Page 208 of Hate to Love You

Deciding to fuck with him, I gently push Lily off my lap, before switching on the TV. After a few minutes of scrolling, I find the perfect video. With a small laugh I run into the kitchen, sliding to a stop as my socks lose their grip on the tiles.

I grab a glass, throw in a piece of ice, and skip back into the living room. With the glass in hand, I stand in front of my TV recording a video of The Studio in the background. I watch it a few times making sure that it looks okay before heading back over to my recliner. I snuggle my shoulders into the comforter and send it to Roman, giggling to myself.

Me

4:30 a.m.: Attached Video.

The instant reply doesn’t come, causing a smile to stretch across my face. The urge to stand up and dance flies through me, but I push that thought aside, as I kick my feet against the chair, bopping my head to the bass through the TV.

Take that Mr. You-Will-Stay-Home-And-Not-Kill-Anyone.

My phone vibrates in my hand, causing my racing heart to stop.

Roman

4:40 a.m.: Pretty little LIAR, look outside your window.

Shit.

Look outside my window? What does that even mean?

I tuck my phone into my bra, and slowly walk toward the front of the house.

How creepy does this man want to be?

I take a deep breath and inch the window curtain open. I scan my yard and see nothing. Just as I let the curtain fall, I see movement out of the corner of my eye.

Tearing the curtain back from the window once more, I glare directly at Oleg, who stands dutifully by my front door. He meets my glare with a shrug of the shoulders, giving me a salute.

Grinding my teeth, I stride toward the back of the house, only to open my backdoor and find another man standing watch. He stares at me, his eyes focused on my exposed thighs before rising to my chest. Every second he stares at me causes my blood to boil.

“You should go back inside and shut that door, honey,” he says darkly, a smirk on his lips.

I slam the door shut before throwing each lock on it.

Standing in my dark kitchen, my chest heaving as my heart races, I yank my phone out of my bra.

Me

4:44 a.m.: Are you fucking serious right now?

Me

4:45 a.m.: Fuck off Roman.

With a sigh I head back to the living room, watching that little chat bubble indicating he’s typing.

Roman

4:46 a.m.: You’re mine.

I throw my phone at the recliner with a scream, scaring poor Lily half to death.

Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck everything.

He thinks he owns me? No.

No one will ever own me.