Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Poppy

"You're cute when you're upset." I grin and pat down Julian's tie, taking my time to feel the silk under my fingertips.

"I hate this," he whispers. "I hate that I can't just take you away."

My exhale is slow and steady, unlike my emotions. "You're the CEO. You can't miss this meeting."

He cups my cheek, "Maybe I should just quit then. My jet can be ready within the hour."

I snort, "Now you sound more like Kent."

His lips tug up, "Yeah. You're right."

I have a meeting with one of his uncle's men; it's going to be short and sweet. All I have to do is describe the phony maintenance man and what happened. Julian has a meeting with the board he cannot miss, and as sweet as his longing to be by my side is, I don't want our relationship to interfere with our jobs.

He has to present the final contract and guidelines for Sterling Defense's third-biggest contract to the board. Currently, they dominate the US market, but thanks to Kent, there's interest from the UK in their products. This opportunity is monumental—an international expansion. For Julian to miss a board meeting that's set to discuss this very deal could be misinterpreted as a lack of commitment or, worse, suggest there are issues within the company that are being hidden, like the issue of a crazy Russian blackmailing him. Julian needs to present a strong, sexy, confident face to the board. Ok, maybe not sexy, but it does help.

It's a major moment, one we should celebrate. Actually… "After today, let's go out and celebrate. We could all use an adult-ish drink."

"I don't know,"

I tug at his tie, "It's that, or you suffer the taste of my microwaved steak. Trust me, your jaw is going to be sore."

That gets me a grin; even if it doesn't reach his eyes, I'll take it as a win.

"Ok," he leans down and kisses me quickly. HR knows about our relationship, but at work, we keep it hands-off unless we're in his office alone. It's not because we're shy; it's more for the reason that when he starts to touch me, I don't want him to stop. "We'll go out." He agrees.

With one final squeeze of his hand, I watch him stride towards the door, every inch the leader he is. We've both got our own dragons to slay today, but there's comfort in knowing we're fighting them together.

***

One hour into this interrogation—okay, not an interrogation, but it sure feels like it—and I'm mentally kicking myself for not investing in industrial-strength deodorant. Seriously, why am I sweating like I'm the one on trial here?

Oh, right. The six pairs of eyes boring into me across the stark, impersonal boardroom table—that's why. The room's too chilly, yet here I am, sweating. Go figure.

"Can you all maybe not stare at me like that? You're cranking up my anxiety levels," I snap, more out of discomfort than actual annoyance.

Harper and Kent decided to crash my little pow-wow with Tomas, who's here on behalf of Julian's uncle. Tomas's mission? To extract from my memory a detailed description of the maintenance guy who thought my apartment was his personal playground.

When Harper first barged in with Kent, I was comforted. Sure, I told Julian I could handle it, but my sweaty armpits beg to differ. Yet, Harper's 'game face' has me feeling less comforted and more like I'm the last pick for dodgeball. And just for the record, I'm as far from an athlete as you can get, so yeah, the pressure? Not a fan.

"Let's give this another go," Tomas suggests, casting a weary glance at Kent and Harper. "Just walk me through what you remember. Anything at all. Eye color, hair, skin tone, tattoos, scars?"

I begin to fiddle with the cardboard sleeve of my now-cold latte, trying to summon details from the haze of that day. "Well, he was definitely male. His face kind of round—no, not like a perfect circle, more oval, I guess," I ramble. My heart is racing so loud I'm surprised it's not echoing off the walls."He had a hat on, so judging from what I could see of his face, I think I would go with an oval-shaped face."

Tomas doesn't nod or smile or give me a damn bone. So, I continue to blabber on. "He had eyes."

"What did they look like? The shape or color would help." Tomas presses.

"They were round, like ovals." Oh god, I've said oval three times now. "His eyes were the shape of eyes," I stress, feeling the immense pressure of failure on my shoulders. I didn't think it would be this hard to describe someone, but Harper and Kent are glaring at me like overzealous parents at a sporting event.

"The color?" I have no idea! "Uh, there were definitely two of them. Maybe darkish in tone. I didn't get a good look. He had a nose in the middle of his face," I point to mine, touching the tip. "His lips were…there." I circle a finger around my own.

His lips were there! Jesus, Poppy, is that the best you could do?

Kent can't help but snicker at this point. I can't say I blame him.

I can't think when I'm this nervous.

"So, he was a human? Two eyes, a nose, mouth, lips, and a somewhat round head?" Harper interjects, her patience thinning. "Poppy, focus. This guy was in your apartment."

I tighten my grip on the latte cup, feeling a mix of anger and frustration—not at Harper, but at the situation. It's fear, really. Fear of what could've happened had I walked in on that guy. Harper's already run through every worst-case scenario in her head, I'm sure. Her anger isn't at me; it's borne out of love and a fierce protective streak.

Tomas, probably sensing the tension spiraling, sets down his pen. "Maybe it's best if I talk to Poppy alone," he suggests, diplomatic as ever.

Kent leans back, all casual defiance, "And miss this riveting description? No chance. What's next, Poppy? He had five fingers on each hand and walked on two feet?" His laughter fills the room, easing the tension, if only for a moment.

I clench my jaw, meeting Tomas's gaze. "I was just trying to be thorough," I mumble, then smack my palm to my forehead. Did I really just describe basic human features as if they were clues?

"This isn't a test, Poppy," Harper says, her voice finally softening. "Just talk to us like it's just me in the room. What did he look like?"

Okay, just Harper and me. I can do that. I blabber on for the next ten minutes, offering up the snippets of memory I can grasp. It doesn't feel helpful, but Tomas's nods are encouraging. Nods are good, right?

Then I remember the cameras. "The entrance to the apartment has cameras. Maybe they caught something useful?"

Tomas nods, but there's a stiffness to it now, a glance exchanged with Kent that doesn't sit right with me. "You did great, Poppy," Tomas assures, but his sudden rush to leave makes me feel like I've missed something major. "My boss is actually on the way here. He will take over when Julian is out of his meeting."

His boss, as in Julian's uncle. Is that good or bad?

I look down at what I'm wearing. It's business casual: dark jeans with a tan blazer and a baby pink blouse. Okay, I look the part, but... I feel like my red face and sweaty pits betray me.

Another exchange between Tomas and Kent has me teetering on the edge.

"Okay, what's he not telling me?" I demand, catching the wary look Harper shoots Kent.

Kent sighs a hint of resignation in his voice. "Well, my uncle just let Julian and me know the camera feed from your apartment was wiped clean. But hey, the description of the man with a round head, two eyes, a nose, and a mouth? Stellar start." He tries to laugh it off, but the joke lands flat.

"Wiped?" Panic floods through me. "You can fix that, right, Harper? Tell me you can ‘un-wipe' it."

"Kent and I discovered a few things. Daniel's men wanted to update you on what they found. We're just waiting for Julian to finish his meeting before we tell you everything. We'll get to the bottom of it." Harper announces, her ocean-blue eyes dodging mine like they're harboring tsunamis of secrets beneath their calm surface.

I thought this meeting would resolve the issue, but it seems to have opened a can of worms.

I fix Harper with a pointed look, my arms crossing defiantly. "Feels like you're in the loop on something that's flown way over my head."

"I usually am," she shoots back, a flicker of mischief lighting up her gaze, though it's shadowed by a seriousness that suggests this is no time for jokes.

"Harper," I lean in, "Is Julian in danger?"

"No," she assures me, her confidence briefly disarming my anxiety.

But then, my shoulders hunch up, bracing for news I'm unsure I want to hear. "What's going on then?"

Kent's hand discreetly finds its way under the table. I don't need to look to know he's reaching for Harper's hand, a silent pillar of support.

Harper clears her throat. "I stumbled upon something on your laptop. Piecing it together with what Daniel's team uncovered at your place, we're starting to think this latest drama might not have something to do with Julian."

"Um, okay," I reply, my patience thinning. "Can someone please start explaining in plain English? Let's use our ABCs because I'm not following any of this." My hiss is sharper than intended, my gaze darting down to my watch. Julian's meeting should have ended ten minutes ago. Where is he?

Harper holds my gaze, her voice steady. "I found something unsettling on your laptop, Poppy."

"Go on..."

"While migrating your data to the new laptop, I ran a routine spyware check."

I nod, my heart rate quickening. "I've been careful about what I click, I swear. I remember the scams you told me about."

The sad smile she flashes me makes it feel like my heart is sweaty now. Is that even possible?

"Someone has been spying on you, Poppy." Harper blurts out. "They used your camera. They recorded you," she whispers the last part.

Chills run up and down my flesh. I hear what she says, but it takes long to sink in. It's like my mind forgets the definition of some of her words.

"My camera?" The words taste like acid. For a moment, the room feels like it's tilting, the walls closing in on me. Someone was watching me through my camera! I grip the chair, fighting the bile rising in my throat, my heart pounding like a drum in my ears. My hands tremble uncontrollably, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.

"Well, my laptop isn't always open, so…" My lungs feel on fire, every breath a struggle. "He never saw me… naked, right?" I whisper the last word, my voice barely audible, laced with desperation.

Harper is silent—she is never silent. A heavy, suffocating silence hangs between us, her usual comforting presence now void of uncertainty.

"Harper!" I press my voice breaking, panic rising with every passing second.

She looks down, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world rests on them. "There are other cameras," she admits defeatedly, her voice a mere whisper.

My inhale is sharp, like a knife stabbing me in the back. Panic surges through me, cold and relentless. Standing up on shaky legs, then begin to pace the room, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. "Well, it hasn't been long. He didn't see me much."

The truth I won't dare voice out loud is that I feel violated again, a deep, searing violation that cuts to my core. My pacing stops abruptly, and I suddenly feel paralyzed, my strength draining away. My vision blurs as I barely make it back to the chair, crashing into it, trying to mask the fact that my knees have given out completely. The room spins, my world unraveling, as I sit there, feeling utterly exposed and helpless.

"The spyware's been lurking for years, Poppy," Harper explains, now beside me. When did she move? "That's why we're doubting it's got anything to do with Julian."

"But the maintenance guy!" I exclaim, feeling like a broken record, clinging to the only lifeline I have, though it seems this particular lifeboat is riddled with holes, threatening to sink under the weight of unfolding revelations.

"We're not sure if he's tied to the Russians, but that's looking less likely. This could be about something—or someone—else entirely. They found more cameras just installed in your apartment, Poppy." Harper confesses; the fear in her voice makes me begin to shake.

"What in the world does that mean?"

"I'll get to the bottom of it," Harper vows, her determination shining like a lighthouse in a storm, but I feel too far away to swim toward the light.

The doors burst open as Julian enters the chaotic scene. "I told you to wait for me," he glares at Kent, his concern evident as he meets my gaze. "My uncle just told me about the cameras they found in the sprinkler heads," he says, his voice filled with concern and urgency.

Oh my god! Now I understand. "So it was the maintenance man. He put cameras in the sprinkler heads to watch me."

"Yes," Harper replies, her voice solemn.

"Why?" I ask in utter disbelief, the word barely escaping my lips.

No one replies. Instead, all their eyes are on me, waiting for me to give them a clue, a direction, something to anchor their worries to.

I'm so numb I can only repeat what I just found out. "They found cameras in my apartment," I echo back to Julian, my voice drenched in a mixture of daze and confusion, mirroring the whirlpool of emotions churning inside me. The reality of the violation sinks in, the weight of their silent concern pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.

Julian comes to my side in three fast strides, kneeling down next to my chair. "I'll fix this," he asserts as if those three words alone could mend the shattered pieces of security and privacy that have been stripped away from me.

Feeling like the last piece in a jigsaw puzzle that everyone else has been working on without me, my frustration boils over. "Why does it feel like I'm always the last to know anything, especially when it's my life that's up for discussion!" I explode, anger and fear colliding within me.

Someone has been watching me!

I hug myself. The revelation transports me back to a day I've tried to forget—the day we buried Peter, and the day Andrew voiced his threats. A reminder of a nightmare I thought I had escaped.

Andrew.

It's him. Every fiber of my being screams the truth I've been too scared to acknowledge. Andrew didn't just disappear; he's been lurking in the background, watching me through the lens of my camera, ensuring I remain silent about the horrors of that party night.

It's him.

Harper is right; this has nothing to do with Julian.

Vomit curls up my throat in violent chunks. I can't contain it. It plasters the boardroom table exorcist style. I have no control.

I never did.

My new life and a new chapter were just a fairy tale. All along, the monster has been monitoring me, watching me.

More dots connect. I moved, which meant my new apartment didn't have cameras in it, so Andrew must have sent that fake maintenance to install them.

Oh fuck I'm so stupid! Replacing the sprinklers! Why didn't I see how ridiculous that sounded? It gave him the perfect excuse to go into each room and hide a camera.

This also means that Andrew must have had cameras inside my old home!

More vomit comes; it's not surprising now. I close my eyes and shut my ears off to the people who are talking to me, trying to console and help me.

What the hell am I going to tell them? How am I going to cover up this lie that has infected every part of my life?

I thought I could run and start a new chapter, but you see, you can't start a new chapter until you end the last one, and it seems I'm still stuck with Andrew haunting my life.