Blaine
The city sign for Chicago comes into view. Five days I’ve been apart from Azira, and already I’m losing it. I’m here to track her down and observe her from afar-stalk her, basically.
I need to ensure she’s not with another man. After all, she was quick to accept a date with Rizzo to the hockey game, so God knows what she’ll be up to back in Chicago.
Azira is completely unaware that after that game, I installed spyware on her cell phone.
I can track her anywhere in this world. There’s nowhere she can run where I can’t find her.
Hell, if she went to Timbuktu, I’d know about it.
I take a left and find the parking lot closest to Bloomingdale’s and park my vehicle, getting out and surveying where the exit is. Azira had to be in a fucking Bloomingdale’s the day I arrive in Chicago.
It’s not exactly the kind of place I’d ever be caught dead in, but I sense Azira is the kind of girl who loves going shopping and doing things that would make my stomach churn.
I walk to Bloomingdale’s, keeping an eye now and then on the tracker on my phone to ensure she hasn’t moved somewhere else. Unfortunately for me, she hasn’t.
Entering the department store, I ensure I’m hyperaware of my surroundings as the last thing I want is Azira catching me checking up on her, as it would no doubt give her the wrong impression.
She may have been a virgin at the start of this school year, but I am not a fool to think she’s never dated. I’m simply here to check she’s not out gallivanting with other men.
There’s an odd sensation pulling at my gut the moment I think that, and I sense it’s because a part of me is in denial.
Why do I care if she’s with another man, if this is nothing but sex?
I push the thought from my mind and focus on finding her. My questionable actions when it comes to this girl aren’t under scrutiny right now.
Where would a young girl be in Bloomingdale’s?
No doubt the womens wear section.
I ride the elevator up to the third floor and walk with caution around the floor until I hear her voice calling from the changing rooms.
“Fine, I’m going to keep searching for the perfect dress. None of these I like.”
My heart practically stops beating as I move away from the entrance and dart behind a mannequin just as she appears. There’s a large man wearing a suit lingering nearby and when he sees her, he moves closer. A twist of possessive rage coils through me, but I can tell by the way he keeps his distance, he is merely her bodyguard.
After all, the mobsters of Chicago are at war with one another. So it’s only normal that she has a bodyguard to ensure her safety.
She looks stunning in a simple yet beautiful floral dress that comes just below her knees and her hair is up in an elegant bun. I swallow hard as my cock turns hard at the sight of her, but I know I can’t act on my desires.
Coming all the way to Chicago from Maine just to check up on her would certainly give her the wrong impression.
I watch her as she walks over to some racks on the far wall and starts to sort through dresses.
She looks stunning and more mature than her actual age.
I clench my jaw, glancing around in search of any man she might be here with.
And that’s when I see Killian Callaghan slip out of the dressing room and skirt past Azira at lightning speed.
A few moments later, her sister, Mia Sidorov, slips out, adjusting her skirt.
I arch a brow and watch as Mia approaches her sister as if she didn’t just slip out of the changing room where she was with Killian. Azira appears completely unaware.
Azira glances in my direction, but I dart quickly out of her sight behind the mannequin.
She doesn’t see me, thankfully, but the look on her face suggests she can feel me watching her.
I’m going to have to be more careful if I don’t want to get caught.
A shop assistance clocks me and makes her way toward where I’m hiding.
It’s at that point I realize I’m hiding in the fucking lingerie section looking like some kind of creep.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, thanks.” I pretend to be looking at some bras. I mean men buy underwear for their girlfriends all the time. It’s not that weird.
“Are you sure? I assume you’re shopping for someone special?”
I grit my teeth. “Yeah, my girlfriend.”
The woman looks a little skeptical, but nods. “Anything you want in particular?”
“You know what, when I said I don’t need help, I meant it.”
Her eyes widen at my tone, but she’s getting in the way right now. I don’t need her bringing attention to me. “Okay, give me a shout if you need anything.” She walks away and I dart back toward the mannequin to check for Azira.
She’s gone.
“Fuck’s sake.” I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and check the tracking to find she’s left the building.
I race out of Bloomingdale’s and take a left, following them down the street. Their bodyguard remains with them, but always a few steps behind. They take a left down a smaller street and then stop in front of a little Italian restaurant before disappearing inside.
Great.
There’s no way I can go inside without being spotted, so I go into the cafe opposite instead and pick a table by the window.
Azira may not be with a man at the moment, but I intend to keep an eye on her for a couple of days, no matter how crazy that makes me.
I’ve never been so possessive of a woman before, but it means nothing.
She’s the perfect sub, and that’s why I want her all to myself.
At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.