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Instead, I went to her father. Her fucking father. I was going to do this right. Ask for her hand, not that it mattered, but I felt like it would matter to her.
But, that fucker Niko.
He told me I was wasting my time, that his daughter would never look twice at a guy like me. I should have told him I knew what she sounded like when she came, just to rub it in his face, until he told me she’s fucking engaged.
That little tidbit was what sent me over the edge. I punched his door so hard one of the hinges popped, and he banned me from his poker games. Like I give a flying fuck about poker. All I care about is her. All I need is her.
All I want is her.
It’s a miracle I made it back home before I started ripping into everything I saw. Punching holes in walls. Tearing cupboard doors off and tossing furniture. I threw the television set through the living room window.
Engaged? Fucking engaged?
She’s not marrying anyone but me.
All I thought about was how to get to her, willing or not, and take her away. I’ve been crazed since and that was a week ago, but I haven’t had time to do much cleaning up.
The TV is gone off the front lawn, the window is boarded, but otherwise my house still looks like the bulls of Pamplona ran through. Because once I’d got it out of my system, my obsessive thoughts took over and refused to accept any of that shit.
Engaged? Just an obstacle. No biggie.
I made some calls. Some of those politicians and lawmen who’d tiptoed over the line into my world. They owed me, and they came through.
Which is how I ended up here. Sitting in the dark in her living room.
Waiting.
The headlights from her car pierce the darkness. Then, there’s the soft closing of her car door. The slight crunch of her steps are next on the stone path to her front door. Then, the metallic sound of her key in the lock…
She’s here.
Anna.
Fuck, her scent assaults my senses as she steps into the dark. Roses and cream. Even in silhouette I salivate at the sight of her curves, the way her round ass is tight and teasing, encased in these little painted on athletic shorts with a red stripe on the side and I imagine the front seem splitting her into the cutest little camel toe.
I grip the arms of the chair, ready to fucking pounce on her when she reaches toward the wall, humming something I can’t quite place and flicks the switch and stands there facing me with horror on her face. “Jesus!” She topples back into the doorway, . “Cyrus? Peter, Paul and Mary, what the hell are you doing here? And how the hell did you get in?”
“Hi, baby,” I greet her as I stand, stepping her way. She counters with a backstep, fear widening her eyes, pupils dilated. “I would never hurt you.”
Her fear makes me angry. Angry at myself for causing it and preemptively angry at anyone in the future that might scare her.
“I said, how did you get in here?” Her eyes leave me for a moment, darting around the room looking for the source of my forced entry.
She back steps again. Again, until she’s back at the front door, her eyes on me but her hand blindly searches for the door handle, but I don’t believe this frightened little girl act. She knows me. She knows I wouldn’t let any harm come to a single hair on her fucking head. She knows I’d put myself between her and a bullet without a second thought.
“Wasn’t hard. I know people who know how to get things done. Things I need done,” I tell her.
“You know people? What people do you know? I used my key so the door was locked, the alarm didn’t go off.” She continues to scan the interior of the house looking for a hole in the wall as if I was the fucking Kool-Aid man barreling in here. “How?”
I sigh but her eyes lock to mine and my pulse jumps. “Two days after I came to your office, this place had some plumbing work done.”
“No, it didn’t. There was no plumbing problem.”
“Yes, baby. The house manager let them in when you and your parents were out. Thirty minutes to install an override for the alarm system and cut a duplicate key for your door.”
I scrub my hands over my face deciding to leave out the cameras and microphones I had them install. Especially the one in her bedroom that I’ve used to beat off about a thousand times, but in the end, all the video and sound only made me angry because it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t her.
