9: Are You Watching Me Right Now?
1269 Words
MEERA
The doorbell rang again just before I could get to it. I looked at the camera to see two uniformed police officers- a lady and a man at the door, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
What are they doing here?
“Hello. How may I help you, please?”
“Good afternoon. Is this the residence of Miss Meera Adams? We're from the City Police Station. We'd like to chat with you regarding your presence at Club X last week.”
Oh my God. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach, and I had to clamp my hand over my mouth. What was I going to tell them? I opened the door and kept a polite smile on my face as I led them to sit down. Their questions were general.
Was I a regular at the club?
Was that my first time there?
Did I notice anything strange that night?
What time did I leave?
I answered as truthfully as I could while hoping that they wouldn't ask anything about him. Then, I wouldn't know how to answer them.
“So, from the CCTV, we gathered that you left with Mr. Warner King,” the lady started, and I couldn't stop the frown that marred my face. “How well acquainted with him are you?”
“Excuse me, who is that?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop myself. Of course, he could only be one person, but the male officer had already turned his phone screen to me, and on it was the man who had been rearranging my guts during the past week.
Warner King. I couldn't have, in a thousand years, guessed his name would be Warner King. And again, the name sounded like something I've heard before.
“Ohh, him. We only met that night.”
“And you followed him home?” I heard the judgment in her voice, and I stared at her full in the eyes.
“Yes, we hooked up. Is that a problem?”
“Of course not. So have you seen him since that night?”
“And how is this relevant to the murder investigation?”
It wasn't. They both apologized, and the guy apologized again at the door for infringing on my privacy and thanked me for my cooperation.
I collapsed against the door after locking it. It was only then that I could relax, even though my heart was still pounding and my hands were still shaking.
Warner King. So that was his name—the man who was slowly incinerating other parts of my life. I wanted to call him to be careful because the police were investigating the murder, but I had neither his number nor his address.
It's been three days since I last saw him. Three days since he took me to his house in the middle of nowhere, three days since we touched each other like it was our catharsis.
He had asked his driver to drop me off afterwards, and that was the last time I heard from him. I fleetingly wondered if he would reach out again or if he was already tired of me.
My ringtone distracted me from my thoughts, and I walked to my room to pick it up. It was a new number.
“Little Dove,” that husky voice came on immediately. I picked it up, and the phone nearly slipped from my hands in shock.
How and why was he calling me now when I was just thinking about him?
“What… How did you get my number?” I asked even though I knew it was a silly question. Of course, getting my number was the least thing he could do.
He only chuckled.
“You did well with your interview with the officers, " he said out of nowhere, and alarm bells went off in my ears. How did he know that? I thought of all the possible ways he could know, and the only viable one was secret cameras in my apartment.
More alarm bells rang in my ears, and my hands tightened around my phone.
“You… How did you know the police were here?”
“How do you think I know?” he answered me with a question, and from his tone, I could tell he had a look on, but there was nothing funny about this.
“You have one of them on your payroll, right?” The idea suddenly popped into my head, and I laughed. That must be it. Of course, that must be it.
He laughed too and was about to say something else when I heard another voice in the background.
“Talk to you later, Little Dove.” Then he hung up, the suddenness of it all shocking me. I instinctively looked around my room, expecting to find some hidden cameras, but there was nothing there, and there was nothing in the sitting room either. So it was definitely the other option. He has one of the officers on his payroll.
But what exactly was I getting myself into? Sleeping around with a man who murdered someone and who was influential enough to bribe police officers?
My curiosity wouldn't allow me to rest, so I looked him up online, and that made me realize why his name sounded familiar. He was a businessman, a very successful one, and a self-made billionaire who had investments in many high-ranking companies.
According to Google, he recently acquired a company in New York City, which is why he was here. His home was in Las Vegas.
So he would probably leave when he was done finalizing what he came here for, and our fling would become nonexistent. It broke my heart a little, but what was I expecting before? I've never been better for anything than casual flings. The only man I loved was now happily married to another woman, and I'd probably never find love.
That thought and realization dampened my mood, but I didn't want to drown my sorrow by binge-watching or eating, so I opted for cleaning my room instead, and hours later, I brought out the last box in my wardrobe to clean, only to find all the s*x toys and items he had sent to me the past week.
I had completely forgotten about them.
And now staring at them, I was utterly enthralled. I picked them up one after the other and examined them while my mouth watered. My mind ran wild with thoughts of what he could do to me with them. Before he sent me off the last time, he told me the last time we saw, he'd f**k me with the toys, and now my p***y throbbed and ached from just picturing him.
The loudness and suddenness of my ringtone startled me, and when I picked the phone up, it was him.
“If you like your dildo that much, why haven't you used it since that last time?”
“Excuse me?” My thoughts ran wild, and my blood ran cold.
“You've been staring at it for almost 5 minutes now,” he repeated like this was a normal thing, “if you like it that much, why did you hide it away in your closet for more than a week?”
What? I stared at my other hand. I was really holding the dildo, and I've been looking at it for a while now.
“How did you… You’re watching… Are you watching me right now?”
- Writer
