Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Is looking up my home address and…
Yes. Yes, it is.
The question is… Is it worth it?
Do I care?
I’m not sure…
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Bookbabe
Okay. So do what I said. Have some fun. Suss him out.
What if he’s really BRATVA?
I know he is. He has to be.
Bookbabe
Oh c’mon, he can’t be really…
He has a Bratva tattoo and a Russian accent.
Bookbabe
You mean… they really exist? They’re real?
I laugh out loud.
Well yes, obviously.
Bookbabe
I thought they were made up for the book world!
I smile at that.
Some are, some aren’t
Bookbabe
I smirk.
Bookbabe
Okay, I gotta go to class. Ugggh, responsibility rearing its ugly head once more. Le sigh. Keep me posted!
She’s a teacher by day, one of the reasons why she smartly kept all her identifying information off her socials. Meanwhile, I might as well have hung a neon sign around my neck that says Stalk Me.
Freud would have a field day with this.
I go back to my messages.
I saw the pictures...
He responds immediately. My heart beats so fast that I’m a little dizzy.
Bratvabloodline
And my latest video, I see. I promise you, Ember. I’m not bluffing. I meant every word.
Yes
I pinch the bridge of my nose, unsure of how to respond because honestly? A part of me… wants this. There’s a reason why I spend so much time reading the books. There’s a reason I started this account. And sure, while I keep telling myself that this is fantasy, that I don’t really want this, it would be a lie to say there isn’t a part of me—a small, hidden, quiet part of me I don’t share with anyone else—that fantasizes about what’s directly in front of me.
I swallow hard and don’t respond. I quickly check my texts, and my blood runs cold.
Shawn has sent me twelve messages since last night.
Shawn
Hey, sis. I really want to see you. It’s been so long, and I’m only back in town for a while. How’s breakfast?
When I didn’t respond, the messages grew increasingly urgent and pushy.
Shawn
Why are you ignoring me? I’m waiting.
Shawn
Hello? Are you up? I know where you live, Ember. If you don’t respond to me, I’m coming by in person.
I don’t know how to play this. If I tell him off, he will retaliate and make my life a living hell.
But I can’t play nice, not with this asshole who made my childhood a living nightmare.
Shawn
Please. Things are different. I’m not the same person I was. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I want to see you.
I shake my head when a brilliant idea crosses my mind.
A crazy, brilliant, terrible idea.
Fury races through my veins as I type a message to my masked stalker. My hands are shaking.
Hey. Stalker boy.
Bratvabloodline
Ouch. I’m not a boy.
I smile to myself. He didn’t deny stalker.
Bratvabloodline
What is it?
My heart thunders in my chest so hard I’m a little dizzy.
You said you’re not bluffing.
Bratvabloodline
I’m not
You also said you’re not going to hurt me.
Bratvabloodline
I would never hurt you.
Talk is cheap, but… but…
If he were going to hurt me, he… he would have already.
Right?
No, Ember, you stupid bitch—my inner voice warns me before I shut that shit down and continue my conversation.
Can we meet for coffee?
Some place public, out in the open, where he can’t do anything to me.
My pulse races as the dots on the other side of the phone appear then disappear, come back again, then disappear.
I wait and wait, but nothing.
Seriously? I mention coffee and get ghosted by my online stalker?
I can’t ask him to do this. I can’t, but—
Bratvabloodline
I thought you’d never ask. Look out your window, beautiful. Meet me on the rooftop.
Oh god.
I freeze, my pulse thundering in my ears. My hand trembles as I pull the curtain aside—and there he is, leaning casually against a lamppost, two coffees in hand… all masked up, before he turns and heads toward my building.
Chapter 9
EMBER
The cold rooftop air bites at my skin, but it’s not what sends a shiver rippling down my spine.
He’s here.
Again.
So the guy is local. On the one hand, that should terrify me.
On the other…
I’m not gonna lie. I feel like I’m living in the pages of a romance book.
Towering over me, his presence is oppressive, magnetic. I tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. The black mask covering his face doesn’t give much away, but his body radiates tension. Every inch of him screams predator.
And mother of god, I’m here for it.
“Your posts,” he whispers in that accent that makes my body sing, begging for more, like verbal foreplay. I swallow hard. “All these fantasies. You have no idea how close you are to living them.”
I need to push a little. “What makes you think I want to live them out with you?”
Do I?
Feels a bit strange addressing someone wearing a mask, but the anonymity, the mystery… my heart’s beating a million times a minute.
I remind myself that the books I’ve read… they’re… fantasy.