Obsessed by Serena Akeroyd

Author:Serena Akeroyd [Akeroyd , Serena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Serena Akeroyd Publishing Ltd.
Published: 2022-09-28T18:30:00+00:00

18

NICHOLAS

She stuck to her room for most of the day, and when I slinked past—way too many times than was healthy—I heard Scottie giggling or silence interspersed with the clacking of a keyboard.

Scottie’s existence had surprised me. I thought I’d known everything there was to know about her, but I’d never seen her with him. Not once. Of course, now I knew why.

Mrs. Linden.

A neighbor.

One who Phoebe grieved. Who had gifted her with the pair of Rolexes that currently sat in my desk drawer.

I didn’t appreciate how much of her world was inaccessible to me. I hated not being in the know. But she led a relatively quiet, if, busy life. She worked more than I liked but I’d thought her reasoning was the same as every other college student in my class—student loans. I’d never imagined she had a baby brother she was caring for, and I’d never known her mother was an alcoholic.

In truth, my behavior wouldn’t have changed had I had access to this information, but I intended on using this enforced proximity to learn everything I could about her.

With her having quit her job at the coffee shop, I was relieved that she only went out at night. I believed the café was far more dangerous than the bar because she was tucked safely behind the counter and surrounded by security, whereas at the coffee shop, she was left alone with a cash-filled register and only patrons to protect her.

Of course, it didn’t always work out that way. Just recalling that night when I’d seen one of the clubbers grab her and haul her into him made rage seethe inside me. Before I’d been able to go to her, protect her, she’d protected herself.

I’d never been happier to watch a man nurse his balls because Phoebe had damn well handed them to him. Still, knowing she could protect herself, didn’t ease the inherent need within me to keep her safe.

It was a compulsion.

One, I feared, was linked to my ex. I didn’t want Gina back, but Phoebe was like a fresh start, a new leaf, one I wanted to make sure didn’t rot and perish away to dust.

That obsessive need had led to me creating the transcribing job for her. I paid her above average rather than a high rate, because I didn’t want her to suspect I was behind the new position.

I knew enough about her to accept that she would reject any charity, so I’d dug out my old diaries, the books I’d handwritten, and had scanned each one then sent them to her.

I had thousands of them.

Before Rosa, when my muse hadn’t dried up and had been more than a withered sack, I’d been quite prolific. I’d never needed to be published, had just found joy in getting the story down on paper.

At the end of a long day, when Gina had been reading or primping or going out with her friends, I’d found a simple joy in sitting on the balcony attached

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