Page 6 of Sweet Possession
Her mouth drops open, eyes narrow.
Shit. She’s mad.
ChapterFour
REMI
“Are you stalking me?” My chest heaves in anticipation of his next words. Admittedly, I’m glad he followed me, but I’m also a little freaked out. I thought he had finally left me alone when he wasn’t in the club tonight. But no. He was just biding his time and waiting for me.
He stares at me, his face blank of any emotion before he speaks. “Stalking is a bit of a strong term. I prefer to call it ‘making sure you got home safely.’”
My mouth drops open. This man has no shame and is not one bit disturbed about what he is doing. I should run away as fast as I can. Far away from Asher, who seems to think his behavior is normal, but something keeps me rooted to the spot. I don’t know him all that well, but I’m not scared of him like I think I should be. He did save me from what could have been a bad attack, after all. “Why are you doing this?” I blurt.
He sighs as if I exasperate him and slides his hands into his pockets. “You know why. I already told you. I want to know everything about you. You feel like…” he trails off, huffing a laugh and shaking his head like he can’t quite believe what he is saying. I pin him with a stare, urging him to finish what he was about to say, and he does. “Like mine.” My eyes widen at his admission. I feel likehis. He knows nothing about me. All our time together was spent giving little tidbits. He doesn’t know the real me. Yes, he knows my name, and that I’m a stripper, but nothing about who I am. I wonder if he would be following me like some creep if he did.
I shake my head. “I’m not yours, Asher. I’m not anyone’s.” Even as I say the words, they feel wrong. I do feel things when I’m with him, things I have never felt before, but that doesn’t mean I am going to act on them. I need to focus on getting my life together. On school. I don’t need the complication of some man.
“Get in the car, Remi, I’m taking you home.” He ignores my statement, spins, and strides to his very shiny black Audi. When he reaches the door, he glances over at where I stand, not moving from the spot he found me in. “Now,” he barks so loud, I yelp then stupidly follow his orders and scramble to his car. He smiles, the look triumphant. “Good girl,” he praises when I reach the door. I swallow as something washes over me. A sense of calm at those two little words. For some reason, I want to be hisgood girl.I want to please him.
We both climb into the vehicle and when I am belted up, he starts the ignition, looks at me, and asks, “Where to?” I suddenly feel embarrassed and my cheeks heat. I swallow. It shouldn’t matter where I live, but I feel self-conscious as I sit here with this man in his nice car as he wears his nice clothes. I move to open the door, only to stop when the locks click into place. “Don’t even think about it. Now tell me where you live, so I can take you home.”
“Downtown, SW seventh street.” I say quietly.
His head reels back, and a scowl takes over his beautiful face. “You were going to walk on your own nearly two miles through downtown?” His voice is angry as he clenches his jaw, and his hands strangle the steering wheel. He takes in a breath as if he is trying to calm himself. My brows furrow in confusion.
Why does he care where I walk?
I shrug. “I need to work. I don’t drive, so I walk.”
He growls, and I flinch. “Do you have any idea of the crime rate in this area? What could happen to you? How many times have you been attacked walking home?”
“Tonight was the first night,” I lie. It may have been the first time I was held with a knife to my throat, but it’s not the first time I’ve been harassed. I just got away before anything could happen before.
“You won’t walk anymore. In fact, you don’t work at that place anymore. You quit. Call them now and tell them.” He says with so much conviction, I almost do just that.
But something stops me, and a laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. He must be joking. Right? His eyes narrow in on me. “You can’t tell me what to do.” I chuckle, thinking he’s joking, only for it to cut off when he watches me as if I’m the crazy one that just told someone they barely know where they can and can’t work. My eyes widen in realization. “Wait, you’re serious?”
He nods once. “As a heart attack. Call them.”
“No.” I shake my head as if to drive the point home.
“No?” he repeats like he’s testing the word out.
“Asher,” I say in a soft voice like I’m talking to a child. “Do you not see that your behavior is crazy? You barely know me. You can’t tell me to quit my job.”
He eyes me for a long beat as if debating what to say, but all that leaves his mouth is a “Hmm” before he puts the car in drive and peels away from the curb.
* * *
Around ten minutes later, we pull up to my rundown apartment building. Asher was right, I shouldn’t be walking around on my own in the dark. The area is rough and dangerous. But needs must and all that. I have no choice but to do what I’m doing.
Chancing a glance at him, I find him staring out the windshield, his jaw clenched, knuckles turning white where he grips the steering wheel. Why is he angry? I’m not his responsibility, even if he thinks otherwise.
“Thank you for the ride,” I say, breaking the silence. Unclipping my seatbelt, I grab the handle and open the door, ready to get the hell out of here, when a hand grips my elbow.
“You live here?” There is something in his voice that I can’t quiet place. Almost as if he’s trying to calm himself but is majorly failing.
I follow his line of sight. The graffitied walls. The broken windows. Yeah, the place isn’t paradise, but it’s home. For now. “No, I had you drive me here for the fun of it.” I roll my eyes as I squirm out of his hold.