I fucking love it when she runs.
Chapter 23
The Manipulator
“Y
ou’re going where to do what?” Daya barks through the phone. I sigh, closing my eyes in resignation. “And with who? Zade? That’s your stalker’s name?”
“Yeah.” I bite my lip. “I don’t know if I really had a choice…” I trail off. Because that’s not entirely true. Zade was going to say no to Mark. But I made him say yes. Mark has information on Gigi and supposedly has valuable information for Zade as well.
“Look, I don’t know what this man is into, Daya. But whatever it is, it’s really fucking serious. And I can say that he really did try to avoid the situation.”
“How the hell did this even happen, Addie?” Daya asks, frustration evident in her tone.
“I was working on my manuscript at Bailey’s when Zade and a fucking senator approached me, introduced himself and said he wanted to meet Zack’s girlfriend. Zade was staring at him like he wanted to murder him. And he asked me to go along with it until he could get rid of Mark. Long story short, Mark’s father was best friends with my great-grandfather, John. He said he’d tell me more if I agreed to go to the party.”
“So the man manipulated you,” Daya deadpans.
I sigh. “Pretty much,” I say, before rubbing my lips together.
Daya stays silent, and if it weren’t for her angry breathing on the other line, I’d think she hung up. Wouldn’t blame her if she did.
I am going to a party with my stalker.
All for some information that might not even help me.
“Addie, what does this man do for a living?”
I blink. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” I answer truthfully.
“He’s not Z, is he? Because that would be fucking insane, but it would also make sense.”
I frown. “What makes you think he is? Do you know a lot about that organization or something?"
Daya hesitates before she admits, "That's who I work for."
My mouth pops open.
I've heard of Z from social media and news outlets. It's a massive vigilante organization built around destroying the government. A we for the people type of org, and basically the government's public enemy number one.
I knew Daya was a vigilante of sorts, I just didn't know she did it for Z. In that case, it doesn't sound like she is aware of a connection between Mark and the organization.
And if Zade is indeed who she thinks he is, that means I'm now involved in something so much more than I thought it was, if even Daya is ignorant to it.
God, could Zade really be Z? It would explain his inexplicable ability to get past my security cameras. But more than that, it would explain him befriending and hiding his real identity from a goddamn senator. How the hell did I get so unlucky that the ultimate hacker would stalk me?
I never really stood a chance.
“I don’t know, Daya. I honestly don’t. I just… really want to solve this case. Gigi didn’t deserve what happened to her. And I think Mark might be able to give us some insight on the case.”
“Addie, I love you, but you’re crazy. There are other routes to look at, you don’t need to go to a goddamn senator’s party with a fucking stalker to get a bit of information. A stalker that might be a world-renowned hacker and vigilante.”
She’s right.
Totally valid point.
But I'd be a liar if I said going to the party tonight didn't stir something in my chest that feels sublime. The thrill. The adrenaline rush. The danger. It stirs something deep in my core, too.
It calls to me and I’m too weak to ignore it.
But that’s something that I can never explain to Daya. She’s logical. Reasonable. Smart. And she’s not an adrenaline junkie like I without a doubt am. She doesn’t get a thrill out of danger.
I should’ve been a stunt double or something.
“I know you’re going to think I’m even more insane than I already am, but at least for this occasion, I really feel like Zade will protect me. In fact, I know he will.”
It’s Daya’s turn to sigh. “Honestly, I don’t doubt that, Addie. If he is who I think he is… he’s doing some good in the world. And he’s clearly obsessed with you in a very unhealthy manner, but from the sounds of it, he’s not the typical stalker where he’s out to murder you. I think he just really, really wants to be with you and is handling it in a very creepy fucking manner.”
I laugh even though it’s not a funny situation. It’s not necessarily something to make light of, considering we don’t know if he’ll just turn around and kill me, but it makes me feel better.
"Just please keep in mind that you don't know this guy, and he might not have good intentions."
I laugh dryly. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten."
“When is this party?”
I twist my red-painted lips and give myself a slow perusal in the mirror. I’m wearing a red strapless gown, the top half encrusted with thousands of tiny diamonds throughout the lacy material. The bottom half molds to my body like a second skin with a large slit slicing all the way to mid-thigh. Diamond strappy gold heels adorn my feet, while my hair is curled into beach waves, the tendrils falling around my shoulders.
It’s both sexy and elegant.
Zade sent it to me, and the rebellious side of me almost threw it out to go and find my own damn dress. But then my imagination got away from me.
And I couldn’t stop myself from picturing the look in his eyes when he sees me wearing the dress and shoes he chose for me. I was horrified by the butterflies that were set free in my stomach with the incessant desire to bring that image to life.
“Tonight,” I say quietly, a frown tugging at my lips.
What are you doing, Addie?
Zade picks me up in a classic Mustang. The metal gleams in the moonlight, glinting off the rock in the sky as if it was built to be seen after sundown.
Shakily, I make my way down the porch steps. I wrap my long trench coat tighter around my body, partly to ward off the chill and partly to ward off the anxiety stirring in my gut.
I can’t tell if I have a bad feeling about tonight or not. What I do know is that whatever happens, I’m going to see Zade in an entirely new light and discover new things about him. Things that might make me hate him more… or less.
And the latter is what I’m scared of most.
Before I can make my way to the car, his driver’s side door is swinging open, and a suit-clad leg is stepping out.
Oxygen crystallizes in my lungs as Zade takes one last hit of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and stomping it out. Smoke billows from his mouth as he looks at me from beneath hooded eyes.
Jesus Christ.
“You shouldn’t litter,” I say hoarsely, earning a slight grin in return. He bends and picks up the cigarette butt and deposits it in his pocket.
“Sorry, baby,” he rasps. “Won’t happen again.”
I can hardly say thank you when I’m too enraptured by the dark God before me.
He’s absolutely breathtaking. And I’d like to blame the cold autumn air on the ice in my lungs, but I know better.
Zade is adorned in an all-black suit. Every single inch of the fabric stitched to the exact millimeter of his body. It fits him impeccably, molding to his muscular arms, trimmed waist, and thick thighs.