I’m going to be obsessing over this for the rest of my life now.
Noticing my internal crisis, Daya focuses on me, her brow pinched with concern. “You okay, girl?”
I clear my throat. “How likely is it that he can hack into my phone and find my nudes?” Her lip twitches and I’m two seconds away from smacking it off her face.
“Baby girl, that man has probably watched you get naked in your room a thousand times now.”
My eyes widen further, having not considered that yet, either.
“Oh my God.”
“Why do you ask?” Daya asks, her voice full of suspicion.
I roll my lips together, debating. At this point, the only thing holding me back from telling Daya about the texts is her impending anger.
Finally building up the courage, I rush out, “Would you be able to trace an unknown number?”
Her eyes slant. “Did he text you from one?”
Shame creeps in. I should’ve told her this sooner, but I had a weird protective need to keep the texts to myself, just like with the police officer. Now, I realize how stupid that is when Daya is one of the best hackers in the world. Or so she says, at least.
I nod sheepishly and hand her the phone, the thread already pulled up. She snatches it from my hand, shooting me a heated glare, and reads through them.
Her eyes draw back to my own, fire licking at her pupils. “You’re just now showing me these?”
I groan. “I know, I’m a stupid bitch. I just… I don’t know, Daya. I honestly don’t. Can you trace them?”
“I don’t forgive you yet, but let me see.”
I don’t worry about her anger. Daya could get bit by a snake and immediately forgive it. She’s just playing hard to get right now.
What looks like frustration settles over her face. Her lips curve down, and as the seconds pass by, her frown deepens. She leans closer to the screen, still typing a mile a second.
After a few minutes, she slaps her palms on the granite and leans back, obvious anger now on her face.
“Untraceable,” is all she says.
My anxiety resurfaces. “So, this man can hack into my security cameras, override them, and can clearly text me from an untraceable number. Which means he probably hacked my phone and got my nudes.”
She looks up at me, and I already know my answer.
“It’s possible,” she says, though her tone conveys that it’s probable.
I drop my head to my laptop, surely pressing a bunch of keys, but I don’t care right now. A creepy ass dude potentially has my nudes. Worse, he probably has video footage of me naked. I suppose it’s not the worst thing in the world to happen—my body is fabulous. But I’ll definitely be mortified if they get leaked.
What if he uses them as blackmail? Never thought I’d think this, but hopefully, he’s too obsessed with me to leak them. He’s already proven to be highly possessive. If another man can’t even touch my thigh without getting his hands cut off, then surely he wouldn’t show the world my naked body?
“Did you delete them?” I nod, my forehead grating against the keys. I cringe at the noise. If I don’t stop, my big ass head will ruin my laptop.
I lift my head, pick up Daya’s glass of vodka and pineapple juice, and start chugging. She doesn’t complain. In fact, she slides over the entire bottle of vodka.
“Don’t obsess over it. If he hasn’t said anything about them yet, then there’s a good chance he doesn’t have them.”
Her words do little to make me feel better, but I appreciate the sentiment anyway.
“Who did you even send your nudes to?” she asks, snatching the bottle of vodka from my hand after I take a hefty swig.
“I haven’t sent a nude since I was twenty. I take nudes because I like my body and want to stare at it all day.”
Daya laughs. “I fucking love you.”
Sadly, she might not be the only one.
Her phone lights up. Instinctively, my eyes flash towards the screen, but it’s her snatching it up like the phone caught fire is what draws my attention to it.
I quirk a brow, watching her glance nervously at me.
“You don’t forgive me for keeping secrets, but yet you’re doing the same thing,” I state dryly.
She deflates, now looking like a dog caught with the toilet paper in its mouth.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” she mumbles.
“About what?” I bark, holding my hand out expectantly for the phone. She groans, tucking it further into her chest.
“Luke… he’s been texting me,” she starts. My eyes widen, alarm stark in my eyes.
“Texting you about what? Just to hook up again?”
Slowly, she shakes her head. “He’s been bugging me about you and what happened that night with Arch. I told him what you told the police. That someone pounded on the door, and he went missing after that. I guess he’s trying to figure out who it could’ve been.”
“Fuck,” I curse, dropping my head in my hands.
“Apparently, Max is going on a rampage,” she admits on a sigh. “Not only did his best friend die, but the entire family. They haven’t said it, but I’m not sure they believe it was the Talaverra’s rivals that killed the family. I told Luke you have nothing to do with it. And I think he bought it.”
Words are left unsaid, so I say them for her. “For now.”
Her lips tighten in response, and I realize that my shadow has just made me some dangerous enemies.
Chapter 14
The Manipulator
D
aya put some type of block on my phone to prevent further hacking. While my brain kept circling back to the nudes, Daya’s concern was the guy having access to my phone in general. He’d be able to see all my messages, have access to my bank information, track my phone and find me wherever I go.
It seems every day, my appreciation for Daya grows. She gave me a sense of safety I didn’t realize I was missing.
I’m going to have to propose to her soon or something.
Still, I will never take another nude in my entire life, but that’s a small price to pay in the grand scheme. I’ve decided to remove the camera from my room to allow me at least some semblance of comfort. I’ll just have to hold off on walking around the house naked until something is done about this creep.
Now, if only Arch’s best friends weren’t up my asshole, then maybe I’d get an extra hour or two of sleep at night.
The rest of the day was spent in silence, both of us lost in our work.
While Daya did whatever she does, I pulled out every picture in this house and picked through them. I’ve no idea what I’m actually looking for. Maybe Gigi with another man besides my grandfather.
After an hour of looking, I realized that she tended to write the names of the people captured in the photo and the year on the back of each picture.
I searched for the name Ronaldo, but never found it.
“Halloween is coming up. We’re going to haunted houses this year, right?” Daya asks. She’s standing at my front door, about to head home for the night.
I give her a droll look. “Halloween is my entire life, Daya. Of course, we’re going to fucking haunted houses.”
For as long as I can remember, Halloween fascinated me. The creatures and creepy faces. The jump scares and impending dread that something horrific is going to happen. I’ve had an unhealthy obsession with it all.