Page 109 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

I walked into my house, but stopped when I saw what he’d done.

It didn’t look like my house anymore.

My threadbare carpets had been replaced with plush, expensive cream carpets. The kind he had at Sunford Manor, that made your feet sink right into them, they were so luxurious. The walls were different too, now covered in the prettiest cream, patterned wallpaper. Subtle yet stylish. Exactly what I would’ve picked out myself. Stunned, I stepped further into the room, noticing the fireplace wasn’t my old electric fire with the scuffed, worn-out wooden surround. It was a marble hearth with an open fire, and the most beautiful, gilded mirror hung above it on the wall.

I glanced to the side to see my old sofa with the mismatched cushions wasn’t there either. In its place was a leather corner sofa with pretty, grey cushions. I reached out to touch the arm, and the softness of the leather made me sigh. This would be much comfier and cosier than my old scratchy one.

Then I saw the art on the wall, the simple pencil sketch of a ballerina, the one I’d found on Pinterest that looked so stunning I’d saved it to my mood board. There was a new side table too, next to the sofa, with the pewter abstract sculpture on it that I’d saved on the same mood board. Or was it silver, not pewter? I couldn’t tell. But there was one thing I was sure of.

“Did you go through my Pinterest boards to do this?”

My whole living room looked like the dream room I’d always wanted when I’d searched online for interior design ideas that I’d probably never be able to afford.

“I might’ve looked at your socials for some ideas. Was that okay? If you don’t like it, I still have your old stuff in storage. I can put it all back if you want me to.”

I was speechless.

“Alex, this is...” I was stunned. Overcome with a mix of emotions. “It’s absolutely stunning. It’s what I’d wish my home to look like if I could have it any way I wanted.”

“But you don’t have to wish anymore. Because it does look like this.”

I knew what he was doing. He’d taken my fear and the violation of that man breaking into my home and tried to turn it on its head. Create a new beginning for me. A clean slate.

I couldn’t deny, the panic and anger from earlier was slowing wilting and dying inside me, because of him.

I slipped my shoes off, not wanting to tread any dirt into the gorgeous cream carpets, and padded across the living room to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. That too had been given the Alex Kingston makeover. The cupboards, which used to be a little tatty with the vinyl peeling in places, were now solid wood. The worktops weren’t chipped and stained; they were expensive marble. And even the appliances, that had seen better days, had been swapped for high-end replacements.

“Alex, this must’ve cost a fortune.”

“It was nothing,” he replied, coming to stand behind me and wrap his arms around me. “I liked doing it. You deserve a little luxury, especially after everything.”

I turned in his arms to face him.

“Thank you. This is so thoughtful. It’s so much. Too much. You’ve turned my little house into the perfect home.”

He leaned closer to whisper in my ear, destroying the last remaining wasps that’d plagued me earlier. Replacing them with fluttery butterflies and sprinkles of gooseflesh that made my skin prickle and the hairs on my neck stand on end.

“I saw your Pinterest board for the bedroom, too, but I might’ve added a few of my own touches up there.”

The flutters in my stomach multiplied as I gazed up at him.

“And what touches would those be?”

“Well...” He pretended to look coy as he said, “I saw the padded headboard you liked, but I am partial to a metal bed frame. They’re very practical, you see.” His shy, coy act didn’t last long, and I saw the wicked glint in his eyes as his gaze darkened.

“Practical in what way?” I teased, wanting to coax that darkness out further.

He took my hand and pulled me towards the staircase.

“It gives me somewhere to secure my handcuffs. I do enjoy a little role play.”

The flutters in my stomach flew south, landing right in my pussy as it clenched at the thought of where this was going.

“I think I might need to see this bed frame... and try out your role play first-hand.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, leading me up the staircase.

Once we entered my bedroom, with its new, grey velvet opulence, he headed for the silver bedside table, slid the drawer open and took out a set of handcuffs.