Because You're Mine

by Marin Montgomery

  He accepted graciously and changed the topic to one that was always of interest to me—money, fortune, and the pursuit of it. I let the matter at hand go.

  Until I got a visitor a month later—in our office.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Levin

  I call Janine back and let her know I’m safe. She’s near hysterical but says she’ll communicate to Liz that I’m trying to put Alec behind bars.

  Unless he gets to me first.

  Amada is at work today, and we call Maddy together from her phone.

  On my break, I use Amada’s phone to look up Mark Manassas, the married man who Eric fell in love with.

  He has an office about five minutes from where I am staying.

  Today’s about as good a day as any. I call his office and speak to his assistant. He owns a construction leasing equipment business. It started with his father-in-law, and he branched out on his own according to a Phoenix newspaper article featuring him.

  His assistant, Molly, says he is unavailable today, but she can arrange a meeting tomorrow.

  The only question—what am I seeing him about?

  I tell Molly that I work for a large manufacturing company, and we are interested in the potential to explore leasing construction equipment for our new location. The lie slips off my tongue easily.

  Thanks, Dad, for instilling the value of lying about your half-empty bottles and the fact your speech is slurred, but you haven’t touched a drink for days.

  The day drags on, my mind wandering off to Alec and his whereabouts and then to Jake. I hope mum is the word, and there aren’t any repercussions on me staying in his room.

  I still have a sense of nervousness about heading back to my place.

  Since I am being followed, the idea of sleeping there seems ridiculous.

  Should I get a hotel room? Funds need to be saved. Cot in the lounge?

  Jake’s room?

  There’s something about Jake, that even with all the turmoil in my life, I still am drawn to him and his magnetic personality.

  I head home after picking up some dinner to go.

  My eyes keep casting their glances in the rearview mirror. No one is following me that I know of—no silver Cadillac, no salt-and-pepper-haired man.

  I decide not to park in the garage this time in case someone comes looking and puts two and two together.

  I find an empty parking spot and make my way to my condo walking in nervous anticipation, my steps hurried, and my hand on the pepper spray in my purse.

  The door is locked. I check the handle to make sure.

  However, when I open the door, a sense of dread overcomes me.

  It’s times like these I wish I knew how to use a gun. Alec never wanted me to learn. He said he would protect me.

  Now, I know why.

  I walk through the rooms, pepper spray in my hand, ready to aim and spray.

  The bathroom, though it seems untouched, smells like my perfume.

  Obnoxious. Overkill. It’s been sprayed.

  Nothing’s out of place but the lingering smell of my Chanel.

  Maybe I’m imagining it. It has been a few days since I have spent time here getting dressed and ready in this bathroom.

  I shake my head. Staying here seems like a bad idea. I won’t sleep. I don’t feel safe.

  I start to grab some of my items and throw them in a duffle bag when I hear a knock.

  I freeze.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Alec

  I drive to Levin’s to wait for her to come home from work. The thought of watching her at the resort is enticing, but I’m not ready to be spotted. Yet.

  Plus, workplaces can create ugly scenes, and I didn’t want to draw attention to us. That’s exactly what happened when Mark Manassa’s wife showed up at my office. She was flustered and upset—a bad combination. She didn’t bother knocking on my office door, just flung her arms wildly and screamed Eric’s name.

  At first, I thought she must be a jilted lover from Eric’s past, but alas, she was Mark’s wife. Her wedding ring threw daggers of light on every surface in my office as she struggled to regain composure. She wasn’t beautiful now, what with all the lip injections and plastic surgery, but I could see she’d been a real beauty in the past.

  I felt like she had punched me in the stomach as she explained to me that Eric was sleeping with her husband. My mind had trouble comprehending that he was sleeping with not only a client but this woman's husband. Her father had been the reason we’d been so successful. He had bought and developed multiple lots from us and referred clients with multi-million-dollar needs.

  If her father found out about Eric and Mark, we’d be run out of this city, his connections would dry up, and our business ruined. I couldn’t let that happen. So I made a deal with her, a deal that saved our business. Eric, not so much.

  I must’ve fallen asleep, because next thing I know, the sun has set, and the moon is shining through the front windshield casting a spotlight on the complex. I wake up when I hear the thud of another vehicle going over one of those obnoxious yellow speed bumps.

  I glance at my watch. It’s after 8:00 p.m.

  Shit, what did I miss?

  A black Mercedes sedan is the cause of the noise and drives around the corner.

  I decide to get out pulling a cap over my head. Her condo is on the second floor, but there are plenty of benches I can sit on. People are still out walking their dogs and meandering through the complex.

  A man walks around the corner just as I take a seat. He is dressed in a suit and tie. There is no denying his good looks. He has light brown hair and is tall—over six feet. He looks confused.

  He stops near me. Close enough I can smell his aftershave and cologne.

  “Hi.” He pauses and waits for me to glance up from my phone.

  “Hi.” My tone is short.

  “I’m looking for someone.” He glances at his watch. “Do you by any chance know where #236 is? Been a while since I’ve been to a condo complex.” His eyes are apologetic.

  I have every idea where #236 is. It’s where my fiancée is supposed to be situated.

  So this is him. He’s tall, I’ll give him that. That’s about all he’s got going for him. Anyone can wear a custom suit and call it good. He seems like a pussy, his lips too feminine and his skin too perfect like he’s got an IG filter on it. Probably lotions his hands and jerks off alone most of the time.

  Arizona is an open-carry state, and at this moment, I wish I had a pistol.

  “I’m just visiting my sister.” I throw my arms in the air, chuckling. “Who can find anything in this maze, am I right?”

  He nods, but he’s already walking away. I watch him go up the stairs, then disappear from sight.

  I pop my knuckles. My left ear starts ringing.

  The anger rises as I start to stand and head in that direction.

  But something in me snaps.

  I can’t.

  My knees are weak and give way. I slam back down onto the hard, concrete bench.

  A moment later, I notice him heading back down the stairs confirming she is not at home.

  The relationship between them is unclear.

  “Sir?” I stop him as he starts to pass me.

  “I think I might know who you’re looking for.” I tap my palm to my forehead. “There’s a girl named Levin. Think she lives where you were, I’m just not good with remembering condo numbers.”

  At the mention of her name, he nods his head, eyes light up, his expression a grin.

  “My sis knows her from the pool here.”

  I continue, “Such a unique name.”

  The man agrees.

  “Can I give her a message for ya if I see her?” I force a fake smile. “She should be back soon. Or, could you text her?”

  “I don’t have her number.” The man reaches in his pocket. “Can you just give her this?”

  This is too easy, I think to myself.

  Bulls-ey
e.

  His business card with all the necessary info—name and number.

  “Perfect,” I say. “Think she just went to the gym.”

  “Oh, if it’s here…” his voice trails off, “… I can just stop by there.”

  “It’s not.” I stand up. “It’s a drive.”

  Getting this man’s business card should be a fairy tale. Except it isn’t. It’s a fucking nightmare.

  Who’s this man to Levin?

  The anger starts to build, and I ball my hands into fists bending the card in my palm. His card says Jake Hunter, CEO, and a solar energy logo for a company named SolarBright.

  Ahh, this explains it all. Put a fancy title behind his name and, of course, women fall over him. I bet it’s a company of one.

  I’m trying to follow the therapist’s advice, the only good piece of advice she gave—inhaling and exhaling deeply.

  It doesn’t work.

  I haven’t found any communication between her and other guys in her phone or email. I thought for sure I’d find something—some sign she was cheating or some reason for her to just leave me sick. But there was nothing. She didn’t send that many emails, most in her inbox were spam or sales and coupons.

  He shouldn’t be here. She certainly isn’t installing solar energy in this fucking place. I pull on my ear, tilting my head, commanding the roaring noise to stop.

  I wait for him to leave, his black Benz exiting the gate. Lifting my phone, I snap a picture of his license plate just in case.

  My pulse isn’t slowing, and I decide to use the gym and get myself a release while I wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  I pace around the complex walking circles around the area keeping my head down. No sign of her. The condo remains dark—no lights convey that she’s home.

  Levin doesn’t come home tonight.

  I’m sick to my stomach, the bile rising in my throat.

  The nervous energy and unknown whereabouts of the one and only woman I want is making me sick.

  What if I can’t get access to the money? I always have a Plan B, but in this instance, I’m out of options, maxed out on lines of credit.

  The house. I can sell the house, except it’s mortgaged to the hilt. I might have enough proceeds to start over. Maybe in a foreign country?

  I scroll through my phone examining old pictures. How happy we looked. Mega-watt smiles on both of our faces.

  “Fuck,” I mutter to myself. I pull out my wallet scrutinizing my credit cards and considering the amounts on each. A photo booth picture of us is tucked inside the money holder. They’re black and white photos, each of us making funny faces into the camera.

  Our happiness irks me now that she’s abandoned me.

  I rip it up into a million pieces, the diminutive shreds symbolic of how I feel at this moment. They float to the ground like puzzle pieces that can never be fit together again. She made me feel alive, and now she’s somewhere testing my patience.

  When I slide the wallet back into my pocket, I feel a smooth, rounded edge. My pocketknife. Involuntarily, I smirk.

  There’s nothing more I’m craving than holding her down and running the smooth metal over her skin, the cold blade making marks that’re visible to the world.

  I want to cut her up, rip her into pieces, scar her and show off her flaws, the same way she’s marked me for life.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Levin

  I look through the peephole.

  It’s Jake Hunter, Villa 19. Instantly, I kneel down crawling back into the kitchen, away from any wandering eyes.

  As much as I want to open the door, I can’t.

  If it’s a work problem, it can wait until tomorrow. It’s probably about an order or something he needs from the store.

  I have a one-track mind right now, and it’s getting out of here tonight. And getting out safely.

  He knocks one more time. It’s too risky for me to look out the window, so I sit in the dark and wait. I hear a thud as his footsteps retreat back down the steps.

  I grab some of my items, and since my phone isn’t a smart one, I offer cash to a neighbor I pass on my way out to send an Uber for me. She looks at me strangely, but I explain I left my phone at work and was dropped off here.

  Leaving the Sonata here seems like a good idea. If anyone comes, they’ll think the car belongs to another condo.

  I think about them knowing where I’m headed, but decide to give them a restaurant name and not a hotel. I can walk a few feet.

  Switching it up is the way to go. I’ll grab the car in the morning.

  I stay inside until my Dodge Caravan arrives, and the mom van takes me to my next destination, a hotel a couple of minutes away.

  The top floor provides me views and though sleeping in Jake’s room would have been welcome, if only for the safety aspect, this also works.

  The persistent shaking in my arms subsides, and I start to calm down. The deadbolt is locked, and I know if anything, I need to catch up on some zzzzs. This murky feeling will cause me to let my guard down, make erroneous mistakes. I have to stay ahead of Alec.

  I take a Xanax and fall asleep. The pepper spray is nestled beside me in bed, the curtains drawn.

  Tomorrow I will have the evidence I need.

  Alec will be arrested.

  I can go home. Wherever that is.

  In the morning, I wake feeling energized for the first time in a while. The cobwebs have cleared, and I feel a renewed sense of purpose.

  Today I will meet Mark Manassas after work. I want to make good on my promise to the memories of Heidi and Eric and their families.

  When I arrive at work, I have a message that Villa 19 needs my assistance.

  I knock on Jake’s door, and he answers promptly.

  “Hey,” he says holding a cup of coffee in his hand. “Come in.”

  I enter almost feeling like a stranger. I hate the fact I feel vulnerable, that I brought a perfect stranger who could ruin my position at the resort into this.

  Sleeping with just a door separating us the night before last was intimate, yet it’s a separation of more than just a door between us. I’m on the lam, and I will never forgive myself if something happens to Jake because of my affiliation with Alec.

  No one else needs to get hurt at the hands of my ex-fiancé.

  He points to the sofa. “Please sit.” He heads to the coffee pot and turns to me. “You want some?”

  “Sure.” I hesitate.

  I stare at the walls pretending the abstract painting requires my attention.

  He seems awfully formal today. Is he upset about the other night? The fact I pretended not to be at home? He decided I shouldn’t handle his service? I brought this all on myself. I sigh.

  He tilts his head watching me.

  I decide to move to a more neutral topic, though not the best reminder of one of our first interactions.

  “How’s your head?” I pull my gaze from the painting, a glance at his face confirms the swelling’s gone down.

  That’s a plus at least.

  “Good.” He gives me a tight smile. “A couple more days, and it’ll be gone.”

  I nod, trying to decide if a joke is welcome. I open my mouth and close it.

  “I have a confession.” Jake is contrite. “I went to your place last night. To check on you.”

  Playing dumb is useful in this case. I act floored.

  “I wasn’t there,” I offer.

  “I know. A man told me you were at the gym.” He raises his eyebrows. “Did he give you my card?”

  “Card, what card? And what man? A neighbor?”

  “A man said you were friends with his sis.”

  The color drains from my face.

  “He was sitting outside your place,” he adds.

  Fear in my eyes is now palpable to Jake. I start to shake. My words are unclear, and I stammer to get them out. “What man?”

  “Oh my God, Levin, I’m sorry.” Jake runs his
hands through his hair in frustration.

  “What card did you give? Like a business card?” I can’t see straight. The room starts to blur. I lean down, head in my hands, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball.

  Jake instantly moves to my side and touches my arm.

  “Levin, what’s going on?” Jake asks. “Yeah, it was my business card. Just name and phone.”

  “He’s going to find me,” I whisper. “He’s going to find you.”

  “Who?”

  I don’t answer.

  “I want to help you, but you have to tell me what’s going on.” Jake reaches down for my chin and moves my head up gently. “We can figure this out. If someone’s bothering you, you have to stop running.”

  “Yes,” I breathe. “But that’s the problem. He likes to chase.”

  “Then we have to catch him at his own game.” Jake’s voice is level. “Levin, you need to tell me everything so that I can help you. It’s obvious you’re in danger. Talk to me.”

  Jake rises and marches to the desk grabbing the receiver. He dials ‘0’ and waits a second.

  “Hi, this is Jake Hunter, Villa 19. My secretary called out today. Is that okay if Levin assists me?” He listens and then puts the phone down.

  While he is doing this, he starts texting on his cell.

  “I’m canceling my morning appointment.” He puts his hand over the receiver when he says this. “No one likes breakfast anyway.”

  He disappears for a minute and comes back. He has a glass of water and a blanket in hand. He wraps the blanket around my shoulders and hands me the drink. Even though the room isn’t frigid, my body temperature says otherwise. I can’t stop shaking.

  Jake sits down on the footrest and moves it closer to me, eye level so he can stare at me as I speak. The gold flecks of his irises are burning like a lava lamp that has been shaken and is now amalgamated.