Yes, Masters (Book 2 of Desire's Den)

Chapter 28 - Emma

Later that day, I found myself once again locked inside my own apartment. My thoughts too scrambled to make sense of any of them. But my feelings on the other hand, were prominent and hard to dismiss. I was full of nerves and sexual frustration; the combo was awful and not recommended. What had happened with Mateo shouldn't have happened. I was scared that my stalker would somehow find out and hurt him because of me. That type of fear was even worse than fearing for myself. If something happened to Mateo—something like what had happened to Oliver—it would be on me, and I wouldn't be able to bear that weight.

My half-eaten dinner had turned cold. It wasn't easy for me these days to eat. I'd thought it would be better today though. I had arrived home with a bag full of veggies and noodles, having planned to make Gideon's stir-fry. I'd thought that after spending some much-needed time with Mateo it would've improved my appetite; I'd been jittery, and there had been so much life in me, but it soon changed when there was another package from my stalker at my door. Talk about a fucking crash right down to reality. This time, I'd gotten this doll that used to be popular in the early two thousands—I knew, because I used to have a doll just like it when I was younger—with it was the standard note. It was my sixth gift from him. I shuddered just thinking about it.

What the hell was his fascination with children's clothing and toys? Clearly, he was deranged, and that made me worry what length he would go to to make sure I was following his orders.

My phone rang after I'd forced myself to start getting ready for work. My hands turned shaky as I placed my eyeshadow brush down on the bathroom counter. Hesitantly, I picked up my phone and looked at the screen. A part of me was convinced it was my stalker, and that he knew about Mateo and me. I let out a breath of relief when I saw it was Kevin.

I debated not answering, but I figured I couldn't avoid him forever.

"Hi," I greeted him, trying to keep my voice light.

"What would you know, she actually knows how to answer her phone," he said sarcastically, but there was a sound of relief in there as well. "I've been trying to call you for days, why haven't you gotten back to me?"

I could hear the sad tone in his voice, and I frowned. I'd never wanted to hurt Kevin's feelings, but...it was hard for me to talk to him. He was my best friend and hiding something from him was damn near impossible. And...truth be told, I hadn't been in the mood to hear his bubbly voice and hear how amazing he had it with his boyfriend. I was jealous of my friend. I didn't want to be, but I was, nevertheless. It cracked my heart a little as I came to that realization, because I'd avoided to think about it. Kevin deserved all the happiness he could find, and I should be happy for him. I mean...I was happy for him, but I was also deeply, deeply envious.

"I'm sorry, Kevin. I've been—

"Busy," he cut me off. "Yeah, I know. But I miss you. We haven't seen each other in ages, and it's been days since we last talked. Days, Emma, do you hear that? It's been days! When have we ever gone that long without talking to each other?"

A tear threatened to escape from my suddenly watery eyes, but I didn't let it. I'd been crying too much already, and I was emotionally done with shedding tears. "I miss you too," I whispered weakly.

"Then why can't we hangout soon? We don't have to go out or anything, we could just be at your place or mine. Maybe watch a trashy movie?" He sounded so hopeful; it physically broke me.

"You don't understand, Kevin. I can't." There must've been something in my voice that tipped him off, even when I'd tried to keep it steady. He went silent for much too long, making my pulse speed up.

My hand clenched the phone hard, afraid of what he would say when he finally broke the silence.

He couldn't know. The thought went on repeat as I waited. If he finds out, he'll hurt him. He promised he would, and after what happened with Oliver, I believed he would actually hurt anyone who found out about him—he'd already shown he didn't mind dirtying his hands with blood and pain. It wasn't just what happened with Oliver that made me believe he would truly hurt those I cared about. It was also the sick gifts that proved how crazy he was, or how he had the knowledge to break into my apartment without leaving a mark. It was the way he was sane enough to never out himself to me, to never let me catch onto who he was. He was smart—too smart, knowing my moves practically before I made them.