by Alana Jade
Georgia
The heat of the water hitting my back brings instant relief to my body. The shivers start to dissipate, and my goosebumps vanish as the water streams over me. I wasn’t cold, not at all—it’s fear, not knowing what the hell is going on. It’s the same feeling I had when Alfred touched me.
What if it’s Alfred? a voice in my head says, but I shake it away.
No. They are in another country, I think.
It can’t be him? Can it?
Judging by Adam’s reaction, it’s serious, which has me in a tailspin. Many feelings have resurfaced, ones I’ve securely bottled up for a while now. I hate feeling vulnerable.
I must stand under the running water for twenty minutes before shutting off the faucet and stepping out, taking the towel from the rail on my way through.
This isn’t how I envisioned the night going.
I was sure I’d have my legs wrapped around that gorgeous man downstairs as he brings me to another orgasm. But unfortunately, right now, I’m worried the noise I heard outside the kitchen earlier and the breaking pot or whatever it was, was some sick ass filming us or getting their kicks by watching us.
I’m hoping Adam doesn’t think I am being too forward tonight when I ask him if I can sleep here. I don’t feel comfortable going back to the guesthouse. At least not until the police have checked it from top to bottom.
After drying myself and twisting my hair into some form of a bun on top of my head, I slip back into the robe I’ve borrowed from Adam. Maybe once the police leave, I’ll fetch some clean underwear.
Hanging the towel on the rail, I open the bathroom door and sit on Adam’s bed. I’m not sure what I’m meant to do while waiting, so I decide to flick on his television to pass some time.
I barely get into Netflix before Adam is tapping on the door with a hot chocolate in his hand. I flick the television back off. I’m not into it anyway. I was only going to have it on for some background noise.
“You know this is your room, you don’t have to knock.” I smirk.
“Wouldn’t want to catch you off guard or scare you.” He places the cup on the table beside the bed before placing a kiss on my forehead.
I desperately want to say something cheeky, but we’re both wound up, and it probably isn’t a good idea to try and rekindle what started earlier this evening.
“What’s going on? I ask.
“The police are searching the property. They’ve told us to stay inside.”
I feel like he wants to say more, but he’s stopping himself. “And?” I probe.
“They may want to speak to us shortly.”
“I’d better put some clothes on, then,” I blurt out. “I need to get clean underwear from the guesthouse.”
“Stay in that for now. I have a T-shirt and shorts you could put on. I’m happy for you to stay underwear free, though.” He smirks, placing his arms either side of me, pushing his weight on the bed.
I playfully tap his chest. Adam’s either undressing me with his eyes or trying to catch a peek of what’s under the robe. Either way, we can’t shift this chemistry we have, it’s very intense.
“Probably not a good idea to get this going again since the police are here,” I say, waving my fingers between us, even though I want it more than anything.
Adam nods and stands. “You’re right. But God, you look sexy wearing my robe.”
The way he says those few words sends shivers down my spine.
I playfully give him a peek at my breasts under the robe before pulling it tight across my chest. Biting the side of my lip, I await his reply.
He leans forward pushing my robe away before taking my nipple into his mouth, gently biting down on it, then taking as much of my breast into his mouth as he can before letting go of my nipple with a rather loud pop.
I can’t help but giggle.
“Oooh, you’ll keep. You tease.” Adam covers my breasts and takes a step back. While I love to tease him, now is not the right time. We’ll both enjoy it more when there isn’t so much happening around us.
He opens a drawer and pulls out a T-shirt and some shorts for me wear before placing them on the bed, then he tells me he’s heading back to the kitchen to wait for news.
A wave of nerves or dread, not sure which, washes over me as Adam steps out of the room, and the reality of what’s happening downstairs springs back to mind. I wish Adam would tell me everything, not just bits and pieces, but I know he’s trying to protect me.
Wanting more light in the room to calm myself down, I flick one of the switches on Adam’s side table, and all the lights go out. Damn! My heart races as I fumble around, trying to find another switch. When my fingers locate the switch, I flick it on again, the whole room lights up much to my relief. I decide not to mess with fate again and leave the buttons alone.
I pull on the clothes Adam left me, tightening the pants as much as I can. I would have assumed Adam’s pants would easily fit my decent-size butt, however, they are too big. I’m not an overly large girl, but I’m no skinny-minnie, either. I was once told I have an hourglass figure with curves in all the right places. I can get a little curvier when I don’t watch what I eat, so I am careful with my diet.
I’d like to think I’ve lost a little weight given I haven’t stepped foot on a set of scales since leaving my mother’s house, then not eating a lot for a week. Maybe it’s helped lose a few of those unnecessary pounds, but that could also be wishful thinking.
Walking down the stairs, I hold onto my pants, terrified if I let them go, they will fall to the floor, possibly giving Adam and the police an eyeful. I should’ve tried to find another pair but figured they’d all be the same size. I pray the tie holds them in place.
Making my way into the kitchen, I’m startled to see Adam sitting at the table with his security guy, John, plus a police officer. I wasn’t expecting them to be finished already.
“Georgia, please join us,” Adam calls across the kitchen as I see the three men fumbling with paperwork, tucking it away out of sight.
My stomach sinks at the sight of the police uniform.
It makes this situation all the more real.
I nod and purse my lips, then stand behind Adam’s chair, feeling safer being near him rather than sitting next to a stranger, especially in the outfit I’m wearing.
“We won’t keep you too long at this late hour, miss,” the police officer says.
“It’s fine. I’d rather you find out what’s happening,” I reply coldly.
“Just to get Georgia up to speed… it looks as though someone was on the property. But the police can find no sign of them now.”
“Did they attempt to break in?” I ask.
“We—” John starts before being cut off by Adam.
“We’re not sure yet, baby,” Adam answers, shooting John a look.
There’s definitely something unnerving about Adam’s look, but I shrug it off.
“Thank you both. If you get anywhere with the footage, please contact me. I’ll beef up my security both here and at work.”
“We’ll follow up on those leads, Mr. Cunningham,” the officer says, shaking his hand. He rises from his seat and walks to the rear door.
“Sir, I’ve organized for Mac, Sully, and Slay to be here for the remainder of the night. We’ll speak tomorrow about putting on a couple more guys.” John stands and joins the officer at the back door.
“Thank you. Good night.”
Adam stands and walks to the door, closing and latching the second lock after them.
“So, they have no idea who it was?” I ask, a little disappointed. I think I would have felt more relieved if they had found someone on the property. At least then, they’d take them away and throw away the key.
“Not yet. But we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“I need pop across to the guesthouse and grab some clothes.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Ah… yes, it is. I need clean underw
ear, Adam.” I laugh. But that’s when I notice he isn’t laughing back. I take a deep breath, knowing I won’t like the answer to my question. “What is it? Why don’t you want me to go over there?”
“Can’t you accept what I’m saying?”
“Not when I can tell you’re hiding something from me. Tell me! I’m a big girl, you know. If I can deal with a random guy coming to my car window one night when I was living out of my car asking for money, then I think I can handle this.”
“Fine. Someone was seen entering the guesthouse. They were in there for a very short time and then left.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Holy shit! Did they take anything?” I ask, through my fingers. My breath hitches as bile rises in my throat.
“Didn’t look like it.”
Tears well in my eyes. Adam walks to me and pulls me into for a hug. I’m unable to say anything more. But my imagination is running away with itself. I have everyone from Mom to Alfred to Rose and Blaze, and even Katie from grade school—who crazily accused me of taking her stupid pen—breaking in, wanting some kind of revenge.
How do I get into these situations? I think I’m a nice enough person. I have no idea how I make these enemies. I don’t do anything wrong. Trouble seems to find me, though. Maybe I’m cursed.
“See, I shouldn’t have told yo—”
“Can you take me over there, then?” I ask, cutting him off and crossing my arms across my chest. I’ve completely forgotten about the very loose shorts I’m wearing, but I also don’t think I would give a shit if they fell off my body right now anyway.
“Only if you’re sure. I can have security standing outside if it will make you feel safer,” he breathes into my hair.
“No, just you is enough.”
Adam walks me to the back door, opens it, ushering me outside. He holds my hand bringing it to his mouth and places the softest kiss on my knuckles.
I know he’ll protect me, but it doesn’t make me feel any better knowing someone was in the guesthouse. Why would anyone want to break in? I almost positive I pulled the door closed after I left. I’ve got nothing of value in there. Perhaps the guesthouse is an easy target compared to Adam’s main house which is a vault—reminds me of Fort Knox.
It’s only maybe thirty steps to the guesthouse from Adam’s back door, but with each step, my heart thumps faster and faster.
“Can I stay at yours tonight, Adam?” I ask, terrified of being alone.
“Of course. I was hoping you would anyway.”
I feel a little more relieved as we reach the door, although my eyes are darting from side to side. It’s a creepy feeling knowing someone has gotten in and touched who knows what. The more I huddle against Adam, the safer I feel.
Hopefully, it’s a once-off.
A random break-in of opportunity.
But somehow, something tells me it’s not.
Adam
Georgia’s grasp on my bicep is tightening as I reach for the doorknob. The police have left the guesthouse open since I wasn’t sure where her keys are. I’m sure they’re inside my house somewhere, anywhere between the kitchen and my bedroom.
The situation that’s arisen tonight is fucked. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out who would want to get at Georgia and why. John’s been asked to pull all employee files and sort through footage from earlier in the day. As much as I don’t want to question my employees—I’m very thorough when I hire them—my main priority is to keep Georgia safe, and they are the ones who have access around my property.
What Georgia won’t know is that I’ve asked the police to try and locate Georgia’s stepfather and mother. I have a sinking suspicion somehow, they may be involved, but I’m grasping at straws.
However, I also had to mention to them about the mail I’ve been receiving over the last six months. The letters have been coming a little more frequently in the past month. Someone, claiming to be my brother, has been asking for money—large amounts of it. To my knowledge, I don’t have any siblings, and each time I’ve visited Mom in recent times, she’s not been lucid enough to answer my questions on the subject.
But I know in my heart Dad would never have been unfaithful to my mother. The only reason it could be true is if this guy is quite a lot older than me—before Mom and Dad were together—and Dad didn’t know. But I can’t imagine that happening. I keep thinking my parents would have been honest enough with me to tell me if I had a sibling. We always had an open and truthful relationship from very early in my life.
I’ve given the information to John. Hopefully, he can use some contacts to see if any of this is legitimate or it’s someone after some quick cash.
Twisting the knob on the door, I push it open. The bang against the wall startles Georgia, my arm starting to lose feeling under her tight grip.
“Sorry,” I mumble, placing a kiss on her hair.
I try to pry her off my arm, so I can step inside to flick on the lights, but she won’t budge. This must be terrifying for her. I have to admit, my heart rate has spiked a little since we’ve gotten to the door.
Stepping inside with Georgia a step behind me, I reach for the switches, running my hand down the wall, hoping to knock each one into the on position. As the light floods the small hallway and living area, we take in the mess that’s been made, either by the intruder or the police.
It’s not terrible, just cushions and clothes thrown about, the coffee table is knocked over, and the new shelving unit Georgia bought last week has been knocked over—her new picture frames are face down on the carpet.
Georgia gasps, and I place my hand on hers in reassurance.
We’ll get this cleaned up.
I’ll have Lucy arrange for someone to come in and clean.
Georgia won’t have to do it.
“Do you want to stay here, and I’ll have a look through the rest of the place?” I ask Georgia.
She ferociously shakes her head, her damp, blonde hair coming loose from her twist on top of her head and swaying back and forth. “I’ll come with you.”
Letting go of my hand, Georgia tries to fix her hair before picking up some clothes along the way, placing them over the back on one of the kitchen chairs.
“We’ll get this cleaned up, you won’t have to worry,” I softly say to her.
“It won’t take me long. I don’t own that much stuff anyway.” She shrugs quietly. I can see how upset she is, and it breaks my heart.
“We’ll get a professional in here. It’ll be like no one’s ever been in here.”
“But I’ll always know someone has,” she sadly replies before she gasps and throws her hands over her mouth.
“What? What is it?” I ask, panicked, wondering what she’s seen.
“I left my purse. It has my money, my card plus my new cell,” she wails.
“Where did you leave it?”
“On the table.” She points to the table which has a newspaper pulled apart on top of it.
Georgia grabs the newspaper, throwing it on the floor, scrambling to find her belongings. As she pulls back the last piece, she sees the corner of her bag, swipes it up, and clutches it to her chest in relief.
“Thank God,” she cries, pulling the bag open, checking her belongings are still inside. “Isn’t that strange, everything’s here. So, they didn’t want my cell or the measly amount of money I had in my purse.”
“That’s weird,” I respond.
Georgia looks a little calmer now which is good. She doesn’t look as tense, but I’m sure it won’t last long. I’ve been informed of what’s ahead of us. “Let’s check out the rest of the place before I take you back to my house.”
“Do you know what’s even weirder?” she quietly asks, her breath hitching.
“What’s that?” I reply, giving her forehead a quick peck.
“I’ve never bought a newspaper. Where the hell has all this newspaper come from?”
Shaking my head, I have no reply for her this time, but I’ll get John
to look into it. Who knows what this person has brought into the guesthouse and left here.
I can tell she’s freaking out now. Why wouldn’t she be? Some lowlife has broken into her new home and messed with her stuff.
One piece of the newspaper I can see has an article circled about my company. After moving two or three around, they all have articles in them about my company and our large takeovers. There are even advertisements for jobs. My heart sinks. I’m starting to think this is aimed at me rather than a break-in of convenience. If it is, I’ll never forgive myself for having Georgia dragged into this. I bundle them all into a pile, so Georgia can’t see the rest of them.
I take her hand and lead her into the bedroom before I switch the light on. The police warned me what state her bedroom was left in, but it doesn’t stop the initial shock when you see it firsthand. I was sure the police would take the necessary pieces as evidence, though. So, to see what’s on her bed makes me extremely angry, but also very glad she’s behind me, so I see it first. Georgia pushes past me and walks into the room, stopping dead in her tracks when she witnesses what’s written above her bed.
Georgia’s white bedspread has been slashed, pieces of fluff from it all over the bed and floor. Newspaper and magazine pages are strewn across the room, and a hand-scrawled note has been taped to the wall with the words, ‘This should all be mine.’
Georgia falls to her knees, sobbing. “The note doesn’t make sense. This isn’t mine. It’s yours. Why would anyone do this to me?”
I drop to my knees next to her, pulling her to my chest. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Georgia hasn’t realized yet that this is all aimed at me—the letters sent to work, now this. I need to have John try to work out who’s behind this. We’ve never been given a name in the letters. Perhaps the person got sloppy and left a clue.
Unfortunately, Georgia’s stuck in the middle. I feel like such an asshole for bringing her into my mess.
An hour later, Georgia has calmed down and is tucked safely into my bed. It took everything I had not to join her, to help make her forget about the shit that’s going on. But she needs sleep. Instead, I’m back downstairs, sitting in my kitchen, trying to work out who the fuck could be responsible for something like this.