Stalker (The Company Book 3)
Stalker: Chapter 11

Age 13

“What’s that filth doing here?”

I hear her screeching voice before I see her, but when she pushes past the housekeeper to see who’s standing in front of her door, I finally get to see the wicked witch, as Vanessa calls her. Vanessa’s mother stares down at me with chapped, pursed lips, her frown so tight I expect it to be permanent. I wonder if she’s ever not grumpy. I understand the nickname now.

“What are you doing here?” she asks again, this time in an even more condescending tone.

“It’s Vanessa’s birthday, isn’t it?” I say, smiling politely. I already hate this woman just because of the way she talks to me, but I want to be nice for Vanessa’s sake.

“So?” she says, blocking the doorway as if she’s afraid I might run in.

“I have a present,” I say, holding it up for her to see.

Her lips rise a little, like a dog sniffing something they despise. The housekeeper takes it after Vanessa’s mother refuses to budge. “I’ll give it to her.”

“Don’t call her,” the mother says to the housekeeper, who turns on her heels and walks inside.

I frown. “Can’t I come inside? I want to wish her a happy birthday.”

Vanessa’s mother holds onto the door with her French manicured nails. “Vanessa is busy.”

When she tries to close the door, I say, “Wait,” and put my foot in to block her.

I didn’t think the wicked witch could look any more terrifying than she already did, but I was wrong. “What are you doing?”

“Vanessa!” I call out.

“No!” the mother says. “I said she’s busy, and you’re not invited.”

“But it’s her birthday and I want to give her my present!” I say.

I hear footsteps coming down the staircase, and for a second, I spot a bright smile in the corner, just behind her mother. It’s her. In a sky blue, sparkly dress, she walks down the hallway toward me. However, the moment she sets her eyes on me, they turn gloomy and her smile dissipates like the sun on a cloudy day.

“Thank you for your gift. Now go,” her mother says, shoving me forward, and then she slams the door shut. I barely manage to save my own foot, but I can still hear her mutter, “filthy boy.”

I should’ve known this would happen. Of course, it did. They all respond the same way when they meet me. I’m the boy who doesn’t have parents and whose foster parents don’t like him. They only wanted me for the extra money it provided. Who would ever want someone like me as their kid? The rebel boy who beats everyone up if they try to talk to him. The dangerous, filthy kind.

And now Vanessa’s seen it, too. I could see it in her pessimistic eyes … it was as if she felt sorry for me.

I take out the tiny, plastic cup with filtered lid on top from inside my pocket and open the cap, setting the butterfly, which I meant to give her as a secret extra gift, free.

Why do I even try to change people’s perception of me? It’s a waste of time, so I’m done now. I won’t try to fight it anymore. Instead, I’ll just be who I’m supposed to be.

If you can’t beat them, join them.

***

Age 14

At times when Vanessa is not around, my heart feels like it’s turning to stone. I need friends, people to talk to, but everyone only listens to the rumors and then they’re scared of me before they’ve even talked to me. It’s like I don’t even get a chance. Just because I occasionally lash out at bullies. Is it so wrong to put your foot down and draw a line? I can’t help that people piss me off so much.

The only ones who will talk to me are the goths with their tats and piercings. They’re two years older than I am, but they offered me a smoke. I guess it’s their way to see if I want to belong to their group or not, and if I could fit in.

Soon, I’m spending most of my free time in their group, as Vanessa is growing more and more distant. I wonder if it’s because of the pressure her parents put on her. I don’t understand why she cares so much, but whatever. I guess achieving something is worth more than doing what you enjoy.

I’m standing at a corner around the building with the group, and they’re passing along a joint, so naturally I take it, too. I want to know what it’s like, and there’s no harm in trying it out. It’s not like I’ll get addicted after one whiff.

As I take a breath, I cough immediately, and the guys all laugh. I quickly hand the joint to one of my friends, whose piercings make him look tough. The way he takes a drag, standing tall like nothing affects him, makes me admire him. Maybe I should think about getting some piercings and tattoos, too. I’m already deemed a dangerous guy without them, so might as well fit in with the crowd.

When the second round of smoking comes, a few people walk by the gate, and I try to hide the joint in my jacket. Too late, though. Vanessa is walking by, and her jaw just dropped.

She stampedes toward me and then stops right in front of me as I stare her down. “What are you doing?” she asks.

The guys begin to laugh, so I grab her by the arms and push her forward so I can talk privately. “Not now, okay?”

“Yes, now. Is that … a joint?”

“Yes, it is,” I say, tucking it further into my pocket until only the bud is visible, so it won’t burn a hole in my clothes. “But it’s none of your business.”

She frowns and makes a face. “Since when? Why do you do this?”

“Because I like it,” I say, shrugging. “Nothing wrong with that.”

She swipes my hand off her shoulder as if she thinks I’m dirty. “It’s wrong, Miles, and you know that. Since when did you become one of them?”

“I’m not. I’m just doing what I want.”

“Well, it’s not good for you,” she says, placing her hands on her side, as if she’s all that.

“I don’t need lecturing from you,” I hiss, leaning forward. “And in case you didn’t notice, they aren’t the nicest people, so I suggest you don’t go yelling across the yard what it is that we’re doing here.”

“Or what?” Her eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me now?”

“No, I’m simply trying to warn you,” I say, looking into both her eyes. “They’re dangerous.”

“That’s what they said about you, too, and yet I know better.” She swallows. “And so do you.”

I sigh, feeling worse than I already did just from the disappointed look on her face. I hate feeling this way … like I’m useless, like I’m doing everything wrong. “Maybe I don’t want to know better.”

She shakes her head, mumbling, “Never mind.”

And then she turns around and strides away on those high heels of hers, pissing me off. Why in the hell is she running away from me? It’s as if she’s so mad that she doesn’t think I’m even worth talking to. Fuck.

I jog after her and grab her arm, but she jerks loose, shoving me away. “Let me go.”

“No, I wanna talk.”

“You made your point,” she says. “I won’t bother you anymore.” She turns to walk again.

“No, wait!” I stand in her way and say, “Don’t walk away from me.”

“Why not? You’re doing the same thing.”

I frown. “I’m not walking away from anything.”

She places her finger on my chest, tapping on the place where my heart is. “You’re walking away from the right thing, and what you’re doing now … that isn’t it.”

I grab her hand and pull, causing her to step closer. “They’re my only friends, Vanessa. You can’t ask me to ditch them. That isn’t right, either.”

“You’re hanging out with the wrong crowd. They’re not your friends. Not good ones, anyway.” She looks up at me, tucking her brown curls behind her ears, and for the first time, I feel something more than just happiness when I see her. I feel anger … frustration … need.

Something wells up inside me, something primal, but I push it away because it feels bad.

“Then what should I do? Stay alone forever? Have no friends at all? Since I’m labeled as a piece of shit, they’re the only ones who’ll have me. In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t start out as well as you did.”

She makes a face. “That’s a low blow, and you know it. How dare you.” Her eyes are getting watery, and my muscles clench from seeing her hurt. “I thought I was your friend. But I guess that’s not enough for you.”

She tries to turn and walk away again, but I grab both her arms and shove her up against the wall with everything I have. I growl and breathe out loud, trying to calm myself down. All the pent-up rage is coming out as she’s cowering underneath me; her petite frame is easy to keep in place. Her chest rises with each breath she takes, directing all attention toward her ample tits, which have grown so big out of nowhere.

How did she get so attractive all of the sudden?

It’s like I never noticed how beautiful she actually is.

“You’re scaring me,” she says with a high-pitched voice, which alerts all my senses.

I lean in further, mesmerized by her sparkling eyes and her pink, parted lips. They make me want to touch her in ways I’ve never thought of before. The closer I move, the more she shivers, and everything in this world disappears except us. I can’t take my mind off her and off what she does to me. She stirs something inside me, something I’ve never felt before, but I want it. I need it. I have to have it.

So I hover close to her lips, waiting for her to push me away. I expect her to. She hates me for what I did, despises me for picking the wrong thing. And yet, she still lets me brush her lips with mine. Just that warm breath, the touch of her lips, drives me insane, to the point of me smashing my mouth onto hers in full force.

I’ve never kissed a girl before, but fuck, it feels good. It’s everything I expected and more. So much more, that I just can’t get enough. I kiss her softly, trying to feel my way to what she wants and likes. I want her to feel me, to see the real me. I want her to like me again … and I want her happy. This is the only way I know how to fix what I’ve broken. Us.

When our kiss ends, I feel like I should’ve done this a long time ago. She takes her lips off mine and blinks a couple of times, probably a little shaken.

I smile. “You are enough for me.”

Her head turns toward the sound next to us. There are girls looking at us, giggling, hiding their smiles behind their hands. Her eyes widen and her lips part. “Shit.”

“What?” I say.

She unlatches herself from my arms and pushes me aside. “I have to go.”

“What? Now?” I say, trying to hold onto her hand.

But the more I pull, the more she runs. “I can’t …” she mutters, and then she directs her attention toward the girls. “Please, don’t tell anyone,” she begs them.

And that’s when my heart is crushed and stomped on.

My nose twitches from the fury flowing through my veins. How could she say that?

For a moment, she turns her head to me. “I’m sorry, Miles. I can’t.”

And then she lets go of my hand and runs inside.

***

Present, a few days later …

She consumed me.

She ruined my life.

And I will destroy her in return.

Growling, I pick up the nearest pot of flowers and smash it into the wall. Fuck. That feels good. I need to feel the rage again, so I can connect with my thirst for revenge. Fucking with her has sucked out a bit of my will to hurt her, and I don’t get why. I thought humiliating her like that would make the revenge sweet as hell. Instead, it only made me hungry for more.

I can’t stand the thought of having her near me, but I can’t stand the thought of letting her go. As much as I despise her, I still have these uncontrollable urges when I’m around her. I constantly lust after her. All I think about is tasting those sweet, delicious lips, burying my cock in her wet, yielding pussy, and claiming her as my own. Just as I should have done a long time ago.

Fucking hell. I’m a weak son of a bitch.

I pick up another vase and throw it at the wall, watching it shatter it into a million bits. The wall dents, but my pent-up rage is still not under control. I can’t stop thinking about her, and I hate it. I fucking hate it!

Why do I torture myself like this?

Grinding my teeth, I shake my head and knock on my temple with my fist. “Keep yourself together, Phoenix. You can do this. You can punish her. You can make her bleed. Remember what she did,” I tell myself over and over again.

Memories of her smiling as she sees me in jail get me fuming and ready for the next attack. Maybe I had a moment of weakness. Maybe I do want to fuck her until she can no longer stand. Maybe I still want to hear her scream my name. But now, I can use my filthy lust to my advantage. Her body is my playground, and I’ll use it in whatever way I deem necessary to get the job done. If it means carving her with my knife, I’ll do just that. If it means shoving my cock into her throat and making her come from my voice alone, I’ll do just that.

Sex isn’t just to feel good. I can use it as a tool to make her feel like a dirty whore. It’ll be my weapon of choice. My cock will bring her to her knees. I’ll have her begging for mercy before she dies.

I can hear her call out my name over and over again from the attic, but I’m far too busy casually strolling around her house to check the place out. It’s enormous and out of proportion, much like her inflated ego. Must be due to all that money she got from that asshat husband who cheated on her before he was killed.

I have to admit, she’s done quite well, even though she married that asshole. I guess being a manipulative, conniving bitch can get you places. Much like her mother, the wicked witch. Oh, they’re all the same, those women … they’d kill for power. Not just figuratively.

It’s probably why I feel so disgusted when I look at Vanessa. What she’s capable of blows my mind, and yet it’s funny because I’m capable of the exact things when it comes to protecting what I love.

In her case, it was money.

In my case, it was power.

I guess the two go hand in hand. No wonder we’re together again after all this time. We’re like flies on a shit pile, attracted to the same filthy stench.

Aiming for Phillip’s portrait, standing next to a box of his old books, I shoot his face off, shattering the glass in the process. Upstairs, Vanessa is screaming her lungs out, probably afraid that I’m killing someone else now. She can think that; it will only add to the fun I’m having.

As I walk into the hallway leading up to the front door, I notice the huge portrait hanging on the wall. It’s a giant picture of Vanessa in a different floral dress, a big hat, and high heels, cupping her fake blond curls while she smiles at the camera as if she’s some kind of celebrity. Maybe she is, but I don’t give a damn. All that matters is that she’s in a cage, sulking, and covered in my cum. Such a fitting image for a girl like her.

I aim and fire, filling the canvas with holes. The pretty picture is gone; ripped sheets and a chipped frame is all that’s left. Not so pretty anymore. Just like her heart.

“What’s going on?” I hear her yell.

I don’t respond because I enjoy the look on her face when she doesn’t get what she wants, and I’m sure she’ll gaze at me that way when I come back up to the attic. Her looks always got her what she wanted, but not anymore. Not with me.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and I frown as I turn around. Who the fuck would come to this place?

I walk to the door and peek through the hole in the wood. It’s a girl, barely twenty, and she’s holding a bunch of papers and a phone. “Vanessa?”

She clearly has some business with my Princess, but I’m not interested in people minding my business. However, if she’s here, that means she knows something’s wrong if I don’t open the door. I don’t want anyone sniffing around this place. Mulling it over, I decide to open the door.

“Hello, can I help you?” I say with the biggest, fakest smile I’ve ever conjured.

“Um … excuse me, who are you?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, seeing as I’m in this house and you’re standing outside, I should be asking you that question.”

She makes a face as if she’s not amused. Whatever. I like my wicked sense of humor.

“I’m Paige, her assistant. She’s not picking up her phone, and we’ve got some things to discuss.”

“Okay …” I scratch my head for a second. “How did you get past the gate?”

“I have a key,” she says, holding it up.

Interesting.

“Who are you again?” she asks.

I cock my head. “I didn’t say, but let me ask you a few questions.”

“Why.” She peeks over my shoulder. “Vanessa?”

Sighing, I say, “She’s busy. But anyway, you work for her … you’re still so young, damn. I didn’t realize Vanessa had such a young assistant.”

I spot a hint of a smile. “Yeah, I’m kind of good at what I do. Now, can you let me pass?”

“I can tell that you’re rather meticulous in what you do,” I say with a wink. “So, Paige. Are you still in college or something?”

She folds her arms. “No. Finished last year.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I say. “I never even finished high school.”

“Hmpf.”

She doesn’t seem too impressed. Not the point, either. I just want her details, and I’m not stopping my interrogation until I’m a hundred percent sure that she’s not a threat. Not that I wouldn’t kill her. Hell, I don’t give two shits about this person I just met, but I do want to know if someone would come and look for her if she went missing.

“So, you live on your own, Paige?” I ask.

She frowns. “Um … yeah … I guess. Not with my parents, at least.”

I place my hand on the door. “Sorry, if that’s creepy. I’m just asking because I think you’re rather … cute.” I almost bit my tongue there, but I made it through that sentence. Whew.

Her cheeks flush, and she sucks in her lips. “Oh … Thank you,” she murmurs. “Well, yeah, I don’t have a boyfriend, if that’s what you mean.”

“Awesome.” I give her my flirty smile, and after a wink, she’s completely hooked. I know how to charm a girl. I also know how to fuck one up. “I wouldn’t want to live with my parents either, bringing home a guy like me.” She giggles a little when I lean in. “And I definitely want to come to your place.”

“I don’t have parents, so no problem there,” she says, muffling a laugh.

“Oh, well, isn’t that convenient.”

She makes a face. “Excuse me?”

“Did they die?” I ask, grabbing her arm.

She leans away from me. “Yes …”

“And no other family?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I just want to know if I can fuck you without people asking you how you got so worked up. When I fuck a girl, I do it so hard that you’ll see the marks for days to come.”

Her eyes widen. “No, no,” she stutters. “There’s no one.”

“Good,” I say, tightening my grip.

“Okay, I’d appreciate it if you would let me go now.”

I smile viciously, already tasting the fear drifting through the air. “Not a chance in hell.”

I drag her into the house and slam the door shut, revealing my gun to her.

She screams, but I silence her by placing my hand over her mouth. “You’re coming with me.”

I direct her upstairs, pushing her with the gun to her back. I’m curious to see Vanessa’s reaction. As I slam the door open, she jolts up from the floor; her look changes from scared shitless to raging mad immediately. Priceless.

“Missed me?” I say, sticking my head through the door first, while I hold onto my victim’s wrists.

“Not a chance. What the hell are you doing down there?” she says. “I swear, I could hear you talking.”

“Destroying everything you love,” I muse with a big smile on my face. “Love what you did with the place. Oh, by the way, here’s your assistant.”

When I haul her into the room, Vanessa’s pupils dilate and her jaw drops. “Paige!”

I load the gun and point it at her head. “Say good-bye to your friend!”