Unhinged Desires : A Dark Romance (Sick Love Duet Book 1)
Unhinged Desires: Chapter 14

“How was it?” I ask Shar when she walks through the front door of her apartment. I might have let myself in, but I did bring wine. Which I know, after the hellish interviews she’s been enduring lately, she definitely needs.

“Argh, don’t ask,” she groans as she tosses her bag on the floor before throwing herself on the couch.

“Come on, Shar, it couldn’t have been that bad,” I say, trying to be the glass is half-full kind of girl while handing her a very full glass of ice-cold prosecco.

Shar takes a huge gulp of the liquid. “I should just learn how to dance. I’d make more money in a gentleman’s club in one night than I do in a whole week at the grocery store,” she sighs. “It’s obvious I’m not going to get any kind of decent-paying job or even just a decent job.” Her head leans back against the couch and her eyes close. “I can’t even get an internship.”

“Okay, that would be a stellar plan if you didn’t have two left feet and absolutely no rhythm about you at all,” I tell her. “You know, I know people who know people. I could make a phone call and…” My sentence stops when Shar sends her well-practiced death glare my way. “Okay, hear me out,” I plead as I pour myself another healthy serving of wine. “I know you want to do this all by yourself and be the independent woman. Blah, blah, blah, but…” I pause, waiting for the eye roll I know is coming.

Shar follows it up with a hand in the air in a stop motion. “I don’t want to be your charity case, Lucy. I won’t be your charity case.”

I shake my head. “It’s not charity. Honestly, you’d be doing me a huge favour.”

Her eyes narrow in on me. “How? Please tell me how you getting me a pity position somewhere using your family’s connections is going to be helping you?” She laughs.

“I was forced to take a job while I’m on break from uni, but it’s like a really shitty job. I don’t want to do it. I actually couldn’t think of anything worse than working the summer away in some office, answering phone calls and scheduling meetings. But… you could take the job for me. No one will even know it’s not me. You keep the pay; I keep my holiday plan of sleeping in till noon and partying all night,” I tell her, liking the sound of my impromptu idea more and more.

Uni break is still a few days away, but it’s believable that I’d be starting a job next week… right?

“Okay, first of all, nobody will ever believe that I am you. You’re on every tabloid there is. And second of all…” Shar stops her sentence, unable to come up with a proper argument.

“Fine, don’t pretend to be me. I’ll call the company and tell them I can’t make it and that you’ll be filling my role. It’s only for twelve weeks, Shar, and besides, it will give you something to pad your resume with at the very least.”

“What company is it?” she asks warily.

I stand and grab my bag. Because, frankly, that is not a question I’m going to answer. “Shit, I forgot I have a thing. I’ll send you the address. Be there on Monday morning at eight. Don’t be late. I’ve heard the boss is a real grumpy asshole who hates tardiness. Personally, I think he’s got a stick up his ass, but the pay is great,” I tell her as I rush out her front door.

By the time I get to my building, I receive a text message from Shar confirming that she’s on board with my plan.

SHAR:

What do I wear on Monday? I don’t have officey clothes. Maybe you should just do the job.

I tap out a reply and press send.

ME:

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I’ll come by Sunday. We’ll go out and have lunch and sort out your wardrobe.

I bring up my brother’s number on my phone. Thankfully he answers right away. “LuLu, what can I do for you?” he asks.

“I need a job. You got any openings?”

“Why would you want a job and why would you want one here?” He’s already expecting the worst and he hasn’t even witnessed the big reveal yet. I’ll let him figure it out on Monday.

“I’m almost on uni break. I want to expand my horizons, so can you help me or not?”

“As a matter of fact, I just had an opening come up today. I need a new PA and you’d be fucking perfect for the job,” he says.

“Great, I’ll start Monday. Talk later. I gotta go.” I hang up before he can ask me any more questions. By the time Shar and Xavier realise I’ve lied to them both, it’ll be too late. I know Xavier will not turn her away once she’s there. I also know Shar is far too stubborn to admit defeat on the first day of a new job—even if that job is working for my grouch of a big brother.

“Miss Lucy, this delivery came for you while you were out.” The doorman stops me as I’m making my way through the foyer.

I take the big black box and smaller red bag that’s sitting on top of it from his arms. “Thanks, Shawn.” I smile politely and continue to the elevator.

As soon as I’m in my apartment, I walk into my bedroom and drop the black box on my bed. That’s when I see the Chanel logo printed across the top. My mum must have bought something last minute.

The little red bag slips off the top and flips onto my bed. I pick it up and pull out a red Cartier box. Opening the leather case, I’m blinded by the teardrop diamond that sits on a platinum chain. There are matching diamond earrings inside as well.

Okay, I know my mum loves shopping for me and all, but this is not from her. I’m certain of it.

I put the box down and dig through the bag, looking for a card, receipt, anything that could give me a hint about the sender. There’s nothing. I dig into the black Chanel box and find a card on top of the tissue paper. My hands shake as I open the envelope and pull out the note. I already know it’s from him. Whoever he is.

Wear this one. It looks stunning on you. — D

That’s it. He signed it? I guess if you’re going to have a crazed stalker, it’s better that he have money to buy decent creepy-ass gifts, right?

I toss the card on my bedside table and move the tissue paper aside to reveal the same black dress I tried on this morning at the store. Okay, that’s beyond fucking creepy. This is just downright terrifying. I look over my shoulder, that sense of being watched stronger than ever before. Dropping the dress back into the box, I turn on my heels and start my walk through the apartment. Checking every room, every cabinet.

Fifteen minutes later, I sigh in relief. There is no one here. I can’t accept these gifts though. I need to give them back. Or throw them in the bin. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up my phone and dial that unknown number. And this “D” person answers on the very first ring.

“Little Bee, is there a problem?” His deep, raspy voice sends shivers down my spine.

“Yes, a big one. Whatever game you’re playing, I’m out. This has gone too far, and I don’t want to play. Forget I exist, and stop sending me shit. If I want to bloody buy stuff, I’ll buy it myself.” I’m met by silence after my rant. I pull the phone away from my ear to check that I’m still connected. I am. “Are you ignoring me?” I ask him.

“No, just trying to figure out why you’d deny yourself beautiful things. I know you like that dress,” he says.

“That’s not the point. I’m donating it to whatever local op shop I can find. I don’t want shit from you, or anyone else for that matter.”

“That’s not true, Little Bee. There is something you want. You just don’t want to admit it,” he says.

Call me stupid, but I buy into his bullshit. “What would that be?”

“You want me to make you come again. You want me to make your body tremble with desire the way only I can. You want your pussy to pulse around your fingers as you listen to my voice while you drown in pleasure.”

Well, shit, when he puts it like that, I can’t deny that he’s right. I do want that. Not that I’d admit it to him.

“Lie down on the bed, Little Bee,” he says.

My head whips around. How does he know I’m in my room?

“Do you have cameras in here? In my room? How do you know where I am?” I ask him.

“Lucky guess. Now, lie down.”

“No, I think I’ll stand right where I am,” I say, even though I do walk over to the bed and sit down.

The chuckle that fills my ear sends a bolt of lightning to my core. Damn it, how is his voice able to do this to me?

“What are you wearing right now?” he asks.

“Why don’t you tell me, seeing as you seem to know everything?”

“You’re wearing a pair of denim shorts that are far too short to be worn in public, and a white tee that shows the lace of your bra under it,” he says.

I look down at myself, at the exact articles of clothing he just described.

“Tell me, Little Bee, how does it make you feel to know I’m watching you?”

“Petrified.”

“What else?” he urges.

I think about it. I’m scared. Don’t get me wrong… I know this is going to end badly for me. But beneath that, there’s a hint of excitement too.

“I feel alive,” I tell him. “I feel like someone sees me, the real me, not the version the rest of the world wants me to be.”

“I do see you, Little Bee, and you’re fucking breathtaking.”

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