Prey Drive by Jen Stevens
Chapter 30
the lamb
Fucking. Lancaster.
As in, the CEO of Lancaster Tech.
As in my new boss.
If he wasn’t holding me against his chest, I would have fallen to the ground in pure shock. None of this makes any sense. It’s like, while I’ve been denying his entire existence, he’s been burrowing his way into my life until he consumes it completely.
My home. My job. My privacy.
He owns it all, and I’ve given it away willingly.
“Why?” I repeat the same stupid question.
Does it matter why? This guy is obviously out of his goddamn mind and fixated on me for some ungodly reason.
“I like you,” he says simply, as if that’s enough of an explanation.
“You like me?” I repeat incredulously.
This is not the conversation I planned on having with him tonight. I wanted to ask about the woman he was eating dinner with right in front of me. The one he ditched to follow me into the bathroom. I wanted to know how he came about buying my house after that first night. I was going to demand that he explain how he got into my home and knew my schedule so intimately.
I never expected that his obsession would go so deep.
“Yes, and don’t say it like you can’t believe anyone could ever like you, Stardust–”
“Stop calling me that,” I insist, cutting him off.
Sighing, he looks over my head as if he has no idea what to do with me, and then relents with a stiff, “Fine.”
“I need space,” I demand, pushing against him in a panic.
He’s smothering me. This is all too much to take in. He’s bled into my life like a cancer, aggressive and impossible to cure. I’m suffocating on the man I had myself convinced was just a dark part of my imagination mere hours ago.
Bash backs away, albeit hesitantly.
“Don’t run. I’ll catch you,” he warns in a deep, menacing voice.
What the hell does that mean?I don’t even have the mental capacity to dissect those words right now. Or the thrill that spikes in the back of my mind and the urge to try it and see for myself.
“Ask me what you want to know,” he says more softly.
“I’ve already asked, and you refuse to answer.”
“Ask again.”
“No more games?”
He raises his brows as if to say yes, not bothering to actually say it.
I can’t help but feel like it’s a methodical move. Like he knows what I'll try to use against him later. Everything he does is so calculated, and he's gotten so good at anticipating my moves.
I'm way in over my head.
Still, I have to try. I take a second to think about what to say. At this point, there’s so many questions, I can’t narrow it down to just one. But I figure a good starting point is, “What the hell do you want from me?”
Shaking his head, he leans against the wall. “It’s not that simple.”
“You told me to ask, and now you’re refusing to answer again.”
“That’s a complicated question. I don’t fucking know what I want from you—that’s your appeal. The answer changes constantly.”
“Why me?” I try again.
“Because you happened to be here.”
“I responded to an ad about this house. Are you telling me that was all coincidental?”
He crosses his arms. “On my end, yes.”
“What does that mean? Who else’s end is there?”
“My father’s.”
He’s got to be kidding me. “What does your father want from me?”
Bash shrugs, as if this is such a casual conversation to have. Not one where I’m trying to find answers as to why a billionaire even has me on his radar at all, let alone stalking me.
“I don’t know,” he admits.
I swallow down my emotion, temporarily allowing myself to take a break from that topic to ask the question I really want the answer to, despite how stupid it may be.
“Who was the woman you were with?”
“Were you jealous?”
There’s no teasing in his tone, which throws me off a bit, because the question seems like one he would use to humiliate me. Instead, he seems genuinely concerned.
“No,” I lie, but he sees right through it.
“She’s no one now. A casual hookup. A means to an end. She broke it off at dinner tonight.”
“And before? Were you cheating on her when you…?” I let the question trail off, too embarrassed to admit what happened between us on those nights I had no idea who or what he was.
“No. It was never cheating.”
Relief washes through me and my traitorous heart leaps in my chest. Such a ridiculous thought. This man has all but admitted to obsessively stalking me, and I’m relieved that he’s at least single while he does it.
“Are you done asking questions?” he asks, amusement dancing in his light eyes.
My head tilts to the side as I allow myself to take in all his features without the mask again. I was too afraid at the restaurant, and too angry when I first arrived home. Now, it's like I'm seeing him for the first time.
I was right before. His full lips and dark stubble match the symmetry of his eyes better than I expected. Just standing there, he exudes power. It's impossible not to get swept away in his appearance or masculine energy.
But I have to stop myself from thinking that way. This man is a predator. Just as a wolf or a lion can be beautiful to look at, they'll still rip you to shreds the second they get the chance. The moment you get too close. And I can tell that's exactly what he wants to do when my gaze lifts back to his eyes and sees how much they've darkened as he watches me take him in.
Pulling my lip from between my teeth, I finally answer.
“No.” I'm not done asking questions, but his expression tells me he doesn’t give a damn.