139. In the Tender of the Night

Continued...

After I removed the cross- which, I must say, was a large enough hint to not miss it- I waited for him to move. 

Any second now. Any moment.

Surely, he'd take the hint and move away from the damn tree line, right?

But he didn't.

I squinted at him through the glass door, my arms folding across my chest as irritation started bubbling up.

Is he dense or something? Doesn't look it.

Then, just when I was about to lose all hope, he finally moved. A few slow, deliberate steps forward. Not nearly enough, but still—progress.

I instinctively stepped back to my original position behind the clear window, watching him carefully and preparing by going over my speech in my head.

But then, to my absolute frustration, he stopped.

My brows furrowed. What now?

And then—honestly I had to rub my eyes to know for sure that I wasn't seeing things that weren't there because I saw him shrug.

I literally saw him shrug his shoulders like a very- normal- guy?

I blinked again.

I swear to God I saw it! ...right?

That was a goddamn shrug. A normal, human-like, completely casual shrug.

What in the actual hell is he up to now? Because as far as I am concerned, he is nowhere near an ordinary man.

He can start fires with his mind for goodness sakes! If that's any indication.

Before I could process the bizarre sight of my ominous, night-stalking tormentor pulling off a boy-next-door move, he walked the few steps backwards and rejoined his new best pal; the age old tree—like he hadn't just teased me with the possibility of cooperation before taking it right back. Like-

Oh.

Oh!

I see what he's doing right here.

The bastard isn't dense—he's the exact opposite. He's a calculating, shrewd little prick who knows exactly what I want.

He probably knew from the second he showed up and I oh-so-willingly strolled up to the window to greet him.

He knows I wouldn't just openly let him gawk at me like this—not unless I had a reason. Or just absolutely smashed with drugs and making regrettable decision.

He's been showing up here and watching me all night for two weeks now.

And has been discreetly visiting and leaving me those roses for long even before that.

By now he probably knows me *way* more than I'd like to credit him for—since, you know, all that information was gathered through very diabolical means. And not to mention 'illegal'.

In any case, he knows me—knows that if I'm standing here without my drapes drawn, waiting, then I need something from him.

And the asshole is playing hard to get.

Of course, he is.

When I didn't want him coming close, he had no problem waltzing right up to my patio like he owned the damn place.

But now? Now that I actually need him to come closer? He's suddenly developed self-restraint?

No doubt he's enjoying this very much.

I bet he's having the time of his life.

If there is anything in this world he loves; it is toying with me.

Oh yeah, I know a thing or two about this guy too. He is not the only player in this game, you know. If he watches me, I've watched him too.

Sure, I'm an unwilling player, forced into his twisted game against my will with no ending in sight where I make it out unscathed.

But that doesn't mean I'm just going to sit here looking like pretty damsel in distress while he sweeps the game right out from under me and wins by completely destroying me.

Wining against him in his own game is near impossible; especially since, I am not a creep—I'm going to make wining hard for him.

Which entails gathering what I can about him from my limited access. It's not much, but I do know a few things I can hope to exploit against him.

For one, I know he likes it when I do things willingly. He enjoys it.

Maybe it gives him some sick sense of power over me.

He's undoubtedly a control freak, and every time I do something that seems to entice him, I can feel his satisfaction radiating off him—like he's basking in the euphoria of… corrupting me.

And now?

Now, he wants me to ask him for what I want.

Or, at the very least, to show him.

No other option, huh?

Of course, he wouldn't make it easy. Of course, he'd want me to beckon him closer—like I'm somehow I desire his presence here. 

It's a give and take between us. Only the quid pro quo rule only seems to apply to me. I have to give something to get something in return from him.

Whilst him? He only takes. Like that's the only thing he knows to do.

Well, not tonight.

If he wants what he needs from me, he's going to have to give something in return.

Or so help me, God.

I huffed out a breath, forcing my rising anger into a level of manageable. Because if the first words out of my mouth when he got closer ended up being Fuck you, I couldn't imagine that would set a very agreeable tone for this conversation.

Deep breaths, Rose. In and out. Inhale, exhale. You can play nice and compliant just this one time. You're getting something out of it too.

With my irritation momentarily caged, I slowly lifted my hand.

And with one single finger—

I beckoned him towards me.

It was a small motion. Simple. Controlled.

I had tried to keep it as chaste as possible, making the movement as non-suggestive as it was in my head.

But who am I kidding, no matter how much I tried, there was just something about it. Or perhaps it is the whole idea of beckoning closer an attractive guy when there's only the two of you, in the tender of the night- 

Hold that thought- did I just call a creepy stalker attractive? 

Ugh. I swear to God, if I could gouge out his odd golden eyes for this… for planting such abominable idea in my head-

My head snapped into place as soon as I saw movement from his side. Yup, he got what he wanted; I have successfully made him walk up to me. Now let's see what happens in the next few moments. 

The moment he is within the range of the house he stops. Oh right the protection, he can't get too close to the window. 

Well, that's good to know. Besides, I can have a somewhat decent conversation from here too. I don't how it works, but somehow I know that even if he whispers something that he wants me to hear, I'd hear it.

Just like his very audible chuckle I shouldn't have been able to hear that night, but I did, loud and clear. 

And now here we go. 

I open my mouth to say something to begin the conversation and the first thing that leaves my lips before I could stop it was, "Fuck you!" 

Oops! I was still angry at him.

Oh great blew it!