Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
But as the anxiety creeps back in, I give in and dial his number.
“Olivia,” he says, answering quickly. “I’ve been waiting. Did you not see my texts? Are you okay?”
I let out a shaky breath.
“Not really,” I admit. “I... well. I mean, I did see your texts, yes, I just haven’t had much chance to reply. Work was so busy, and…”
I inhale through my nose, pushing through my natural instinct to pretend that everything is absolutely fine all of the time.
“I had a run-in with someone this morning. A photographer. He was waiting outside my building.”
“What?” His voice sharpens instantly. “Outside your apartment? I - wait. Did he say anything to you?”
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing hard. “He asked a lot of questions about us, about you - about me. He wouldn’t stop, even when I told him I had nothing to say. Several times.”
Santi curses under his breath in Spanish. “Did he follow you?”
“I - yes, kind of,” I reply, my voice trembling. “He didn’t follow me to work or anything, but he walked after me for a little bit. But… he knows where I live, Santi. How on earth does he know that?! It feels so bloody intrusive.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line.
When Santi speaks again, his voice is calm, but firm.
“I should’ve anticipated this,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Olivia. I didn’t think it would escalate like this. Especially not so quickly.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say. “I just - I don’t really know how to handle this. I’ve never been in this kind of situation, and I almost feel like my life isn’t mine anymore. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” he says softly. “I know it’s hard, and I know this isn’t what you signed up for, and I hate that you’re being dragged into it just because of me.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “It’s because of us. And I don’t regret being with you, Santi. It’s just... overwhelming. That’s all.”
There’s another pause, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.
“Where are you now?” he asks.
As if he doesn’t already know the answer.
It’s a Friday night - where else would I be?!
“At home.”
“Okay. I want you to come to my place tonight.”
His voice is gentle but insistent, and I frown at the phone as though he can see me through it.
“What?” I blink, caught off guard. “No, Santi, it’s fine. We’re seeing each other tomorrow, you don’t have to -”
“Olivia,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’d feel better if you were here. If you stayed here. Here, I have security. I’d know you are safe, and I wouldn’t have to worry about someone trying to bother you.”
I chew on my bottom lip as I quickly think it over.
Santi’s been to my apartment plenty of times, and it’s always felt more than comfortable. Familiar, even. Having him here has been a nice balance; a way to keep things grounded and intimate - like our very own personal bubble.
The thought of stepping into his space - whatever luxury that may be - makes me nervous.
“I mean, I don’t… I just don’t want to impose,” I say, unable to think of a real, logical answer.
We’ve been dating for almost four months now, and I’ve been his girlfriend for two. There’s no reason I can come up with for why I shouldn’t, or can’t, go to his place for the night.
“You could never impose,” he says, his tone softening. “And I’d honestly feel better having you here, Olivia. Please.”
The sincerity in his voice chips away at the last of my hesitation.
“Okay,” I agree before I can second-guess myself any further. “I’ll stay.”
“Perfect,” he says, the relief audible in his tone. I almost smile despite the circumstances. “I’m just finishing off here, but I’ll text you the address and have someone come to pick you up. I’ll meet you there, okay?”
“Alright,” I reply.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “And don’t speak to anyone other than the driver. Don’t give those pieces of shit anything.”
“I won’t,” I agree.
“Alright, baby. I’ll see you soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I tug at the hem of my t-shirt nervously as the car pulls up in front of Santi’s building.
That’s it.
We’re here.
The building is impossibly tall, its glass facade practically gleaming. It’s the kind of place that makes you immediately straighten - intimidating before you even step inside.
The driver opens my door, offering a polite nod as I step out.
“Have a good evening, Miss Bennett,” he says.
I murmur a quick thank you, my nerves getting the better of me as I move towards the building. It’s impossible not to take immediate notice of the two uniformed security guards standing by the entrance, their muscular arms folded over their chests as their sharp eyes scan all directions of the street before them.