Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I look under the door to see my guards running. They know that's Eden’s sister on the other side of these stalls, and she's just alerted them that something is terribly wrong. I quickly place my shoes at the entrance of the dressing room door, facing away, in such a way that it looks like I'm still standing there. Hopefully, it'll buy me some time.
And I hold my head up high and escape. I walk right out, leaving my guards and Starla behind me, with Starla giggling, telling everybody that it was just a false alarm, everything's fine.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm on a bus to go see my mom.
I'm still wearing the getup I wore to escape, because it's going to be a lot easier for me if nobody comes after me right now. I want to go see my mom.
It doesn't matter if she doesn't remember who I am. I know who I am, and that's what matters.
I give myself some time at the back of the bus, my head on the headrest, the cap over my eyes. Because I need to cry.
I can't ever go back to Adriano. I can't ever go back to Bella Notte. I don't belong there.
I don't belong anywhere.
I'm not quite ready to see my mom when I get down there. But I know Adriano’s going to come after me. I know he will. I hope that he will. Do I?
A little voice in the back of my mind tells me that if I didn't want him to find me, this is definitely not the place I should go. But I also didn't leave on a whim. If my mother was asking for me, she's more lucid than I thought. Maybe there was a miracle, or some sort of intervention. Maybe she's dying and needs to tell me one last thing.
Thankfully, the ride is long, so I get to rest a little bit. But I'm still tired when I arrive in North Carolina. I remember my old haunts, the places where I would meet up with friends. The places I would go with my boyfriend, or more accurately the man of the hour. I didn't do long-term commitments, even then. Especially then.
Now that I'm alone, I draw out the file I found in Adriano's desk.
I look at every single detail. Every scrap of paper that would only be in the possession of someone who stalked me.
Pictures of me at Bella Notte, tied in ropes in a Shibari demonstration.
Me, with the nameless Dom the redhead made out with, and Adriano beat up. I'm kneeling at his feet, and he's tapping a riding crop against his legs.
Screenshots of text messages I sent Eden and Starla.
Scene after scene after scene…
Every bank account I've ever owned, every address where I've ever lived. The entire time I thought I was living a nomadic existence, Adriano had his eye on me. For a long, long time. Way longer than I’ve known him. Way longer than when he pretended he was marrying me under duress.
I suspect he’s one of the anonymous doms I had sessions with at Bella Notte. But I never suspected… this.
My hands tremble as I look through every slip of paper, because it isn't just private information, but so much more. Everything is here in vivid, stark details.
A copy of my driver’s license. Copies of my social media posts. Records from various jobs I've had, various addresses where I've lived. Places I frequented and how many times I've been there. Detailed notes about the way I look, all the way down to the size and shape of my eyes. Records of calls I've made, conversations I've had, and in detail, including conversations I've had with Eden.
I wonder if Sergio knows that Adriano was stalking me. I wonder if Sergio knew that this was a setup all along.
I exit the bus and walk the streets toward the home where my mother lives. I need to see her quickly, before Adriano finds me. He's probably already on his way here, likely after putting bullets through the heads of the men that let me slip through their fingers.
I would regret that.
The entire time I walk, I'm preoccupied with that file in my bag.
How long has he been planning this? Is there even a threat against me?
Maybe it's his goddamn obsession with me that's the threat. He's jealous of time I spend with anybody else, and he's proven that. It's why he almost killed the Dom at the club. Why he killed the people in my past that hurt me.
I thought I could do this, but I can't. It's too much.
My mother’s home looms in front of me. It's beautiful, thanks to the generous subsidy of the state. The sign tells me that visitors are welcome. The lawn is well manicured and the siding new. But as I draw nearer, the peaceful image wavers.