Chapter 4
“He listened in the dark. Not for love. For evidence.” –The Count of Monte Cristo
JUDE
He’s an idiot. I mean I already knew that, but now everyone else does too.
I watched him for a while and was astonished at how sloppy he was, but Evans is the type who is just arrogant enough to think he won’t ever get caught, and just enough of a narcissist to assume that everyone who wants him will kindly look the other way.
See? Idiot.
I didn’t peg her for the type to actually fall so easily for guys like that. Then again, she’s not the best judge of character; how she manages to look at herself in the mirror with a straight face is beyond me. She destroyed my life and gets to just magically live hers? Hell no.
They say the prettiest things are the most dangerous.
With long dark hair I always wanted to wrap around my hand and tug, to the full lips that always taunted me while still saying not to touch.
I wasn’t prepared to see her again. To smell her.
To have her invade my universe in such a violent way it took me a few seconds to calm down.
My body reacted, unhinged that I watch the sway of her hips now and I’m instantly hard. Does that make me sick or just human?
I guess it doesn’t matter, if anything I’m just acknowledging what a beautiful weapon she was. I still can’t believe how easily she folded. Nothing was real then; I have to tell myself that to be able to justify what I’m doing. She lied. She left. She chose money. I stayed. I suffered. I chose her.
I can’t wait to make her explode. Gorgeous olive skin, green eyes, and dark hair all wrapped up in a tempting package. One I used to assume fit right with me.
I ignore the pain in my chest when I think about the past—her face, her lies—I hardly feel it anymore.
It’s more of annoyance that it even exists and that I allowed someone as insignificant of her to cause it and take up head space.
Fucking, annoying. I shove in my ear pods and start making the rounds.
I’m doing my usual walk back to my apartment when I see him stumble up toward her apartment complex.
He types in the code and the dum-dum lets himself in.
Is he for real? What? Has she forgiven him?
Offered up her perfect ass for him to kiss?
I’m genuinely confused and stare up at her lights.
They flick on. I wait a few more beats then curiosity gets the best of me.
This is stupid. I live here now anyways.
I enter the code that unlocks the door then take the stairs two at a time to the third floor and realize he hasn’t actually made it past her front door.
He’s in front of it, mumbling, using the door as a way to brace himself up so he doesn’t fall on his ass.
His glasses are gone, not that it would help his blindness at this point.
Amused, I keep watching from the end of the hall.
He knocks with the strength of a wet noodle. “Open up! It’s Evans! It’s not true, they planted it!”
Another knock.
Then another.
At this point it’s just getting sad.
After the third knock, the door slowly opens up but only a crack. “You need to go.”
“No! Damn it!” He slams his hands against the door with what I’m assuming is his last shred of strength. “I’m serious. I love you! Screw those other girls!”
She curses. “Yeah well you um, kind of did, Evans.”
I smirk, then school my features. Not amusing. Not pretty. Not interesting. Liar.
“Leave.” She sighs. “I told you last time, Evans. I don’t want to call campus security but I will, alright? Just go home. It’s over.”
He smacks his hand against the door harder and shoves her back a few steps. I clench my fists. “You were just a pity fuck anyways, you know that? When Sandra was bored, when my ex came back into town. Do you really think you’re that smart? That pretty? I barely got hard each time—”
She slaps him across the face. It echoes down the hall. “Like I said. Leave before I call the police.”
“You’re disgusting.” He sneers. “A poor girl pretending to be rich, you couldn’t even afford tuition if your father wasn’t a dean.
Just how long do you think people will believe the little lies you tell, hmm?
About your perfect upbringing? Perfect family?
” Her eyes widen a fraction. Shock, a natural response to what happens when you lie about your life; not surprising.
She told everyone who asked she grew up with a silver spoon, she didn’t just recreate her life here, she stole mine.
A dead man’s. She said she mattered. When people asked about her house, she described mine, her car, she described mine, she even fucking stole art.
Who does that? She indulged my obsession with art in high school; she was never an artist. I died and it kind of fucking feels like she stole my life.
Part of me thought she was trying to live because I was in prison, the other part thought, wow, she’s living as if I’m dead and she wanted what I had the whole time.
“What? Scared I looked into you?” He laughs.
“I know all the little things you did right down to testifying—”
“Nope,” I whisper under my breath. Now he’s just pissing me off, how dare he take way my thunder and target all in one threat?
She’s mine to bury not his. The jealousy I feel that he would even think to do what I’ve been planning for years enrages me beyond belief.
Mine to stalk, mine to hunt, mine to destroy.
I don’t hesitate. I stomp down the hall. He barely has time to look over his shoulder before I grip the back of his neck and slam him against the wall. “Leave before I kill you.”
“Wh-what the hell, Jude?” he mutters. “I thought we were at least colleagues or friends, our fathers go way back--.”
“I don’t have friends, I loathe my father.” I flick a knife toward his neck. Also, I could destroy him if I want to, I just like to let my pawns assume friendship; it’s less work.
“Shit!” he mumbles. “Listen, I didn’t do anything, she was willing alright? This is between us I was already fire—"
“It’s sharp.” I grin pressing it a bit harder against his skin, the things I did—had to do to survive for two years would make him piss himself.
“And very clean, I hate my knives clean, pisses me off that people would assume they haven’t been extensively used,” I dig deep into his flesh until he starts to bleed.
I take a minute to relish in the way he tenses beneath my touch while his blood trickles down the metal.
“Whoops, guess it’s dirty now, I should just finish the job now that I’ve started…
” He’s shaking, and then I smell it. Piss.
I knew it. He’s either that drunk or that weak.
“Once a dog always a dog.” I jerk him by the neck again and shove him away.
I hate guys like him, guys who feed off their family name and money like leeches without anything good to add to society, the fact that she picked him enrages me even more because he touched her in ways I used to dream about.
“Leave the property, the cops would be too nice to you. Next time I see you I finish what I started and I’m good at burying things.
Daddy taught me well.” My eyes burn into him. “Run along Evans, play time is over…”
He trips over himself and runs out the door. The smell of piss leaves with him, right along with the smell of fear.
I sigh and turn toward Lilah. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.” She’s already crossed her arms, putting a visual barrier between us that says don’t touch.
Her eyes are locked on mine but I can tell she’s nervous with the way she bites down on her bottom lip.
It’s not meant to be enticing but I wonder if she’s biting hard enough to bleed and then I’m wondering if it would taste metallic or like a mixture of blood and the way she used to taste—the one and only time I crossed the line.
I clear my throat. “Yeah well he was one bad choice away from entering your apartment and trying to force his sad excuse for a dick near your lady parts, so, again, you’re welcome.”
Her eyes flash. “Why are you really here? Stalking me now?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I grin amused she’d think I would waste my time. “I’m the reason you pay only eight hundred a month instead of twelve.” I hold out my hand. “I’m your new neighbor and well, old landlord I guess.”
And I’ve been her landlord since she moved her since I first searched for her and discovered she wasn’t even really hiding but still being controlled by tiny little strings she didn’t even know existed thanks to my family, my dad, what we owned, and who we owned.
It just proved yet again that she was the same person who would smile while holding a knife in one hand and your heart in the other.
Nothing had changed and it was important I remember that.
The same girl that I trusted with every piece of my soul was nothing more than a pawn in a game she had no idea she was even a part of.
I just needed to find out the truth, that’s it.
Then I was out. Out of her life, free from mine, free from the constant reminders.
Maybe I’d go overseas. Shit, maybe I’d just take a vacation after the hell I’ve been through but I have better things to do than watch her.
Realization hits her in waves, first her mouth drops open, then all the blood leaves her face, and finally she braces her hand across the doorframe.
Beautiful. All of it. I wish I could take a picture of the shock on her face.
I dreamed of this face, of the wide eyes and parted lips so many fucking times. “Y-you you own the building?”
“And several others.” I add in as pleasure slams into me. “My family’s rich, nothing’s changed.”
Her eyes narrow. "Then why are you here? How are you alive? I’m so confused right now. I keep thinking that maybe you’re a ghost.”