Page 14 of The Road Less Traveled By

“Bree, are you and Alex an item?”

“Is this a first date, Bree?”

“Care to comment on the rumors that Ralph was wrongfully accused?”

My steps falter as that last statement hits me in the face.Wrongfully accused. I pause before the door of the coffee shop, my head starting to leave my body before I feel a hand against my arm.

“Bree?” Vince asks me, eyes full of concern. “Let’s get you inside.”

I nod at him, regaining my composure as I put my fakest smile back on and act like that statement didn't rattle me as much as it did.

Good God, some days, I just wish it would all stop.

As I sit down across from Alex—in a window seat—I paste on my fakest smile and pretend like I’m happy to see him. “Hi.”

He reaches for my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles, the flashes still going crazy. I notice we’re the only two people in the coffee shop, and I see a few of his bodyguards posted around as well. Vince has taken up his spot in the far corner, where he’s able to see every entrance point. “Hi, baby.”

“Did you rent out this whole place just for me?” God, I don't even recognize my own voice. This might be my version of a customer service voice. I sound like my sister at her old job.

“I did. I also got you your favorite drink.” He slides the cup over to me, and I take a sip, letting the caffeine calm me down and erase my headache. “Boy, they really are going crazy out there, aren't they?”

“Well, you’reyou, and wasn't that the point of this? Cleaning up your playboy image, Mr. Adams?”

“Exactly right, Miss Hart, but I thought for sure you’d back out before this. I guess I underestimated you.”

“That you did. I do what I’m told, and I do it well.” God, I hate this already. Is this what real-life dating is like? If it is, I’m happy to know I’m not missing much. This is as close as I’ll ever get to going on a date with someone, so I better make it count. “So, what does one talk about on a date?”

“Oh, honey, I have no clue. I’m not much of a dater per se. I much prefer my partners to be horizontal and silent during our time together.”

Ew.“What a charmer you are.” Part of me is confused as to his attitude. I did some digging on Alex after our initial meeting, and he had a long-term girlfriend. Granted, it was very on again and off again, but all the pictures I saw of them together, he looked at Lily like she was the only person in the world. I could tell he was in love with her—maybe he still is. They only broke up about a year ago, and I wonder what happened.

If I had that once-in-a-lifetime type of love, I’d do anything to keep it. Unless Alex fucked up pretty badly. I can only speculate since I don't believe all the rumors, but I wonder why he agreed to this if he could still love her.

Though he might not, since he’s been fucking most of Hollywood’s up-and-coming actors and actresses since the big split.

“So, you’re really into books. I wasn't aware that so many people were hardcore readers.”

I nod. “I do love escapism. I’ve read around thirty books so far this year, and—”

He cuts me off. “I don't think I’ve read a book since the second grade.”

Not this.Anytime someone finds out what I do, that phrase is the most common one said back to me. It drives me insane because what am Isupposed to say to that? Congratulations and here's a medal for being illiterate? “Everyone has their own hobbies, I guess.”

He takes a sip of his drink before he continues the conversation, and I try my best to pay attention, but it’s hard when all Alex does is talk about himself. He’s not even that interesting of a guy, and I wonder how his fake charm works on so many people. That’s the one thing I love about being an influencer: I think people can tell I’m genuinely just a girl and her books, nothing more, nothing less.

A sharp noise startles me, and all of a sudden, I can feel my skin start to crawl.

He’s in the house. His steel-toed boots are thumping up the stairs. He’s pausing in front of the closet door. He’s dragging me out by my ankles, and I’m about to scream, but he puts a gun to my throat that I thought was a knife, and—

“Excuse me,” I say as I get up from the table as elegantly as I can before beelining it for the bathroom.

I manage to get in, but my legs feel like jelly as I collapse to the cold tile floor, all the memories of that night rushing through my mind like a tsunami.

I’m not safe.

I’ll never be safe.

I’m going to die.

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