Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I don’t want to look at those pictures any more than I have to.
It doesn’t take long to get the table sorted, photos in a neat stack on top of the emails he printed out between him and his lawyer and the notes in his neat scrawl. All that’s left is the manila file folder underneath it all. I lift it to read the label printed on the tab curiously as I take a seat on the couch. Confusion swims through my mind, thick and syrupy, when I read my own name.
What would Nick have a file on me for? Is it information that might help figure out who did this, or maybe paperwork I need to go through to help his lawyer or the cops?
It feels awfully thick for those possibilities.
Flipping it open with my thumb, I start scanning through the text. Page after page of information about me is laid out in neat black text. My height, my weight, my birthday, my hometown. Every address I’ve ever lived at, extracurriculars I took in college, my childhood. My lunch order from the cafe Taylor and I eat at sometimes. Information on my friends, where I get my groceries, my fucking mom.
“What the fuck?” I whisper into the silent room, horror creeping through my veins.
This isn’t information for whatever case Nick may be working to build around the photos, and it sure as shit isn’t information he could have gotten in a single night. He’s had this.
How long has he had this?
Why does he have it?
Who the fuck told him all this?
My heart pounds in my chest as panic creeps up my spine, and I damn near jump out of my own skin when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I scramble for it, pulling it out with shaking hands, and what greets me only makes things worse.
It’s a picture of me from last night, blurry and obviously taken on a phone camera. I’m sitting in my car with my hands clenched tightly around my steering wheel, wide-eyed and panicked.
I was still in the parking garage of Nick’s building when this was taken.
Unknown Number: Sleeping your way to the top is going to end badly…
My breath hitches in my chest, coming fast and shallow as I lock my phone and fling it down onto the couch cushions beside me, along with the file.
I can’t do this. Whatever the hell is going on, I can’t handle it.
My whole body shakes, and I make no attempt to fight off the panic searing like fire through my veins. It’s all too much to deal with at once.
Panic consumes me in full force. So much so that I barely hear the sound of the front door opening over my own gasping breaths.
“I’m home!” Nick calls out as the door clicks shut behind him, and I can’t help but flinch at the chipper sound of his voice. “Riley?”
Half of me wants to call out to him and half of me wants to hide.
His footsteps come down the hallway, and I whip my head up when his shadow crosses the office doorway.
“Riley!” He drops his jacket to the floor and rushes in, steely eyes hard with concern as they rake over my body. His knees hit the floor in front of me as he cups my tear-stained cheeks with warm palms. “Princess, what happened? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t touch me!” I shriek, shoving him back.
Pushing him is about as effective as pushing a brick wall, but he leans back anyway, dropping his hands to give me space.
“Riley?” he asks, confused and cautious. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”
“I found your little file,” I grate out, snagging the folder up from the couch beside me and slamming it into his chest. “What the fuck is going on, Nick?”
His gaze drops down to the file pressed against his chest before meeting mine once more. Instead of explaining, his brows narrow as he snatches the folder away from me like it’s poison, gripping it hard enough that the edges crumple.
“You were looking through my office?” he barks, glaring at me as he pushes up to his feet. “I let you in my house, and you go snooping through my stuff?”
A furious laugh tears out of my throat as I stand drilling a finger into his chest.
“You don’t get to be mad!” I shout, incredulous rage bubbling in my throat. “You’ve been fucking stalking me! I haven’t told you a single goddamn thing about myself that isn’t in that folder!” A dangerous, terrifying thought wraps itself around my brain stem, and I take a slow step away from him, closer to the door. “Are the pictures even real?”
“What?” Nick’s voice softens with confusion as he blinks at me. “What do you mean? You saw them!”
“I saw them mysteriously show up at your door with no note and no explanation!” I press, inching closer to hysterical. “Who says you aren’t behind them? Is this all just some big charade? Scare me to earn my trust and seem like some knight in shining armor? Have you just been lying to me this whole time?”