Chapter 8
ISABELLA
My boss called me into his office to talk about how the book is going.
I sent him part of my draft the other day and I’m assuming he just finished it since he wants to talk to me about it.
All I’m hoping for is that he likes it.
I feel like I have been doing a good job with this story and how it’s progressing.
Slade’s advice and ideas are helping me a lot.
He has dark, twisted thoughts and ideas and I don’t know why I feel so drawn to that or him.
I haven’t seen him in two days which is becoming normal now. Sometimes he'll be gone for two to three days and then magically appear again before disappearing.
Just thinking about the small moment we had together makes me excited and eager to see him. How he looked down at my lips and he how close his body was to mine. I can’t get that moment with him out of my head.
We’re both scared of the possibilities and making the first move but there is undeniable tension.
I have no clue why he would be scared since he looks like he’d be a confident person especially when it comes to women, but I guess everyone has their insecurities that others wouldn’t understand.
Bentley is scrolling through his notes as I wait for him to say something. He usually does this before every meeting he has. He told me it’s so he can get his thoughts in order.
He looks away from his computer and smiles at me. “Isabella, my favorite writer.”
I laugh softly. “You say that to everyone.”
“Yes, but right now you are killing it with this new book. All of the marketing ideas you’ve given us are making me excited.
I couldn’t wait anymore, and I had to read some of it.
” He smiles at me. “I feel like you should write more romance. The way the main character seems so devoted and obsessed with the female main character makes me want a romance book about them and how they met.”
I smile at him. “Thank you, that means a lot.”
“I mean the tension between them in the flashbacks and the way he cares about her, and tortures people for her, really showcases that love. Your dialogue is amazingly done. I can’t wait to see what you do with the rest of this book,” Bentley compliments.
“When do you think you’ll be done? I’m excited to send it over to editing and get this book published. ”
“I should be done hopefully by the end of next month. It’s going to be a very long book and from what I’m hearing you want a second book.”
“Keep writing what you’re writing kid, and I will be begging for one.” He laughs and I join him. “One question. How do you come up with such creative torture scenes? I mean, only a serial killer could think of doing these things without grimacing.”
I smile and nod, appreciating his compliments.
Bentley wouldn’t usually appreciate my work like this, but he seems so fascinated with this book and wants to learn more. I'm shocked because he usually only gives a few things he likes about the book and then moves on.
“Honestly just reading other books on criminals and a little advice from a creative source,” I say, not giving Slade’s name.
“Well, keep up the good work. Just wanted to talk to you about how you’re doing, but it looks like I shouldn’t be worrying about you. You’re doing great.”
I stand from my chair and grab my notebook and laptop. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it, truly. I’m happy I can make you proud.”
I leave his office and write for a little more in my office before it’s time to head out for the day.
As I’m packing up all my things I can’t help but wonder if Slade will be at the apartment or if he is just going to ignore me like he did for the last few days by not coming home.
“Drinks after work today?” Becky asks, sticking her head into my office.
I give her a sad smile. “I’m still not twenty-one yet. I swear once this book is released we will go out for drinks whether it be at your house or you can sneak me drinks at the bar,” I promise.
She pouts. “It sucks having a friend slash coworker who can’t drink yet. You’re basically a baby.”
“You just turned twenty-one. You’re practically the same age as me.” I laugh.
“I know but it’s so boring having to wait for you. I can’t keep drinking with Adrian, it gets kind of tiresome,” she says, talking about her boyfriend.
“Be patient.”
She rolls her eyes and says ‘bye’ before leaving.
I finish packing up my stuff and locking and shutting down my computer before leaving the office.
It’s dark by the time I walk out the door and it’s moments like this when I’m glad the journey home isn’t long.
I still can’t help but remember the time where the guy took me into the dark alley. I thought I was going to get raped, robbed, or killed.
But then someone saved me.
I almost thought he killed that guy just so he could have his way with me before killing me. I can’t stop thinking about him. I feel like I keep seeing him around but that’s impossible. I won’t forget him or how he basically saved my life and I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.
Probably not.
I unlock my phone and look through my messages for the day, going on Instagram and seeing what’s on my feed.
New York is busy per usual with everyone walking back home from work. I know how to make my way home while keeping my eyes on the floor and avoiding bumping into people while doing so.
As I turn the corner, goosebumps appear on my skin.
I do my best to ignore the feeling of something crawling on my skin while I continue walking home, just trying to get inside the building so that I don’t have another situation like I did a few weeks ago.
The feeling doesn’t go away after five minutes so I stop and look around.
My eyes catch someone in a black hood. I notice his blue eyes from a few feet away. I’m frozen in my tracks as I stare at him, wondering if he’s looking at me.
I furrow my eyebrows and turn around to glance behind me in case he is staring at someone else but no one stands out. I turn back around but he’s gone.
Anxiety creeps up my throat and holds onto it as if I’m starting to suffocate.
I don’t think, I just run and the apartment building comes into view.
I run faster as it feels like someone is going to reach out and grab me.
When I get inside the building I take the elevator up to our floor, pressing the seven button a bunch of times so that the doors close.
As I unlock the apartment, I look around the hallway, making sure it’s just me. I push the door open and lock it right away once I’m inside.
I rest my back against the door and close my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to relax.
It’s fine.
He’s gone.
He can’t hurt you.
He already took too much.