Stalker (The Company Book 3)

I hold my breath as I watch him bring in my assistant, holding a gun to her head.

“No!” I scream. “Don’t do it!”

I can’t believe she’s here. Shit. I totally forgot we had an appointment today. Oh, why couldn’t she stay home? And how the hell did he manage to talk her into coming inside?

Paige screams, tears running down her cheeks as she stands there motionless, not even daring to look at me.

“Why wouldn’t I? Give me one good reason,” he growls.

“She has nothing to do with your vendetta against me. Nothing. So leave her out of this,” I shout.

He jerks her arm, tightening his grip on her. The rage almost spills from his eyes. He’s taking it all out on her instead of me.

“I’m your enemy, Phoenix. Paige is innocent.”

“No one is innocent if they involve themselves with you,” he growls.

“I didn’t do anything. Please, let me go,” Paige whimpers.

“Shut up!” Phoenix snaps.

“Phoenix!” I yell, making him focus on me. “I’m here. You want me. Not her.”

He licks his lips. “You’re afraid, aren’t you? You don’t want me to hurt her.”

“Of course, not!” I yell.

“But, you see, your pain is my pleasure,” he says, pushing the gun against the back of her head. “And now that she’s here, she knows that I’ve captured you. I can’t let her go now, can I?”

“Yes, you can. She won’t tell,” I say, looking explicitly at Paige. “You won’t say anything, right Paige?”

“I won’t, I promise,” she says, shaking to the bone.

“I don’t believe that,” he hisses. “If you didn’t want to get hurt, you shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t. Hurt. Her,” I say. “There are other ways. Please, Phoenix, you’ll regret this.”

“I’ve never felt regret or remorse for killing.”

“But she’s innocent. Just because she’s involved with me doesn’t mean she’s done something wrong,” I say, sighing. “They don’t realize what I can do. Who I am.”

Phoenix narrows his eyes.

“Please …” Paige murmurs, crying.

“Please, leave her alone. I’ll give you anything you want,” I say. “Whatever you need. I’ll do it.”

“Without protest,” he says, not as a question but more as a demand.

“Yes,” I say, nodding.

For a moment, everything is quiet. He’s still pointing the gun at her head, and I’m praying that he won’t shoot. I don’t want her death on my hands. I’d feel guilty, even though I’m not the one pulling the trigger. And I know that Phoenix will make me feel guilty, regardless of whether she lives or dies. But maybe I can still save her, even if I’m not savable.

A whimper comes from her mouth, and then he jerks her backward and shoves her back through the door.

“What are you doing?” I shout. “Where are you going? Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“Please! Stop!” I hear Paige scream.

He slams the door shut. Now all I can do is listen to the ordeal. My heart thrums in my throat as I hear him haul her across the hallway. Another door creaks, and then her screams turn into muffles. It sounds like he covered her mouth. A hard slam follows, and then it’s quiet.

I wonder if he threw her down the stairs. If he’s choking her in another room. If he hit her so hard that she fell on a table, hit her head, and died. I think of many things, but not one is conclusive.

When he comes stomping back, I take a deep breath. He enters the room just as angry as before, his eyes almost scorching with heat.

“What did you do to her?” I ask.

“Yeah, you’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?”

“Did you kill her?” I growl. “Because I swear to god, if you did, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Try something?” He smirks. “Because, by all means, do it. It’ll only give me more excuses to punish you.”

I swallow back my disgust. “Tell me, is she still alive or not?”

He walks into the room and places the gun on the table. “Maybe.”

“If you don’t tell me, our agreement is off.”

“What agreement?” he muses.

“I’m not going to be an easy victim if you killed her.”

He comes close to my prison and taps on the metal. “You forgot the part where you’re in a cage, and I can do anything I want to you.”

I want to rip the smirk off his face. “Then why don’t you just say she’s dead? Why even bother waiting? If you think it doesn’t matter anyway?”

“Because I love to see the anger in your eyes,” he says, leaning in while smiling. “It reminds me of myself. It means you’re going through some emotions that I’ve experienced plenty of times.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, almost as if he can smell my rage. “Feel it, Vanessa. Feel the anger boil and know that it was me who caused it … and then realize there’s nothing in the world you can do about it.” He smiles. “And you know what the worst part of it all is? That I’ll still get my way. You wanna know why? Because this is my revenge, not yours. Mine. And everything in this place is now mine … including you. And I will use and abuse you how I see fit until I’m sated.”

“You’re sick …” I spit.

“Hmm … The question you should be asking is what will I do once I’m finished with you?”

“Let me guess … I’m probably dead.”

“Bingo!” he says, grinning as he gets up.

Bile rises in my throat as I find it hard to comprehend just how cruel he’s become. What happened to him? Did he really become this way because of me? How?

The problem is that I already know the answer. I just wish I could change the past.

However, wishing won’t change the fact that I’m in this prison. Now I have to face the consequences of my actions; each step of my past contributes to the horrible things I’m experiencing now. I just hope I can change his mind before it’s too late. Before I lose my mind. Before I say things that I’ll regret. Before he hurts me to the point of no return. Before I die.

***

Age 14

With a bright red lipstick, my mother paints my lips, making sure each stroke is as perfect as the next. She does it with her mouth open, which is weird, because I’m the one wearing the make-up. She focuses so intently on the job that she doesn’t even hear the housekeeper knocking on the door.

“Ma’am, the guests have arrived.”

My mother ignores her and picks up some mascara so she can bathe my eyelashes in them. I try to stay as still as possible while taking the occasional peek at the mirror to see what I look like. My cheeks are as rosy as when my mother slaps me, except it’s the make-up doing all the work this time.

“Ma’am?” the housekeeper says.

“We’ll be there in a minute,” my mother finally answers.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell them that you’ll be there in a second. I’ll take their coats and bring them some coffee or tea.”

“Good.” My mother’s snappy tone makes me frown, but then she says, “Ah-ah, Vanessa. No frowning. I don’t want you to mess up your make-up.”

“Sorry,” I say, sighing.

“And try to sigh a little less, too.”

“Should I stop breathing too, mother?” I ask.

She chuckles in that regular uptight tone of hers. “Nonsense, my dear. I just want you to look good.”

“No, you want me to look like a doll.”

“What’s wrong with looking like a doll, dear?” she says, smiling as she applies some last-minute powder, making me cough. “Perfect.” She grabs my shoulders and points at the mirror. “Look at how pretty you are.” I smile when I hear her compliment. “Almost as beautiful as your mother.” The smile immediately disappears.

“Mother, why are we doing this again?” I ask, as she starts pulling on my dress to make it tighter so she can zip me up.

“Because we have important visitors today, honey. I already told you that.”

“But you promised me that I could go out and have some fun today.”

“Honey … we’ve been through this already. Sometimes business gets in the way of fun.”

“What business?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she says, chuckling a little.

“But I promised Miles that I’d come and see him today,” I say.

Her face suddenly turns rigid. “Miles? You mean that boy?”

“Yes. I like him.”

“Well, I don’t,” she snaps, zipping me up so quickly that I have to suck in a breath.

I put my arms at my side. “You said he couldn’t come to my party. I hated not having him there. I wish you’d allowed him inside the house.”

“Oh, no,” she says. “That filthy boy? Never.”

“Filthy? He’s not filthy,” I say, making a face.

“Honey, he spends half his time on the streets.”

“That’s because he hates his foster parents.” He hates them so much, he never even allowed me to meet them. That’s how ashamed he was.

“And he behaves like a wild animal,” my mother adds, as she pats her own hair and admires herself in the mirror.

“That’s because they bully him, so he fights back.”

“I don’t care why he does it. I don’t want him in my house.”

“Well, you promised me that I could go out and do what I wanted after what happened at the party.”

“No, I said you could go out and have some fun but only with nice, well-educated children.”

“I’m not a child anymore, Mother, and I don’t like this at all. I want to see Miles. I don’t want to meet your ‘important people.’” I make quotation marks with my fingers.

“I don’t care what you want, darling. You will not go out and see him. Not today.”

“Not any day if it were up to you,” I sneer.

“Exactly,” she says, turning toward me. “Don’t act like I don’t have your best interests at heart. You know that I want what’s best for you, and Miles is not it.”

I wince. “No, you have your best interests at heart.”

She sighs. “Honey, we don’t have time for this. We’ll have this discussion another day.” She grabs my hand. “Our guests are waiting.”

“No! I don’t want to.” I jerk my arm, but she’s not letting me go.

“You’re going to see them whether you want to or not,” she hisses, turning her head toward me like a snake who’s about to bite off my head.

“No, let go of me,” I yell.

“Sometimes you just have to do what you don’t want to because it’s the best in the long run. You can’t have what you desire, but you’ll get so much more in return,” she mutters as she drags me toward the door.

“Let me go!” I yell.

Right as she opens the door, the housekeeper is knocking, and her hand stops midair, her eyes zooming in on us. “Is everything okay, ma’am?”

“Yes.” My mother immediately directs her attention toward me. “Now you’re going to behave,” she whispers. “You’re going to be nice to our guests. You’re going to be cordial, sweet, charming, and everything that makes a woman desirable. You will talk to them like the good girl you are, or I will make sure you never set foot outside this house again. Is that understood?”

I swallow, frowning in silent protest. I keep my lips slammed together, refusing to answer.

“You will do as I say, or I will have that boy … Miles …”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” I say.

She squints. “Hmm … you think your mother is capable of harming a human being?”

“I know you’d let others do the hurting. As long as you get what you want,” I say.

I’ve seen her do it plenty of times. With my aunt, for example. Her little boy was only eight when a truck ‘accidentally’ hit him. He died shortly after due to a brain hemorrhage. Of course, it was no accident; that truck bore the logo of one of the funders for my father’s campaign. My aunt had threatened to expose my father’s shady practices for acquiring money. In the end, he still won, so I guess my aunt learned her lesson.

Never cross my parents. My mother is the worst of them; she’s usually the one behind all the drama. My father knows only ten percent of the things she does. I know because I asked him one time, and he acted like he didn’t know a thing about it. Of course, I do watch the news, and I know how to spot my father’s sponsors. I’ve met them many times, and I know their logos. It’s just so sad that they think they can hide their evil acts from me. It’s like they’re still trying to pretend they’re good, for me.

Except my mother has slowly been showing her true colors to me, like today. I’ve seen her behave like a wicked witch before. But she’s never threatened to hurt someone I like before.

It’s like she’s only nice to me when she wants something from me. In this case, it’s talking to some people. I’m sure there’s more to it than she’s letting me know.

She pushes me through the hallway and into the living room, where a couple is sitting on the couch, and, judging from their wrinkles and desperate attempts to hide them, they’re about the same age as my parents. A boy gets up from his seat across the room, smiling like an idiot when he sees me.

“Vanessa,” my mother says as the people stand up to greet me. “Meet the Starr’s.”

The boy is the first to grab my hand and shake it. “Hi, I’m Phillip.”

“Hi,” I say, a little unsure of what to do.

“You’re adorable. Just perfect for my little boy,” his mother says, and I shake her thin, bony hand.

His father pinches my cheek, making me cringe. “What a lovely girl.”

I pull on my mother’s sleeve, and she leans in to listen to my question. “What does she mean with ‘for my little boy?’”

My mother clears her throat. “Let’s go sit with our guests.”

The happy, anxious looks on their faces creep me out, as if they’re expecting some kind of performance from me. “Mother, who are these people?” I whisper as we all walk back to the couch.

“Don’t be rude, Vanessa. These people are important. They support your father’s campaign.”

“Oh …” I say. Not another one.

“Their boy is very nice. He even attends the same school you do.”

“My high school?” I ask, perplexed. “I’ve never seen him there before.”

“Well, he does, so I’m sure you two will be able to find each other now. You’ll grow fond of him, I’m sure.”

“Why? I don’t even know him yet. Hard to tell from here,” I say.

“You’ll get to know him soon enough, my dear. Better than you imagined.” She chuckles a little.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well,” she whispers as we sit down, “he’ll make an excellent husband for you.”

The fake smile plastered on my face cracks through the middle. I swallow, as I see the world and my future as I imagined it fading before my eyes. I wanted to go out and see the world, to kiss different boys and tell my girlfriends what it would be like, to marry the man of my dreams when I was ready, and to become an actress because that’s what I like to do. Those were my dreams.

And now my dreams have shattered in two.

As I stare out the window, listening to the endless chatter between the adults, I see a boy with a magnifying glass outside in the grass not far from our house. His dark eyes bore into mine as he stops, lifts his head, and gazes at me with a look that’s as much broken as mine.

My mother didn’t want him here on my birthday. Not once was I allowed to invite him inside. So I didn’t. I distanced myself from him. I wanted to protect him from her wrath. She’d kill him if she found out how I felt about him. She promised me that I could go out and spend some time with him later. I guess it was all a lie to make me do what she wanted. They all lie … and my mother is the worst of them all.

“C’mon, Vanessa,” my mother suddenly says, and she grabs my hand and pulls me up from the couch.

“Where are we going? I thought we had guests,” I say as she pulls me to another room.

“Yes, but we have to discuss something.”

“Now?”

“Now.” Her command brings chills to my bones. She’s so angry sometimes that it scares me. I can never please her, but now it seems as if she wants to skin me alive.

As she stops near a window, she taps her foot and looks at me as if I’m supposed to say something. I don’t know what she wants, so I continue staring out the window instead. Miles is there, and I love looking at him from afar. Sometimes I wish I could just leave my body where it was and fly out into the world without her ever noticing.

“What are you looking at?” my mother says. “That boy again?”

I nod, still a little absent in my mind.

“Stop. This is the last time you’ll ever speak or even think about him again.” Her pointy nail tilts my head, forcing me to look at her. “You will focus all your attention on Phillip and his parents. They deserve it. That boy out there? He doesn’t …” She leans in. “And if I find out that you’re hanging out with him, I’ll come and get rid of him myself. Is that understood?”

The implications in her statement make me shiver.

“Yes, Mother,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes.

Her nail scratches me as she lets go of my chin. “Good girl. I promise you that it’ll all be worth it.” She smiles, a light, high-noted chuckle coming from her mouth. “Soon, you’ll forget all about that filth. Phillip and his family have so much more to offer. Did you know that his father owns a directing company? And he’s going to give it all to Phillip when the boy is twenty. Can you imagine the kind of wealth he’ll have?”

She bends over and places a hand on my shoulder. “It could all be yours. So behave like a real lady and make that boy feel like he needs you more than anything else in this world. Make him believe you’re God’s gift to man … just like I did when I met your father.”

She licks her lips. “You’ll see … eventually, all your dreams will come true. All good things come to those who wait.”

I nod, believing what she says to be true. I know my mother, and I don’t want to see Miles get hurt. I guess it’s for my own good … as well as his. Any price is worth it when it comes to dreams.

But she’s not talking about my dreams. They are hers.

***

Present

I should’ve known Miles … Phoenix would come to hate me for pulling away. It was in both our interests, but it broke my heart. I reckon it destroyed his confidence. I never told him why I did what I did. Why he wasn’t allowed at the party. Why my parents hated him. Why I couldn’t be with him, despite what my heart was telling me.

It was for the best, even though listening to my mother turned me into a conniving bitch. I did what I had to do to survive. To save him and myself.

Too bad he didn’t see it that way.

And now I must pay the price.