12. CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Marcus

I haven't left Leighton in our bedroom alone again. Haven't slept, either.

Too many fantasies to act on. Too many needs to fulfill.

My exploration of her body started as innocent. Lying at her side, watching her. Her chest rose and fell with every breath. Her light eyelashes rested on her cheeks.

I'd been there to absorb the sweet sight. To touch her. My fingers threaded through her soft damp rosy locks. My mouth traced the length of her neck, the delicate line of her jaw. I pressed my lips to hers. Softly, to not wake her up.

I'd been sweet to her in those hours she slept. I was the man she remembered. That man imagined a serene, peaceful future for her and me. One where she'd accept me without question. A thousand kids and a white picket fence. A lifetime of tender moments.

Which I couldn't give to her. Not fully. Not when my obsession with her made me aware there was a whole other side of me.

A couple of hours after she dozed off, my eyes drifted lower. The ropes around her ankles called to me. Blood rushed to my groin at the sight of her bound and defenseless.

Every perverse desire rose to the surface. I didn't even bother trying to fight it. I fingered her sweet cunt. Rubbed her clit the way she likes.

When Leighton came on my hand in her sleep, she sighed my name. I sighed hers when I came on her navel minutes later.

Afterwards, it was clear enough that sleep wasn't in the cards for me.

I got out of bed. From dusk until now, this afternoon, I jogged outside, worked out. Put on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. Fixed our meals for the next day. Searched Leighton's name online for any missing person's reports.

There were none.

I've been lying in bed beside her for hours since, reading and watching over her.

The sun begins to set in the sky. I hover over Leighton who's sleeping peacefully, albeit tied up. Earthy tones and the last lights of the day paint her face in golden hues. I'm satisfied.

Only I'm not.

Something's nagging at me.

Leighton will require nutrition, and soon. Food and water that I have set for her .

She needs sleep just as much. There's more, so much more I'm going to do to her. Throwing her into the pool was the appetizer. There's still a long road ahead of us.

Until she realizes she's mine.

I slip a bookmark into the psychiatry book I've been reading. Placing it on the nightstand, I return to Leighton. She's quiet as I drift my fingertips over her temple, brushing along her chapped lips.

So beautiful. I'll give her another hour or so to regain her strength.

Meanwhile, I'll take care of my other responsibilities. Of what's bothering me more than Leighton's nutrition.

Santa Barbara.

I've been really fucking careful not to leave a trail of what I've been up to at home. For years, I've made it a priority to keep anything and everything involving this house a secret.

My electronics are ones Rylan never knew existed. My laptop and cloud server aren't connected to the credit cards I have in my wallet.

But underestimating her would be a mistake. Possibly a fatal one. When provoked, there's no telling what this skilled hacker might be able to dig up. What she might find.

Without stirring the bed, I get out, grab the white T-shirt I left on one of the armchairs, and pull it over me.

Out of everything I've done, stalking Rylan is the part that hurts the most. It hurt yesterday. It hurts now.

She's obsessed with me. Territorial. She's made sure I stayed single .

That said, I can't just forget the good in her. The nights we'd stayed up late to watch movies together. Our swimming competitions. Her genuine laughs and smiles when she shared her stories with me.

What about the ones she didn't share? The ones lying dead in the garden in your backyard? Can you forget about them? About the fact that pretending they're not there landed you and Leighton in this place?

I rake my fingers through my hair on the way to the office. That was then. This is now.

Blaming myself won't help us out of this mess, and it's a big fucking mess we're in. It's up to me to clean this shit up. For the three of us.

And I will.

By keeping Rylan away until Leighton realizes she's mine. That's how I'll do it.

A few clicks on my computer open my secure connection. A few more have the CCTV app live on my screen.

Nine cameras are spread out throughout the property, and I start by watching what happened in each and every one of them since last night.

Nothing out of the ordinary, it appears. Rylan cleaned the glass she smashed against the garage wall once she found out Leighton and I were gone, then spent the rest of her day on her laptop.

What's she doing now, though?

I've returned to the live feed to watch Rylan sitting on the couch in our living room. She wears one of her favorite pink crop tops, a white pair of jeans. Her long black hair is in a bun on the top of her head.

Her laptop is propped on her lap and she's typing furiously. The angle of the CCTV camera is all wrong and I can't see what's on her screen. Not like I need to.

She's searching for clues. Searching for us .

And someone's there to help her.

Fucking Milo.

The blond kid paces back and forth on the rug in front of her. His eyes are transfixed on his cell phone, though he's not touching it. I'm willing to bet money the screen is black. That he's waiting for a sign of life from Leighton.

"Milo, seriously." Rylan looks up from her laptop, flashing him her sweet, deceiving smile. "Call off your dad's search. They're alive. I mean, checking in with every hospital in a fifty-mile radius? Talk about overkill."

"Overkill? I'm worried. How come you're not?" Milo snaps at her, and I want to break his neck. "Your dad and your best friend are missing. They might be dead, and you're here thinking that, what? They'll magically appear on your laptop?"

I bristle at the tone he's taking with her. My daughter and I have our disagreements. That doesn't make me any less protective of her. She might be volatile and lack the ability to show empathy or feel remorse.

Doesn't matter.

She's my daughter, and he's raising his voice at her.

My hands clench into fists on my work desk, my teeth grinding. If Leighton's life wasn't on the line, I'd drive over there right this minute. My hand would wrap so nicely around his throat for ever thinking it was acceptable for him to talk to Ry like that.

"Don't be silly, Milo." Rylan, who could tackle just about any man or woman alive on her own beams at him. "My dad is very much alive."

Her lips stretch wider, baring more of her teeth. A predator's smile only a rare few will be able to recognize.

Matter of fact, only one person could.

Me.

"I feel him." Her fingers swipe along the laptop keyboard. When Rylan types, she looks like a skilled pianist. "I always feel him and I'm telling you he's not dead."

"What about Leighton?" The man-child returns to pacing in his crumpled designer jeans and T-shirt. "Do you feel her?"

I size him up. He's genuinely concerned about Leighton, that idiot. He doesn't stand a chance with her.

Never have, never will.

I've had the front-row seats to this show, of her rejecting him over and over again.

A few times, they had this discussion in our kitchen. I overheard her telling him Rylan is a much better fit for him. That they will never be together.

Other days, when I'd watched them from the second floor, I hadn't heard her telling him no. I saw it. He'd come close to her whenever Ry would go into the house for whatever reason. Leighton's face would scrunch at whatever came out of Milo's mouth and she'd usually take a step back.

My Leighton .

Yet here he is, obsessed with a girl who wouldn't give him the time of day. He won't rest until he has my woman.

What makes him this persistent, though?

Maybe I'm missing something? Maybe there's more to it?

Did something happen between them in college?

They hadn't slept together, obviously. She bled for me and only me. But there are other things that the two of them could've done.

My nails dig into the skin of my palms. Fury filters into my blood.

Leighton and I will have a very interesting discussion when she wakes up. A therapy session, even. The most unethical and necessary one I ever held.

"Hmm." Rylan's voice slices through my thoughts. "Yup. Leigh-Leigh is alive."

"Leigh-Leigh?" His brow furrows. "Since when do you call her that?

She shrugs.

"Whatever. Where is she, then? Why'd she leave her phone here?" His desperation shows when he throws his hands up in the air. "What's going on that you're not telling me, Rylan?"

"Nothing. She could've gone to her parents'." Rylan shrugs after blurting out the familiar explanation. "Could've forgotten about it."

I fell for it once. When she tried to reason why my girlfriends wouldn't take my calls .

Milo wouldn't. His furrowed brow and how his hair sticks out point out his obsession. Slowly but surely, his sanity begins to slip.

I'm comforted by the knowledge that Rylan could take him out in her sleep.

"Great idea. Let's call them." He steps toward her, his tone a pitch too high. Too excited at the prospect of tracking Leighton. "You have their number, right? Call them right the fuck now."

"Calm down, Milo." After setting her laptop aside, she prowls to him. "Freaking out isn't helping anyone."

Rylan has gotten her looks from her mother, Camille. The blue eyes, the straight black hair, her tall, skinny frame. All Camille. All beautiful.

Rylan's voice, though? How she uses it to manipulate people? That shit she got from me. One thousand percent.

"Then what?" His shoulders slump. Milo's resistance fails when met with Rylan's purring voice. "Tell me what to do, Rylan."

"I have a few ideas." She flattens her palms on his chest.

Fortunately for the dumb fuck, he ignores my daughter's flirting attempts.

He wants Leighton.

Well, tough shit. He won't get to her. He won't come anywhere near Leighton ever again. I'd castrate him if he ever came close to her.

And if he tries leading my daughter on to get to Leighton, I'll take care of him.

That's one fertilizer I wouldn't mind using in our garden .

"They're brewing in my head."

"Really?" Milo nearly cries with relief. "Tell me about your idea."

I don't buy it. She's bluffing. Has to. Otherwise, she would've been here already.

"I'll have them ready by next week. Promise."

No, you won't, sweetheart.

She's talented as fuck. But even she won't find us in a week. It should take her longer.

I fucking hope so.

Milo looks straight over her head, nodding absentmindedly. "Okay."

"Milo…" She presses herself to him while he ignores her. "Would you spend the night? It's kind of scary, sleeping here alone."

"What? Oh, uh—sure." Her words finally register. Her nearness as well. He steps back, glancing behind her. "I'll crash on the couch."

"No, I mean, we could sleep together. In my bed." Rylan pouts.

That's the expression that always works for her when she wants to get something from me.

I'm her dad. I'll take a bullet for her. Do anything other than sacrifice Leighton for her.

Milo wouldn't. Completely immune to her manipulations, he walks back, putting even more space between them.

"Rylan, this isn't the time for this." He ends any and every chance for them to hook up .

One less thing to worry about as I stalk to the bedroom, eager to wake Leighton up.

He might be obsessed with her, but she doesn't belong to him.

She's mine. All fucking mine.