Page 42 of His Dark Vices

It happened in the building, he's a guy who lives here. He saw me looking sad when I got home and asked me what was up, then things took off from there. We just kept on talking. Since Sam and I aren't an official couple or anything, I'll say, I agreed to go on a date with him. Doesn't seem like Sam is into me anymore anyway. It's not like he's telling me why he's treating me like shit all of a sudden.

As I finalize the story, it makes me smile. Yeah, it's passive aggressive and immature, and I might even be inventing this story for nothing. But it makes me feel a little in control.

And the pain and fear is turning into spite.

If he thinks he can play me, I'll play him right back.

Thinking about catching that fucker in a lie puts a little excitement into my voice, so I quickly gush to Companion in a recorded diary entry, disguising my motives and putting myself into the mind of a girl who is just getting caught up in the chaos of life—but having fun while doing it.

Yeah, right.

When it's saved to my account, I toss my phone aside and drop back down heavily onto the bed. Now that exhaustion is sneaking back up on me, I don't think I will leave bed, not for the whole day. I'm just going to lie here and rot.

And hope like hell I've blown this whole thing completely out of proportion.

When I next wake in the early afternoon, the world doesn't feel any saner or more secure. But at least I'm not exhausted anymore.

That doesn't stop me from going through the day like a zombie.

I order food in and try to comfort myself with mindless shows on my laptop, but it's like I'm not there, like I'm not the one shoveling food into my mouth just to shut my stomach up. And every step of the way, every hour that passes, I'm grateful for how numb I feel. Occasionally, reality threatens to break up the monotony, but I just turn my back by switching the show or diving into videos, looking for a rabbit hole.

Any escape.

Because I can't deal with the implications of Sam spying on me. Not at least until I know with certainty that he is.

Honestly, I want to go over to his house and shake the answer out of him. I hate this waiting. But I have to give him a chance to access my data. I can't leave any room for him to call me crazy and wiggle his way out of this.

When we move forward from this, I want to be able to laugh at how paranoid I was. I want to feel stupid for doing all of this.

I want him to prove me wrong.

Because I miss him.

Nevermind that this plan assumes he even still wants to keep seeing me.

He does, doesn't he?

The day passes like that, with me lying in bed, tending to my basic needs, trying to find comfort until the sun sets. I watch my laptop until my eyes burn, then eventually try to fall asleep. It takes hours since I slept so late, and after tossing and turning between brief, merciful periods of unconsciousness, another cold morning steals into the room.

This time, I throw the blankets off of myself and charge into the day. I gave Sam all of Friday to look at my Companion data—which is being generous if he looked at my data on the plane—and this evening, I'm going to show up unannounced and pick up the tablet I left at his place. It's supposed to be there for when I stay unexpectedly, and me picking it up will be another sign that I'm distancing myself from him. While I'm there, I'll take note of how he behaves.

But first, I need to start acting like I haven't been crying since I last saw him. That means getting back into the rhythm of normalcy.

I spend the day cleaning, catching up with what I've missed in the news and at work. Things are quiet, thank goodness. When my apartment looks a little better, I dive into self-care, taking the time to deep condition and detangle my hair, put on a face mask, and even soak in the tub. The whole time, I try to keep my mind rooted in the present moment—not thinking about the past and definitely not thinking about a future based on conjecture.

It's just me, right here.

The quality time with myself—with my phone on silent—leaves me feeling restored and refreshed by the time I'm ready to get dressed and meet Sam. I put on simple warm clothes—a turtleneck sweater tucked into high-waisted skinny jeans andsome boots, all black—throw on my coat, and head out into the evening, ignoring how the cold seems to warn me against my mission. I keep Companion's location tracker on. I don't care if he knows I'm coming. I'm getting into that penthouse one way or another. But for all the resistance I'm prepared to come up against, it's not difficult at all to worm my way into his private elevator after I drive over. Security waves me up like I'm expected, smiling warmly. It takes me a moment of hesitation, but I return the smile.

Right, I'm young and carefree. I have a date tomorrow.

The elevator ride doesn't give me enough time to fully step into character, but I do my best. When the doors open, I crack a smile, and there he is, lingering expectantly.

What strikes me first is that he looks nervous, his eyes on the floor and his arms crossed. But when he looks up and sees that it's just me in the elevator, he looks surprised. His body visibly relaxes. I frown and step out, wondering who he thought I was going to be.

"Bree!" he finally says, like he just remembered to greet me. "What are you doing here?"

Any other time, he would have pulled me into his arms with a hungry look in his eyes. I try not to look as hurt as I feel.

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