by Alex Grayson
Yes, I provide protection against people like me. I may protect others against the thieves that hack computers for a living, but that doesn’t keep me from doing it myself. Call me a hypocrite and see if I care. Knowing how people break into computers and learning it at a young age makes me good at what I do. I don’t use the information I uncover for personal gain, or rather, I don’t anymore. I use it to better my business, except in the case of Poppy. I’ll use every damn trick I know to get what I want from her.
I was eight years old when I hacked into my first computer, my school’s computer. My teacher gave me a C in math, and I didn’t like it. I was already good at computers, and after hours of playing around, I broke into their system and changed my C to an A. No one was none the wiser. From there, my curiosity of internet security systems grew, and so did my hacking skills. Before I started Silver Technologies, I was breaking into some of the tightest security systems in the world, and I was never even close to being caught. After years of using others to gain what I wanted, I decided to work from the other side and started designing my own internet security software. I had money from my ill-gotten gains and Silver Technologies was created. Now, after fifteen years, we’re at the top of the ladder in internet security.
I clear my head of my current thoughts and look back to Eric, who’s still standing in my doorway.
“Email me the updated designs and projection reports. Be here in an hour.”
He nods and closes the door behind him, and my thoughts immediately drift back to Poppy. When she told me earlier that she didn’t sleep well the night before, I wanted to ask for more details, but I held back. I’ve never gotten personal with Poppy because I don’t need to. I damn near know everything about her already. To do so now would seem strange. While she sat across from my desk, writing down the tasks I gave her, my eyes kept flickering back to her. She was oblivious to my constant stares, her nose buried in the notepad on her lap. It’s hard to concentrate when she’s around, but in order to keep up the ruse, I force myself, when all I want to do is lay her out on my desk and feast away at her body.
I can tell I make her nervous, something I find highly arousing. She tries to hide it, but I know better. The way her breath hitches a fraction when she’s around me, or how her nipples peek through her top at me when I look at her. She bites her lip when she’s nervous and rubs her pointer finger and thumb together. Sometimes, I’ll look at her and catch her watching me. Her face turns a lovely shade of pink, and seeing that pink blush turns my dick to stone every time. I want to see her entire body flush like that.
My cell phone chirps on my desk, and I glance down at it. Mom appears on the screen. I grab the slim device, slide my finger across the screen to accept and put it to my ear.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Asher, honey, how are you?”
I close the program I was using when Poppy knocked to let me know she was leaving and lean back in my chair with both elbows resting on the arms. If I know my mom, I may be here for a while.
“I’m good. Nothing new. How are you and Dad?”
“Your dad and I are fine. I’m putting together a dinner in a few weeks, and I was hoping you could attend. Nothing big, just a few friends.”
I rub my fingers along my temple, feeling a headache coming on. I know what she’s trying to do. She’s been doing it for years now, and each and every time she’s failed.
“Is this another attempt at setting me up?” I ask. I can’t help the irritation in my voice. I love my mom, and I know she means well, but her attempts at marrying me off to some random woman she knows through friends is getting quite tiresome.
“Asher. Please, honey. I know you’ll like this girl. I’ve had lunch with her a few times and she’s very intelligent and sweet. Can you—”
I cut her off before she can start in on why this girl and I would be perfect for each other. I’ve heard it all a hundred times and do not need to hear it again.
“Mom, no.” My tone brooks no argument. Normally, I wouldn’t dare speak to her with such a tone, but this shit has got to stop. You’d think she’d get a clue after the first fifty failed attempts.
“Me and your dad aren’t getting any younger here, Asher. I want grandkids.”
“You’ve got grandkids,” I remind her.
“I do, and I love them dearly, but I want grandkids from all my kids before I go.”
I sigh as I lean up, bringing my elbows down on my desk. Glancing down, I see the monthly bill from Everly’s Flower Shop. I have a standing tab with them that I pay monthly. When Poppy didn’t show at her normal time for work this morning, anxiety started snaking its way into my system. She’s never late—she’s normally early. I’m always the first person here in the mornings and she shows up about forty-five minutes after me. Those times are the hardest because we’re here alone, and she knows I’m here with her. But when she was late this morning, I about tore my office apart. I didn’t realize how much I needed to see her until she wasn’t there to be seen.
I pulled the feed up on my computer and saw her scrambling around her house in a hurry. That alone was what kept me sane, knowing she was okay, just appearing to be running late. My eyes stayed locked on the screen until she finally left the house. I closed the program, immediately pulled up the tracking app I have on my phone for the tracking device I have on her car and watched as the little dot moved across the screen, showing she was on her way here. It was only when she pulled into the garage that the unease started to settle. I like order and I like control. For Poppy’s schedule to change and me not made aware of it beforehand is something I obviously don’t handle well.
“Asher, honey, are you still there?” My mom’s voice pulls me back to the present.
“I’m here. Email me the details and I’ll be there, but you need to either tell this girl not to come or let her know I’m not interested. Enjoy the grandkids you’ve got. I’ll give you some when I find the right person, and not someone you find for me.”
“I just want to see you happy, honey. Your sister’s found hers and so has your brother. The way you’re going, you’ll never get yours.”
“I get it, Mom, I really do, and I love you for wanting that for me, but you’ve got to stop this. I’m happy in my life right now. If and when I find someone, it will be on my terms. It’s me that has to live with that person. Don’t you think I have the right to pick her?” I don’t give her time to answer before I say, “I have to go. Eric should be in any minute to go over a few things. I’ll see you next week.”
“Wait,” she says hurriedly, before I get a chance to hang up. “There’s another reason I called.”
I wait for her to continue. I have a feeling I know what she’s going to ask.
“How is…everything else?” Concern and worry lace her voice.
I blow out a breath and give her what she needs to hear. Fortunately, what I tell her is the truth.
“It’s good and is as it should be. You know I’d let you know if it were different. The results continue to show improvement.”
She releases a sigh of relief over the phone. It’s been very stressful the last few months, and I know it’s taken its toll on my family, especially my parents. I’m lucky to have such loving parents and a brother and sister that would do anything for me, as I would them.
“That’s good. Really good, Asher.” I hear the slight hiccup in her voice, and I wish I was there to pull her into my arms. My family and I have always been close. I live a few hours from them and don’t get to see them as often as I’d like, but I always try to make sure I make it out to them at least twice a month. However, there were several months I wasn’t able to. Instead, they came to me.
“Love you, Mom. Now, I really need to go.”
“Okay, honey. Love you, too. I’ll email you the details about the dinner.”
We hang up and I drop my phone on the desk. Enough time has passed for Poppy to have made it home. I bring up the video feed on my computer and see her sitti
ng down with a container of Chinese and a glass of wine. The angle of the camera shows her from the side. She slips off her heels and curls her feet up onto the couch. The way she’s sitting has her tight skirt pushed up her legs, showing off more of her thighs. My body gives a jolt when I see a peek of her garter belt. Her hair is still in the neat updo she had earlier. I watch as she flips on the TV and settles on something to watch. From this angle, I can’t see what it is, but I bet its Lost. It’s her favorite. I know this from the cable company records I hacked into.
I watch her sitting on the couch, eating her food until I hear a knock on my door once again. Feeling irritated, I close the program, bring up the email Eric sent over and bid him entrance, already wishing this meeting was over so I can get in my car, drive over to Poppy’s, and watch through her window as she gets ready for bed.
It doesn’t take me long to get to Poppy’s house. Of course, that may be because I broke a few speeding laws along the way. The need to see her was strong, especially after my plans to be here earlier were thwarted by the meeting with Eric. By the time we were done, I swear my hands were shaking. It’s ridiculous to get that way over seeing someone that won’t even know I’m there, but I learned a long time ago, anything to do with Poppy is out of the norm. My strides to the fence are determined and impatient.
Now I’m standing in front of her window when suddenly, her head turns to face it. I step to the side with my back to the wall of the house. Seconds later, I see her shadow appear as she looks out the window. I’m not worried about her seeing me. I’m in the shadow and the angle isn’t right.
This is the first time she’s sensed me watching her, and I wonder what tipped her off. Doesn’t matter. She won’t see me unless I want her to. Even though I’m not ready to give this game up, the thrill of nearly getting caught has my dick growing in my slacks.
Poppy moves away from the window and I wait several more seconds before I peek around the frame, just as she closes the door to her bathroom.
Motherfucker!
She’s undressing in the damn bathroom, probably spooked by her sixth sense of me at her window. And once again, my normal has been fucked with. She usually undresses partially in the bedroom before taking a shower. I’m used to getting small glimpses of her and she just deprived me of that.
My eyes fall on the vase of flowers on her nightstand. A feeling of possessiveness runs through me at seeing them. I like knowing she’s sleeping close to something I gave her.
It takes a good forty-five minutes for Poppy to reappear and make her way to her bed. She unknowingly exposes her naked body to me and satisfies my need to see her before crawling beneath the covers. I decide not to enter her house tonight. Having her tell me she didn’t sleep well last night and her suspicions of someone watching her tonight make me leery.
Tomorrow’s Friday, and then it’s the weekend. For normal people, Friday is their favorite day of the week because it’s the start of the weekend. For me, it’s my least favorite. It means I have two full days of no Poppy, except for watching through her window and on my computer, or my phone.
I need to spice things up, move things along, make Poppy aware of me, and that starts tomorrow. I’ve given myself three weeks before I make my move and let her know what I want. The trip to Texas isn’t just for a business meeting; I only need to be there for a day or two. The rest is for me to tell Poppy everything. I picked Texas because I know it’s a place she’s always wanted to visit. I have three weeks to make her realize she can’t live without me, to make her fall for me so deeply that there’s no way she can dig herself out. Because once I’ve unmasked all my secrets and Poppy knows the extent of my obsession with her, there will be no going back. I refuse for the outcome to be anything but having Poppy in my arms, in my home, my bed, with my ring on her finger and my babies in her belly.
Chapter Four
Poppy
I wake to a beautifully sweet smell. When I open my eyes, they are immediately filled with a soft light lavender. A smile touches my lips when I realize they are my roses from yesterday. I grab my phone off the nightstand just as my alarm goes off. I’m not normally a morning person, preferring to sleep in, but for some reason, waking up and seeing the roses has put me in a really good mood. It’s a stupid move on my part. Like I told Liv yesterday, there’s no telling who this guy is or what’s he’s capable of.
I reach over, turn my lamp on, flip the covers back, and climb out of bed. It’s still dark outside, but through my window the sky is starting to turn a pretty pink, indicating the rising of the sun. Grabbing my robe, I pull it up my arms and belt the waist as I make my way to the bathroom. From there, I get ready for my day. I set my coffee machine at night so it kicks on and is ready for me in the mornings. I walk to the kitchen on bare feet and am met with the delicious scent of morning magic.
After making a cup and downing half of it, I go back to my bedroom. Sitting on the side of the bed, I slip one thigh-high up my leg and begin working on the second one when my phone dings with an incoming text. I grab it from my nightstand, wondering who would be texting me this early in the morning.
I frown as I glance at the screen. It’s a random number that’s not programmed into my phone. Curiously, I swipe my finger across the screen to open the message.
Unknown: Have you enjoyed the flowers I’ve sent you?
I freeze, except for my eyes, which pop open wide in shock. My breath gets caught in my throat when I realize this must be my mystery flower guy.
Holy hell! It’s him!
Why in the world is he texting me? After all this time, why contact me now? And what in the hell do I say to him? It’s become a routine. I’ve gotten used to getting the roses and not knowing who they are from. Question after question runs through my mind. Who is he? Why send me flowers? Why not introduce himself? Where did he first see me? How did he find out where I worked? And how in the hell did he get my number?
That’s my number one question, so I ask him.
Me: How did you get my number?
It only takes seconds for me to receive a reply, and I’m not sure how to take it.
Unknown: I have my ways. You didn’t answer my question.
He has his ways? What is that supposed to mean? My chest tightens with fear at his answer. I push back the fear and ask another question I’m dying to know.
Me: They’re beautiful, thank you. Who are you?
Unknown: You’ll find out soon enough.
Umm… say what? Another question avoided. My eyes narrow in suspicion.
Me: I’m not sure I like that answer. I have no idea who you are. What if I don’t want to know you once I find out?
I notice the time on my phone and pull the second thigh-high up my leg, keeping my eyes on the screen the entire time. This is really weird, him having my number. I’m sure it’s not too hard to get the information, but it’s the point that he went through the trouble to get it. I hate being left in the dark like this.
My phone dings again, and I quickly grab it.
Unknown: You’ll want to know me. Trust me.
Trust him? That’s laughable. How can he think I’ll trust him when I have no idea who he is?
Me: It’s hard to trust someone I don’t know.
I slip my feet in my heels as I wait for him to reply. It’s doesn’t take long.
Unknown: You’ll learn.
Unsure of how to respond to that, I walk back to the kitchen to get a travel mug of coffee ready. He seems so confident, and cocky. Maybe a little too much, since it’s coming from a total stranger. How can he be so sure?
I type out my original question again.
Me: Who are you?
Unknown: Soon…
I grip my phone in frustration. Now that he’s contacted me, the need to know who sends me roses every week is overwhelming. It’s no longer a curiosity—I need to know. I should be more afraid, but I’m not, and that gives me pause. Why am I not more fearful? He’s obviously hiding something, right? B
ut what?
He sends another text before I get a chance to reply.
Unknown: Have a good day at work, Beautiful.
What? That’s it? He has flowers delivered to me every week for eight months, messages me out of the blue with cryptic messages, then wishes me a good day at work? Pissed off vibes has my gut clenching. How dare he contact me and leave me hanging.
Me: That’s it? That’s all I get out of you?
I flip the off switch on the coffee pot, grab my now full travel mug, my purse, and with phone still in hand, I leave my house, locking it up behind me.
I’m buckling my seatbelt when he replies.
Unknown: For now, yes.
Oh no, that doesn’t work for me. He needs to give me something. He can’t just expect me to accept his non-answers.
Me: How do you know me? How do you know where I work?
Unknown: I know a lot of things about you, Poppy.
Me: You’re not helping your case of me wanting to know you. It’s freaking me out that you know stuff about me, personal stuff, when I don’t even know your name. That’s not normal. It’s pretty stalkerish, don’t you think?
I notice the time on my phone again and see I have a few minutes before I need to leave, so I decide to wait for his reply.
Unknown: Just call me Mr. A for now. Have a safe trip to work.
I drop the phone in my lap, not liking this at all, but also begrudgingly admitting that he has me even more intrigued. I should be committed. I must be losing my mind to be captivated by this person. I don’t know him from Adam’s house cat, but I can’t help but be curious. I’m asking for trouble; I know I am. It’s stupid and reckless of me. The flowers are such a sweet gesture, and I want to know why he does it. Fear and curiosity worm their way into my belly, but I’m not sure which is more predominant.