As Long As She Is Mine

Chapter Seven 

The Writer~

Mimi Volkov, the rising heiress of one of the biggest entertainment agencies in America. The details were discovered after her father died two years ago, which shook all. No, her father's death didn't shock all, what shook everyone was his will. Everything he had, he passed it down to Mimi. Even the company. 

Everyone expected her mother or her older brother to be the one to inherit the company after his death. But it seems like Branden Volkov had some other plans. 

Mimi has a fiance, Jesper Rivers. He is her stepbrother. Mimi's mother married Jasper's father two months after Branden's death. The public knows that Mimi and Jasper love each other and their parents have accepted it. 

Which is bullshit. Because my Mimi doesn't wear any engagement ring. And she never talked about that Jesper fucking River in front of her friends at the bar. It is a scheme, directed by her mother and her stepfather. Maybe Jesper is also involved. 

Who cares? As long as she is mine.

These are the details you'd pick up after stalking her for four sleepless days. 

Mimi Volkov has a stalker and Kyler Ashford is the stalker. 

It takes all of me to prevent my lips from curving upward and forming into a smirk. She looks so innocent and so oblivious to the detail that we are sitting before each other isn't her 'coincidence' but my 'plan'. 

"What were you doing?" She asks, inclining her head toward my bag which I just tucked my notebook into. 

"Ah, that…" My eyes drift to the backpack resting beside me, "I was noting an idea that I just got." The names of the people you interacted with today. 

"Why?" She is a curious little muse, isn't she? 

"I am a writer, so ideas are as important as breathing." I chuckle softly, as I run my finger over the rim of my tea cup. It's still hot. I wonder if I dip my finger in there how bad it will hurt. 

There is a pause. But it doesn't last for too long. Mimi breaks it. And I love it. I wouldn't mind staring at her silently either. The way she looks at me, the way she walks, breathes, and talks are alone to drive me out of my mind and my heart beats out of my chest. I wonder how touching her would feel like. 

"Wait, wait, wait a damn minute." Her hands shoot out before her, palms out, "You are telling me you are the Kyler Ashford?!" There is so much surprise in her dark doe eyes that it wants me to pinch her cheeks until they are red. I wonder how soft they are. 

"There aren't many Kyler Ashford in this world, you know." I can't help but chuckle again. 

"So you are Kyler the writer, huh? The best-selling one at that." Her surprise is settling in and amusement is bubbling to the surface. "I have read your books, you know. And I am in love with them." 

So be in love with the author as well, please. 

"Thanks." A soft blush creeps onto my cheek before it's gone. I know she is telling the truth. She actually likes what I write. And I love that she reads what I write. "So you are not into dark romance?" I take a sip of my tea. I don't write in that genre. Not that I hate it or anything, I just don't want to let people look into my soul and recognize what I actually am. 

"Not really." She shrugs her shoulders, "I actually find that quite a bit attractive.." 

"Right." I nod my head in acknowledgment, "What else do you like?" She is a book girl. Or she is scrolling through her reels in her free time or flipping through the pages of her book. 

"I like Colleen Hoover." She slurps at her americano and my eyes drop to how her lips wrap around the material, "She is a great writer." This is her second one. She had already finished her first one. And I too already have my second cup of tea. 

I am not listening to her anymore. All my mind can process is how her lips would feel like against mine. "I like her as well." I manage to reply. 

She checks her wrist watch and realization dawns on her, "Hey, I need to go now." She grabs her purse and slides out of her seat, slinging her jacket over her shoulders. 

"I didn't realize that we spent this much time together." I get up as well, grabbing my backpack. 

"Me too." She smiles and I want to rip my heart out of my ribcage and give it in her hands. 

She exits the coffee shop and I follow behind her. I am not a cafe person. But she is and I am willing to go down to hell if it means that I get to be with her. And I don't think that the task is too difficult. At least not as much as to restrain myself from barging inside her house when she is showering or sleeping. I'd dropped a micro camera on her coat the other day, to see her movements. And unfortunately, she had washed yesterday, so I have nothing on her now. 

She unlocks the door of her shiny car and I open the door for her before she can, "Is there any chance we will meet again?" 

She places her hand over the car door and a contemplating look crosses her face, "I don't think so. But anyway, thank you for the good time." She offers me a wide smile and gets inside the car. I shut the door. She drives away. 

I watch her taillights fade into the distance before sliding into my Mustang. My fingers drum against the wheel. She is too close. Not yet. Can't get caught. 

She thinks this is goodbye. But not yet. Not ever.