After hours of nagging and persistent persuasion in her dimly lit bedroom, I finally convinced Beth to take me to the underground dens she often boasted about. She was hesitant, of course. After witnessing my terrified withdrawal the last time, she wasn't thrilled about the idea of dragging me back into the chaos. But I had a mission, and I needed her help. I spun a story about needing it for "research purposes" for my next novel, a line that eventually won her over, though she still wasn't enthusiastic.

Beth's reluctance was understandable. My previous experience had been a disaster—a nightmarish blur of confusion, fear, and that strange, intoxicating arousal that still haunted me. Even now, the memory of his voice, the scent of his skin, sent shivers down my spine. It wasn't just the danger that had rattled me; it was the way my body had responded to him, the way I had lost control. I was sure now that I had been drugged that night—maybe some kind of aphrodisiac had been slipped into the food or drink. It was the only explanation for the volcanic desire that had erupted within me, unlike anything I had ever felt before.

But the aftermath was far from pleasant. The fire, the chaos, and the fear that followed had burned the night into my memory for all the wrong reasons. The only small comfort was that no one had died in the blaze, though several people had suffered severe burns. I couldn't shake the guilt, knowing that the man who had claimed to save me had caused so much pain. He insisted that his actions were for my protection, but I couldn't believe that for a second. How could he have known I would be there that night? His motives were twisted, and I was determined to uncover the truth.

The threat he sent afterwards only fueled my resolve. I needed to find him, to expose him, and to end this twisted game before it consumed me completely. I was willing to go to any lengths to achieve that. I had already started planning—gathering information, analyzing every detail, and formulating my approach. My strategy had three parts: Plan A, keeping a watchful eye on the neighbourhood for anything suspicious; Plan B, drawing him out by putting myself in a dangerous situation; and Plan C, reaching out to the wealthy hosts of that fateful party to see if any security footage could provide a clue.

Plan B was already in motion. Beth had agreed to take me to another "invite-only" party, one held in an undisclosed location. She had to pull some strings with her old contacts to get us an invite, as she hadn't attended these wild gatherings in years. Her reluctance stemmed from her desire to leave those reckless teenage days behind. But I wasn't giving her much of a choice.

While I waited for the party details, I focused on Plan A. I ordered a set of doorbell cameras and another facing the street. It wasn't much, but it was a start. If he was watching me as closely as I suspected, these cameras would at least give him something to think about.

That night, I spent hours researching ways to keep a watchful eye on my surroundings. YouTube videos, articles—none of them offered the kind of insight I needed. This wasn't just about securing my home; it was about outsmarting a stalker who already knew too much. He had access to my life in ways that unnerved me. He knew where I went, who my friends were, what I did all day, and he even had a clear view into my bedroom window. The thought made my skin crawl.

As I lay in bed, lost in thought, my phone buzzed softly beside me. A message. I picked it up, surprised to see it was from Charlie.

"Hi! Awake?"

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I had almost forgotten that I had given him my number earlier that day.

"Hey, Charlie," I replied, keeping it casual. "What's up?"

I watched the screen as the three dots appeared, indicating he was typing a response. He was quick—almost as if he had been waiting for my reply.

"I'm sorry my sister cut us off so awkwardly this morning. It was really nice talking to you, and I wanted to let you know that."

"You wanted to tell me that five minutes before midnight?" I teased, feeling a playful flutter in my chest.

"I wasn't expecting you to reply until tomorrow," he shot back smoothly. Ah, so he was smart too.

"And what did you hope I would reply in the morning?" I pushed, curious about his intentions.

This was the moment that would reveal his true feelings—whether he was just being friendly or if there was something more behind his midnight texts. I waited, my heart beating a little faster as the dots appeared again, then disappeared, then reappeared. He was hesitating, perhaps weighing his words carefully. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his message came through.

"Why speculate when you can tell me yourself? It's already the next day."

The playful challenge in his words made me smile. He was flirting, and he wasn't being subtle about it. I liked that. It was a welcome distraction from the darkness that had been clouding my mind.

"Well, Mr. Mysterious, what would you like me to tell you?" I replied, deciding to play along.

"I'd like you to tell me if I made a good impression this morning. Did I?"

I paused, considering my response. The truth was, he had made a very good impression—charming, easy to talk to, with a certain allure that I couldn't quite put my finger on. But I wasn't about to make it too easy for him.

"You were... interesting," I teased, leaving him hanging just enough to keep him intrigued.

"Interesting, huh? I can work with that. So, would you be interested in coffee sometime? Or maybe something stronger?"

"Depends on how well you read my book," I countered, recalling our earlier conversation.

"I'm already halfway through it," he replied quickly. "You've got me hooked."

I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. My book was my baby, and knowing that he was genuinely interested meant a lot. But I wasn't ready to let my guard down just yet.

"Finish the book, and then we'll talk," I typed, sending a winking emoji to lighten the mood.

"Challenge accepted," he replied. "But just so you know, I'm not one to back down easily."

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied, a smile playing on my lips as I imagined the possibilities.

Our conversation stretched well into the night, filled with laughter, light teasing, and an undercurrent of flirtation that kept me on edge in the best way possible. Charlie had quickly become a welcome distraction from the turmoil of my life—a breath of fresh air amidst the storm. In those moments, I allowed myself to forget the danger that seemed to lurk in every corner, savoring the escape that Charlie offered.

I wasn't ready to analyze what I was feeling, nor did I want to. I was simply enjoying the ride, caught up in the thrill of late-night texts and shared secrets. Still, there was a small voice in the back of my mind questioning if I should be getting this close to him, especially without telling Beth. We weren't dating—not yet anyway—but if this continued, if it ever did turn into something more, I'd have to come clean. Beth was my only friend in this strange town, and I couldn't afford to lose her trust.

But those thoughts were easy to push aside in the glow of our nightly conversations. Charlie had me giggling like a teenager, staying up until the early hours of the morning, sharing memes, exchanging funny stories, and recommending books and movies. For three nights straight, we kept up this routine, never once calling each other, just texting until our eyes couldn't stay open any longer. The absence of labels made it all the more exciting. We were just friends—friends with a secret that made each exchange even more delicious.

Every time we had to say goodnight, I felt a pang of disappointment. I'd lie in bed, smiling to myself, already thinking about what we'd talk about the next day. It was like an addiction, this new feeling of anticipation that had taken root inside me. Each evening, I looked forward to wrapping up my day so I could sit by my phone, waiting for that first message from Charlie. And when it came, everything else faded away. The world and all its troubles ceased to exist during those few hours we spent together.

Strangely enough, Kyle had gone silent during this time, which was convenient for me. His absence allowed me to focus entirely on Charlie, to indulge in this new connection without the shadow of my past intruding.

One night, our conversation took a deeper turn. We found ourselves debating the merits of rom-coms and how each culture brought its own flavor to the genre. I confessed my love for classic meet-cutes and grand romantic gestures, listing my favorites like When Harry Met Sally and The Notebook. Charlie, on the other hand, believed that love didn't follow any particular pattern. According to him, love often sneaks up on you when you're least expecting it and with someone who might not even be your type. He spoke with such conviction, describing love as something that strips away all your defences and insecurities, leaving you feeling safe in someone else's presence. His words struck a chord with me.

The conversation drifted into more personal territory as we shared stories of our first loves. For me, it was my husband—a chapter of my life that had ended in heartbreak. Charlie listened intently as I recounted the good parts and the bad, sometimes asking questions, other times just quietly absorbing everything I said. By the time we had been talking for over a week, I found myself growing more attached to him with each passing day. His messages made my heart flutter, and I couldn't help but wonder why we hadn't met in person yet. I knew he was out of town, which was the only thing that kept me from pushing for a date.

But then, as if he had read my mind, Charlie sent a message that made my pulse quicken.

"I finished your book. I want to tell you what I think about it. Coffee tomorrow?"

The timing was impeccable. We quickly settled on a date and place—a quaint little café I had visited once with Beth. It seemed perfect for a first date. But as the excitement set in, so did the nerves. I hadn't been on a date in what felt like forever, and I started overthinking every little detail. I wanted to call Beth, to spill everything, but I held back. It was too soon, too complicated. And besides, the thrill of keeping this secret was too tantalizing to resist.

Determined to look my best, I decided to call it an early night. I needed to get some proper sleep, especially since I had been staying up so late lately. The lack of rest was beginning to show in the form of dark circles under my eyes, and I didn't want Charlie to see that. After a long, hot shower, I slipped into bed, but sleep didn't come easily. My mind was too busy, racing with thoughts of our upcoming date.

I found myself replaying our conversations, smiling at his jokes, and feeling a warm blush spread across my cheeks. His humor, though cheesy at times, always managed to make me laugh. It was in these quiet moments that I realized just how much I was starting to like him.

As I lay there, the steam from my shower still lingering in the air, an unexpected wave of desire washed over me. It had been so long since I'd felt this way—so long since I'd even thought about my own needs. Without fully realizing it, I began to undress, standing in front of the mirror and taking in my reflection. It had been ages since I'd truly looked at myself, and admired the curves of my body.

Grabbing a bottle of cocoa-scented lotion, I slipped back into bed, clad only in my bra and panties. Slowly, I began to apply the lotion, starting at my feet and working my way up. The rich scent of cocoa filled the room, mingling with the warmth of my skin. The sensation was intoxicating, and as my hands moved over my body, I felt a deep, primal need begin to build within me.

I let my hands explore, tracing the lines of my figure, and feeling the softness of my skin. When I cupped my breasts, a soft moan escaped my lips, sending a shiver down my spine. My left hand began to drift lower, grazing over my navel until it found its way beneath the fabric of my panties. I was already wet, my body aching for release. Tugging my underwear aside, I spread my legs, fingers finding my clit with practised ease. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the pleasure that rippled through me.

But just as I was about to reach my peak, a memory from that night flashed in my mind—the night with the stranger. His touch had been rough, dominant, and devoid of tenderness or love, yet it had awakened something deep within me. The thought of him sent a tremor through my body, heightening the sensation. I could almost hear his voice, whispering dirty things in my ear, stoking the fire inside me. I moaned, lost in the fantasy, my body craving to know the man who had ignited this primal desire.

As I climaxed, I opened my eyes, reality crashing down on me. Guilt and disgust twisted in my gut as I realized what I had just done. I had thought of him—the man who had threatened my life—while pleasuring myself. It was sick, twisted, and wrong on so many levels. But no matter how much I tried to push the thoughts away, they clung to me, refusing to let go.

There was only one way I could banish these thoughts for good. Beth had once told me that the best way to get over a man was to get under a different one. I just hoped that Charlie would be the right one to help me forget.

As I lay there, catching my breath and trying to calm the racing thoughts in my mind, my phone buzzed with a new message. I reached over, half-expecting it to be Charlie again, maybe with some late-night sweet words to lull me to sleep. But when I saw the name on the screen, my heart skipped a beat.

It was an unknown number.

My thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating. A wave of dread washed over me, chilling the warmth that had just flooded my body. Finally, I opened the message.

"Did you enjoy that, Mila?"

My blood ran cold. There was no mistaking it—he was watching me. He knew what I had just done, who had been there in my most private moment. My hand trembled as I stared at the message, my mind spinning.

The thrill of my upcoming date with Charlie was instantly replaced by a creeping sense of unease. I had been so caught up in the excitement of meeting him that I hadn't considered the possibility that someone was watching me. 

But how?