Page 48 of Scarred Sins
Out of everyone else in the world, why does it have to be him? Why do I have to share him?
“Stop it, Blair,’’ I choke a bitter laugh. “You’re acting like you own him.’’
Rationality flies out of the window the moment deviant images of Zoe and Arlo pop into my head. My imagination runs wild, blood freezes in my veins, and tears roll down my cheeks. The first man to ever make me feel safe can easily be snatched away from me.
What the fuck am I doing wrong in life?
As it turns out, I was right.
The sleep was terrible, but I was content that Arlo didn’t bother me. During the awake hours, which was more than half of the night, I spent lying in bed, eyes wide as I thought about my reaction and his reasoning.
It’s not normal for me to feel like this.
It’s not normal that the first thought I associate with that poor woman was hatred instead of helping her because, more or less, we’re in a similar situation. If anything, she probably has it worse because she’s legally bound to Nelson Adams.
He left me breakfast and a small note, promising to be back soon. Next to the plate is my phone, the same one I bought as soon as I arrived in New York, though the only person whose number I have is Wren’s.
That’s what I decided to do for the day.
The moment Wren picked up the phone call, I was met with screaming so loud that I had to remove the phone from my ear while she cursed the shit out of me. I don’t hold it against her; it’s mostly from a place of worry since I did just disappear without even so much as a note.
As an apology, I scheduled a small shopping spree and a coffee date next weekend.
I barely know the girl, but I need friends.
It’s not necessarily trust I’m feeling, but I’m trying. I’m trying to create a genuine friendship because Lord knows how lonely I am.
While waiting for Arlo to return, I get to eat the food he left for me. Then, I plan how to hide myself because it’s only now that the embarrassment of my previous actions starts hitting me hard.
To get rid of the utter and complete boredom, I start going through his penthouse. Surprisingly, aside from his bedroom, the rest of the bedrooms don’t have beds. That’s odd, but I brush it off as him having more important things than to add furniture that won’t be used anyway.
There isn’t anything in particular I’m looking for; I’m just trying to cure the boredom. Arlo keeps the entire penthouse spotless, aside from the couch that has a big, red stain on it. Why the hell is he not cleaning it if he’s such a clean freak?
On the other side of the living room is a small hallway with a single door. I saw it yesterday but thought it was either a storage room or a small bathroom. Now, as I stare at the only door that is in a different color than the rest, it seems to be calling to me.
Carefully, I move forward until I’m standing right in front of it.
A frown latches on my face.
It’s the only door, aside from the main one, that has a digital lock. It requires a passcode of four numbers. With the flashlight of my phone, I try to look for fingerprints to give me any indication of what four numbers it could possibly be.
It’s been wiped clean.
Of course.
A ridiculous thought comes to my mind, and I scoff, but my fingers still move, trembling a little as they hover over the keypad.
His obsession couldn’t possibly run that deep, could it?
0429.
The edges of the previously black keypad turn green, flashing for a second before the door opens ever so slightly. Startled, I stepped back, with Arson on my toe. She’s braver than me and immediately slips into the room to explore and is more than prepared to take on the challenge.
I, on the other hand, am second-guessing my resolve to snoop through Arlo’s home. He’s given me nothing but decency and privacy, yet here I am, breaching his in one of the worst ways possible. The thoughts overwhelm me, and I’m about to turn around and leave when I hear a crashing noise on the inside. The fear of Arson possibly smashing something and hurting herself gets the best of me, and I push the door open fully.
When I step inside, the lights flicker on, and I gasp.
The room is mainly empty, aside from a few monitors on the wall across from me and the biggest one on a computer desk. A black leather chair is in front of the desk, and Arson is trying to sleep on it.
