Dr. Good: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance by Flora Ferrari

Author:Flora Ferrari
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-17T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Macie

“What is it?” I ask when Miller returns from the balcony.

He’s got a grim look on his face, his silver-sparkling cheeks tight with his tension. I lay the breadknife down and place my hands on the kitchen island, a tremor moving through me.

“Is it about him?”

He nods somberly. “I hired someone to look into your apartment.”

“What? How did they do that?”

“He picked the lock,” Miller says. “I know I should’ve gotten the keys, but last night…”

“No, no,” I rush to say. “I don’t care about that. As long as this man can be trusted?”

“He can, he’s very professional. And anyway, if anybody invaded your privacy – especially somebody I hired – I’d break their goddamn legs.”

Liquid heat flows through me, lighting up every part of me, the way it does every time Miller says something like this. The meeting with Kayla has really changed how I see this whole thing, allowing me to put my anxiety aside…

Or at least try to put it aside, instead of willingly throwing myself into paranoia.

“Derrick had your place bugged.” Miller leans against the kitchen island, his muscles throbbing through the fabric of his suit, like any second he could snap. “That bastard has been listening to you. We don’t know how long for.”

“Can we go to the police?”

Miller shrugs. “We can try. But how can we prove he put the devices there?”

“We can’t.” My shoulders drop. “I’m so sick and tired of this freak following me around. All I did was be nice to him a couple of times, talk about books with him. How does that mean I deserve this?”

I try to force the tears away, but they rise unbidden in my eyes, hot and sharp as they flow down my cheeks.

Miller rushes around the kitchen island and pulls me into a hug, his fingers moving with comforting tingles through my hair as he guides my face to his muscled chest.

I grip onto him, feeling how solid his abs are through his shirt.

“This isn’t your fault,” he snarls as his fingers make tingling patterns in my hair, soothing me as the pain tries to make jagged paths through my body. “There’s something wrong with this bastard, Macie. You can’t blame yourself.”

“But why did he have to pick me?” I croak, knowing I sound unhinged but unable to stop myself. “I don’t get it. I’m not… nobody picked me in high school. I wasn’t picked in sports and I was always too nervous to put myself forward in group projects, even in English lit. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I wish I had an answer,” he murmurs, his voice gruff even though it’s quiet. “But that would mean getting inside the head of this sick fuck and that’s something I’m unwilling to do. But you need to know that this isn’t even partly your fault. All the sick things this bastard has done, they’re on him.”

I get myself together, pushing away the tears, and then turn back to the kitchen island where I’ve placed the bread and the sandwich fixings.

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