NOAH
I watched Charlotte turn and walk down the hall toward my office, and I had to resist the urge to call her back to me. The thought of letting her go to a meeting where that pervert Josh was going to be filled me with rage. I was overcome with the need to protect her, to wrap my arms around her, pull her into my bed, and never let go.
She’d managed to crack my armor, to get me to let my guard down a little. I’d even agreed to go to some party with her family. The thought of it was already causing me to want to retreat.
It was a battle inside of myself, this desire to hold her close and keep her safe versus the urge to push her away as soon as I let her in. But she’d made it clear it was what she expected, and the thought of losing her was scarier than letting her in. At least, it was for now.
I heard her opening drawers in my office, looking for a charger for her phone and the whole thing was so god damn domestic that I almost laughed out loud.
But then the panic set in.
She was in my apartment, sleeping in my bed, and it felt right. I thought about taking her to dinner tonight, about going over the rules for what she could wear, eat, stay. I couldn’t wait to get her to submit to me, to bring her back here and take her in any way I wished. She’d responded well to the spanking, and I was going to push her further tonight. She wanted to please me, and I was ready to teach her just how to do that.
The thought of it made me rock hard, and I flashed back to an image of her on her knees at the club the other night, crawling over to me, ready to do whatever I asked.
She needed to be careful out with that asshole Josh. I put my iPad away and went to remind her of that fact, to make sure she stayed safe and alert. I decided to implement a new rule - she would have to text me every hour on the hour, and if I didn’t hear from her, I would come and find her.
When I reached the office, she was sitting on the floor looking down at something in her lap. Her hair fell over her face, her legs curled under her. She looked small and vulnerable, and I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and carry her back to my bed, lock her away and never let her out of my sight.
“Charlotte,” I said. “Look at me.”
She looked up at me, her face set in stone. Her eyes were blazing with something unexpected – anger.
She picked up the folder that was in her lap. “You want to explain this?” she asked.
I took a step closer, until I could see what she was referring to. It was my file on Katie Price -- the pictures of her, the record of her movements, the places she’d gone, the times she’d gone there. Each one meticulously recorded and catalogued, right down to the minute.
“Why were you following Katie?” Charlotte demanded. “Tell me.”
I had to be careful.
If I said the wrong thing, I could lose her.
And that was unacceptable.
So I began to speak, choosing my words carefully.
CHARLOTTE
“Well?” I demanded, standing up and thrusting the folder at Noah. “What is this?”
“Charlotte,” he said, his voice even, “you weren’t meant to find that.”
“Yeah, no shit I wasn’t meant to find it. It’s probably not ideal for the woman you’re fucking to find a bunch of evidence that shows you were stalking someone who was just murdered.”
He shook his head and moved over to me, took the folder from my hands and paged through the documents. He still didn’t say anything, and it was infuriating. I had been in such a good mood, thinking I was finally getting through to him, and then just like that, my hopes were completely dashed. Again.
It was like being on a seesaw, flying up into the air, only instead of coming down, it felt like I was being throw off into the air before crashing straight onto the ground.
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” My voice was halfway between panic and desperation, with a dose of shrill added in for good measure. My heart was pounding, adrenaline pulsing through my body, the fight or flight instinct in full effect. I wasn’t sure if I should slap him across the face, or run out of there and never talk to him again.
If this wasn’t proof he was a murderer, I didn’t know what was. I wasn’t sure why I was even standing there, asking for an explanation.
He kept going through the pictures, page by page, maddeningly slowly, until I felt like I wanted to scream.
When he was done, he slid them carefully back into the folder and placed the folder back in his filing cabinet.
“Charlotte,” he said.
“Stop saying my name.” I hated the way it made me feel, hearing him say my name like that. It felt too intimate, too close, the way he said it, like he knew me. When the truth was, he didn’t know me at all. And I didn’t know him. This whole thing we’d been doing, the sex and the games and the control – that’s all it was. Just games.
Dangerous, risky games that might cost me my life.
“I was following Katie,” Noah said.
I closed my eyes, and my breath started coming in rapid gasps, so fast that I was afraid I was going to have a panic attack. I hadn’t had a panic attack since those last days with my dad, since he was lying in bed dying, and I was there with him, all alone, not sure what to do. I took in a long deep breath through my nose, counting to three beats, then holding it for three beats before exhaling for three beats. It helped a little bit, but as soon as I was stopped counting, my breath started coming fast again.
“Charlotte, please,” Noah said. “Let me get you some water. Sit down. You need to let me explain – ”
“Don’t,” I said. “No. I’m done with this.”
Noah stood there, his eyes boring into mine, blazing with fury. And something else, something right below the surface.
Hurt.
He was hurt I didn’t trust him, that I didn’t believe him. But I was done playing these crazy games.
Noah Cutler was a murderer.
And I needed to stay far, far away from him.
The day had turned overcast and dreary, and I walked fast toward the subway, ignoring Noah’s car, which was parked in front of his apartment.
I ducked into the bodega on the corner and bought myself a cheap phone charger, the kind that would probably last me two days before breaking, and a bottle of water. As soon as I was out on the sidewalk I opened the bottle and gulped down half of it. A second later, my mouth was dry again, my lips like sandpaper, my tongue thick and heavy.
My heart was still beating rapidly, even faster now that I’d been walking, and I could feel a tiny bit of sweat starting to pool in the small of my back. I wasn’t wearing a coat, but I was still hot, even though the day wasn’t particularly warm.
I drank some more water and forced myself to slow my pace as I walked. There was a sharp pain starting in my side, almost like a stitch, and even though I’d slowed down it began to take over my entire stomach, fading and bleeding into a dull ache.
As I stepped down into the subway station, I felt suddenly claustrophobic, like I was stepping into a coffin. Get it together, Charlotte, I told myself. Relax.
A second later, I was being swallowed up by the crowd as we filed into the subway car. I took a seat in between a woman with a yellow umbrella and a college kid wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. The ride to campus was at least twenty minutes, but I had no memory of it when I stepped out of the car. It was like my mind was disconnected from reality.