Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Just as I’m wrapping up everything with her video and tying up loose ends, I receive a notification that her in-depth background check has been completed, and while I know none of this shit is my business, I can’t help myself.
I open it up and search through every facet of her life, and within seconds, I’m stumped. Tilly isn’t even her name. It’s Natalie Bardot. Tilly is nothing more than a nickname she’s adopted and ran with, but I prefer it.
I read through all her details. Her current and past addresses. What school she went to. Her hometown. Where she was born and raised. The name of her family pet. Fuck, by the time I’m done, I even know that the hamster she had in fourth grade was given a full burial after it died of suspicious circumstances.
With every piece of information I learn about this woman, I find myself needing to know more. There’s a possessiveness there that I haven’t experienced with anyone before, not even Zephyr’s mom, and that makes me sick. The things I did because of that woman were unforgivable and cost me ten years of my life, so what the fuck would I be capable of with a woman who lives rent-free in my head?
Fuck. I don’t even need to ask the question. I already know. There’s not a single goddamn line I wouldn’t cross for her. Which is why I find myself submitting an order for a full surveillance setup at her apartment and surrounding buildings, ordered as top priority.
I’m a sick bastard, what can I say?
My team will have it complete by close of business today, and it’ll be done discreetly. Tilly will have no idea that her home is covered in Di Rozé software, every inch of her apartment accessible through a live camera feed that will be available only to me. My men will even hand-deliver me a spare key to her apartment, but it won’t be necessary. If I need to get in there, I won’t be stopping to search for a key; I’ll be knocking the fucking door down.
Will I tell myself that I’m doing this for her safety? Absolutely, and while that’s partly true, it’s not the only factor playing a role. I did this for me. Am I a sick pervert who’s quickly developing an irrational obsession with a twenty-two-year-old woman, currently screwing my son? Yeah, it’s looking that way.
I’m not proud of myself.
The idea of setting up cameras in her home repulses me, but you don’t see me canceling the work order. It’s not as though I’m going to watch her all day, jerking off while she showers. It’s just to check in, to make sure she’s alright and has everything she needs. At least, that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.
I need to have my eyes on her. I need to know every movement of her day. I need to know that no other bastard has his hands on what should be mine. Zeph not included. I really don’t mind their relationship. It’s just sex, nothing else. Sure, there’s a friendship, though something tells me that once they’ve fucked each other out of their systems and Zeph moves on to his next conquest, all that will remain is their friendship.
As for Tilly, there’s nothing for her to move on to. Once she’s done with Zephyr, all that will remain is me, and considering I fulfill every sexual need and desire she could ever dream of, she won’t be going anywhere. The only question is, what happens when the sex isn’t enough for her anymore? When she wants more from me and needs the emotional connection just as much as the physical.
The thought of it makes me sick. Not because having a woman like Tilly fall for me is a bad thing. It’s the opposite. It’s the reason why I made her promise that she would never fall in love with me.
I can’t be trusted, and I’m sure if she knew who I really was or what I was capable of, she would keep her distance. Or perhaps not. In the past ten days, she’s accidentally shown the world her pretty little cunt, found herself an online troll who may or may not be a stalker, has screwed a complete stranger in a college bathroom, allowed him to take her home, only to then fuck his father. She doesn’t strike me as the type to always make good decisions, but I can’t complain because each of those decisions has brought her right into my orbit.
Over the past week and a half, getting that girl out of my head has become next to impossible. At first, I thought just a taste would appease my appetite, but a taste is never enough. I had to have her, and now that I have, there’s no way I’m looking back.