“Hey,” I whisper when I answer if only to silence the noise.
I know Wren knows I’m in here, but I figure staying quiet will lower his persistence and he’ll just leave.
I haven’t called her before now because I didn’t want to give half-truths and scare her until I had more information, but even if Jones wouldn’t have been arrested, I would’ve reached out to her. This isn’t something I can navigate on my own.
“Sorry I missed your call. Where have you been the last few days? You haven’t responded to my texts.”
I swallow against the tears threatening to render me speechless. How can I confess that I’ve been so wrapped up in Wren Nelson that I’ve let everything else in the world fade into the background? Sarah definitely deserves a better friend than what she’s found in me.
“Hold on,” I whisper as I scoop Simon up from the couch and head straight to my bedroom.
Another knock hits my front door, but it’s not a violent one, just loud enough to get my attention. Wren doesn’t deserve another minute of my focus and after I’m done getting advice from Sarah, I plan to eradicate him from my life completely. It’s only been two months of interaction, so it shouldn’t be too hard.
Without disclosing anything personal, I tell her everything. I leak information about Jones and how finding incriminating evidence on him led me to leaving and how I was prepared to give up my entire life to stay safe. I blame the thought of losing everything for the tears that stripe my cheeks. Then I tell her about my abduction in Des Moines and she chuckles, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all but knowing it’s something I always wanted.
“You told Wren about that fantasy?”
Her question stops me cold because I did. That information was something I told him. It wasn’t something I ever put online because that’s the kind of shit that can really get you killed while allowing the attacker sort of an alibi, or at least permission if things went wrong.
Sarah knew of this fantasy because she told me about several agencies that focused on rape fantasy and such, but I’d never actually go through with something like that with a stranger.
“I did.”
“Sounds hot as fuck,” she whispers. “Was it good?”
“It was,” I confess because I’m not fool enough to discount all of the good stuff even though the bad outweighs it by tons. “But he’s been stalking me.”
“Excuse me?”
I go into every detail I can remember about meeting him online and meeting him on the elevator and how it all just seemed perfect, and then I drop the bomb about the box she had shipped.
“He took it.”
“I didn’t go broke sending the second package.”
“You’re not understanding,” I argue. “He had the box the entire time. Everything was a setup.”
“Are you sure you’re not being a little paranoid?” I frown, wondering if she’s playing devil’s advocate right now or if she honestly thinks I’ve blown things out of proportion. “Did you ever get a creepy vibe from him?”
“Murderers aren’t creepy,” I mutter. “They’re charismatic and charming. They catch you when your guard is down.”
“Didn’t you say like four or five other guys on his team showed up at the airport to escort you back to his apartment to keep you safe?”
“Maybe they’re all in on it,” I begin. “Maybe they’re all some gross team of men who like to hurt people.”
“That’s a little farfetched, Whitney. Even for you.”
I sigh, my eyes staying trained on my closed bedroom door as if he’s going to bust in at any moment. The thought doesn’t terrify me. Even after finding the box and my heart breaking, I never once thought he would hurt me physically. If anything, I’d prefer to avoid the damn fight, because deep down I know I’ll cave.
Dating is hard. Being a computer nerd who practically isolates herself in her apartment and dating? That’s impossible. I’d resolved myself with becoming a cat lady spinster, and sadly enough I was growing okay with the idea.
Then the fucking handsome, dominant, and charming Wren Nelson popped up in my life like a miracle sent from the gods of hunks and turned me stupid.
Fucking men.
I hate them all.
“He’s a fucking stalker,” I continue. “I can’t trust a damn thing that happened after that box was delivered.”
“Okay.” She pauses, probably mulling over thoughts on how to approach this situation differently. My best friend has always been analytical. It’s why we get along so well. “What happened before the box?”
“Nothing,” I confess. “The elevator meeting, his inclusion into Orc’s Realm, all of it happened after the delivery date on the box.”
“Well shit,” she sighs.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Tell me about Blackbridge.”
“I shouldn’t go digging through their stuff. Wren is the best of the best. There’s no way I can do that.”
“Because you tried and hit his firewalls.”
“Exactly,” I mutter.
“When did you do that? Tonight?”
I remain silent, my answer evident in my lack of response.
“Hmm.”
“Don’t hmm me, Sarah Revone.”
“Do you honestly think those hot-as-hell commandos would go through the trouble of helping him if he’s a bad guy?”
“Did you miss the part where I said his friends are probably all involved with hurting people?”
She sighs again, but I know she isn’t even close to hanging up on me. The woman has the patience of a saint. I mentioned she’s a Domme, right?
“You know better. Did any of them seem submissive?”
I can’t help the laugh that vibrates out of my throat. “Not even close, but Ignacio is so damn hot, I think even you would listen to him boss you around.”
She grunts her disagreement.
“Can we get back to my life, please? He’s psycho.”
“You met
