56

LAURA
“I know who that is,” I blurted.
He lifted a brow in an expression that said ‘no shit’. “Well, I’m assuming you do since they have your number.”
Cursing, I got up off his lap, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “Not like that. I mean, I don’t know him know him but I know who sent that text and it’s no one important.”
I cringed as soon as the words exited my mouth, realizing just how stupid and careless they sounded. And from the hurt, disbelieving and confused look on Alex’s face, he no doubt thought the same thing.
Hurrying to correct myself, I said, “What I meant to say was, I think I know who sent that text because there’s only one person who ever sends me messages like that and this one has to be from him too.”
Alex sat up, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “And who is this person?”
“I assume it’s a man. I mean, it has to be. Judging by the tone of his messages and”-I cleared my throat-“the things he usually says so, uh, definitely not a girl.”
My attempt to lighten the mood was not appreciated at all.
“Who is he, Laura?” He enunciated each word slowly and I knew it wasn’t because he thought I couldn’t hear him, but because he was trying to hold onto his patience. And I was really seriously riding on it.
I sighed, going over to sit on the sofa opposite his. “A stalker. I don’t know his name.”
“How did he get your number?”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure. Since he’d only ever initiated contact with me through emails, I’d assumed that he’d gotten my email address from my Instagram page or the company’s website.
But the fact that he’d texted me on my personal number, and what he’d said…
I was just as shocked by his text as Alex was.
“How did he get your number, Laura?” Alex pressed and I sighed again, bracing my elbows on my knees and digging my fingers into my eyes.
“I have no idea. The only number listed on my website is my work number. I don’t know how he managed to get his hands on my personal-”
“You just said it’s not the first time you’re getting messages from him,” he cut in.
“Those times were through my email,” I explained. “It’s also listed on my website and Instagram page so it’s easily accessible to everyone.”
He laughed suddenly. It was a dry, humorless sound that had me looking up at him. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that there’s a man who stalks you, threatens you, even going as far as slashing the fucking brakes of a car he knew you were driving, all just to hurt you. And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“The only reason I didn’t tell you is because I’m used to messages like that.” The words left my mouth in a rush, desperate for him to see where I was coming from. “I have tons of them in my email, but I’ve always considered them harmless. A bunch of obsessed guys. That’s all.”
Alex shot up to his feet. “Just how many of this kind of messages do you get?”
“Just a few in my spam folder, but I’ve a lot of them in my message requests on insta.”
While I would very much like to avoid them, it was impossible because my message requests and spam folders were mainly full of potential clients making inquiries. So everyday, I had to scroll through them while I did my best to ignore the unsavory ones.
“Why?” Alex snapped, confusion overriding his anger. “Why do you have men in your dms stalking you? Threatening you?”
“Maybe because I’m a woman who owns a lingerie business and models her wears?” I flung my arms in exasperation, my eyes darting around for any form of escape from this conversation. From his anger. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. And you can’t blame me for…for the fact that they’re sick.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I can blame you for the fact that you’ve been getting these messages and refused to do anything about them,” he raised his voice and I flinched.
For a brief moment, I could have sworn the fire in his eyes blanketed a bit, and something like regret crept into the green depths, but then he blinked and it was gone.
He’d never used that tone with me. Had never raised his voice at me. Not even once.
I knew he was pissed off. I got it. I’d also raised my voice at him a few times as well, but he’d never done it even when even it seemed to me like I was getting on his last nerve.
If I’d needed any indication that I’d screwed up royally, this was it.
“I thought they were harmless,” I said weakly, dropping my face in my open palms.
“You thought they were harmless,” he repeated, voice monotone. “Are you even listening to yourself?”
I’d fucked up. Massively.
“You know what the funny thing is?” It was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t bother answering. Didn’t bother lifting my head. “That day at the hospital, I suspected something wasn’t right and I was trying to make the connection because you didn’t have any problem getting from my place to your place. The brakes only seemed to start malfunctioning on the way from your place to work, but then I got distracted and…”
I knew the distraction he was referring to. We’d both gotten distracted that day and until now, I’d completely forgotten about his strange questions in that hospital room.
When Alex signed, it was in resignation. “I’m so pissed at you right now, I just-I need to walk for a bit. Clear my head.”
My head flew up in disbelief, but he was already moving. He stopped briefly beside me and hope built in my chest that he was going to… what?
Hug me? Put me on his lap again? Be with me?
But he simply dropped my phone on the sofa I was sitting on. “If you need anything, call me.”
I stared at him as he walked off, and it was only when he was at the door that I found the strength to say, “Alex, I’m sorry.”
My voice sounded just as small as I felt in that moment.
He tensed like he wanted to turn around. I saw it in the lines of his shoulder. Saw it in the way his fingers stalled on the door handle.
Hell, I willed him to come back.
Ten precious seconds passed where I hoped he would, but said hope shattered to dust when he opened the door and left.
Depleted of strength, I curled on the sofa and sobbed.
Someone made an attempt on my life.
Alex was angry with me.
I was careless and stupid.
So bloody stupid.