sebastian and his company.
But if it is Becca who’s discovered what I’m really doing here, and she wants to expose me, then why send the photos to me? Surely she would just take that information straight to Sebastian, and have him confront me instead.
No… The stalker-style photo, the anonymous note. It feels like a warning… But why?
I puzzle over it from every angle, but by the time morning finally dawns, I’m no closer to figuring out what’s going on.
Whatever the truth is, one thing is clear: I’m running out of time.
I’ve been lulled into a kind of routine here the past week, a twisted kind of normalcy. By day, I carry out my research, learning more about Sebastian and his business dealings. And by night… I learn a whole different kind of lesson, as he masterfully pushes my body to breaking point, showing me a pleasure that I never dreamed possible.
And can’t forgive myself for enjoying.
It’s a routine, a seductive rhythm I’ve settled into, but now that has to change. And not just because last night’s lesson has shaken me to the core, and shown me a glimpse of something inside me I don’t want to see. If my cover could be blown at any minute, I need to shift gears—and fast. No more library research, fact-finding missions, no more loitering around the house, hoping to sneak a look in locked rooms and private drawers.
No more begging for him, as he strips away my defenses and leaves me sobbing with pleasure.
I’ve beenreactingto Sebastian. Letting him set the terms of this arrangement. Playing along with his games and biding my time.
