Page 14 of The Burdens We Share
If that were true, that would mean that he packed it before I agreed to him staying here. The cocky bastard knew I would cave. I practically fell into his mouse trap. I frown at him and turn on my heel, no longer wanting to be in his presence. If I gave it another few minutes, I’d forget about his arrogance and probably start ogling him. Distance was good. Distance was safe.
Dallas calls to my back, “Tomorrow morning you have to be on set for your movie. I’ll drive you and I’ll be on set with you.”
I groan, “Great.”
I can hear a very faint, very low laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. It immediately causes a smile to form on my lips at the sound of it and I almost, almost forget that I should be angry at him. God, if I almost caved on day one I don’t even want to know what I’m going to do in a week or two weeks from now. Just how long would he be my shadow? I hope he finds my stalker soon because the sooner he catches him, the sooner he can get lost.
Chapter 7
Ivory
Dallas didn’t bother meat all yesterday after our little face-off in the foyer. In fact, I was relieved to have not run into him at all after that. I stayed in the movie theater and he stayed wherever he was in my house. I tried to force some vegetables down my throat yesterday to get some food in my stomach, and even then I didn’t see him in the kitchen. Was the man a machine? Did he eat at all like a human being?
My effort at getting some nutrition was weak. While I was snacking on cucumbers and tomatoes, the gears in my mind started moving and all I could think of was the fact that someone was in my house and that someone has an unhealthy and very dangerous obsession with me. I was immediately nauseated and lost my appetite.
Now, I’m standing at the foot of my stairs mustering the courage to go up. I’m too scared to go up to my room, but I know I’m gonna have to suck it up because I need to get ready for set and Dallas isn’t Nate. He doesn’t know where things are in my room and we also aren’t casual enough for me to ask him to get something for me. I can’t just live in the home theater forever.
“What are you doing?” A deep voice questions from behind me and I yelp and jump back.
I turn to find Dallas leaning against the wall next to the staircase. He looks intrigued but also relaxed. I’ve never seen him relaxed. “I was going upstairs to get ready for set.”
He crosses his arms over his chest like he just caught a child lying, “Didn’t look like you were doing much of anything. Itlooked to me like you were just standing there and staring at the steps rather than going up them.”
I give him a scowl, “I was thinking.”
He pushes off the wall and takes a step towards me, “I was doing some thinking myself. Do you want to know what I realized?”
I try to straighten my spine, attempting to appear confident, but it’s no use against this giant, “Not particularly, but I assume you’ll be telling me anyway. Because when have you ever needed permission?”
Dallas smirks and stops a foot away from me, leaning down to speak very close to my face in a low voice, “I realized that you haven’t been upstairs once since I’ve been here. You’re sleeping in the theater and you were also in the theater two days ago when yourfriend,” he refers to Nate, “was here. And I know why?”
I roll my eyes, “I doubt it.”
“You’re afraid,” he calls me out.
I immediately recoil, my eyes lowering to the ground. Usually, I have a lot of fight in me. I don’t let people intimidate me and I sure as shit don’t let people win verbal battles against me. But this? When my stalker broke into my house he stole my resolve.
Dallas sighs and it has an angry note to it, “Why are you afraid to go upstairs?”
My voice comes out so weak it almost sounds like I’m whispering, “You know why.” He’s a smart man. He knows the reason, he just wants to hear me say it. He wants me to make myself vulnerable, more vulnerable, and I won’t allow it.
“I want you to say it,” he demands and there’s something about the tone he uses that almost makes me want to obey him immediately, but I clamp my jaw shut.
I keep my head lowered and he continues, “If you won’t, I will. You’re afraid to go upstairs because the thought reminds youthat someone was in your home, in your personal space. You don’t feel safe in your own bedroom.” How is it that this man can read me perfectly like I’m some kind of open book for him, but I can’t read anything going on in his head or on his face? It seems extremely unfair.
Betraying tears spring to my eyes but I refuse to cry in front of this man. I force them at bay and rub my eyes with my palms. I feel so extremely fatigued and I slept more than was necessary.
He must see something on my face because he sighs and the tension in his shoulders seems to ease slightly. He retreats a step from me and starts ascending the stairs without another word. “What are you doing?” I ask.
He looks down at me over his shoulder as he continues, “I’m going upstairs.”
I scoff. “I can see that. I have eyes.”
“You have legs too. Use them to follow me,” He glances down at my legs before he turns his head and continues.
I don’t know what it is, but he makes it very hard to deny him when he commands people to do things. Maybe it’s just his strong aura. Either way, my legs betray me and I hesitantly start to follow him up the stairs on shaky legs. The entire time, neither of us says a word and I can feel my cheeks growing hot. It feels strange to be following Dallas upstairs to my bedroom.
He stops outside my door and turns the silver knob, pushing it open. I make no move to enter the room. Instead, I shift on anxious legs. He sighs, “Your room is perfectly safe.”
