8. A Kiss and a Warning

Lena

Returning home is the only thing I was looking forward to. The night is quiet, but my heart is anything but.

I press my palms flat against the cool windowpane, trying to calm my racing pulse as I stare out into the dark street below. The neighborhood looks the same as it always does—dim streetlamps humming, an occasional car rolling past—but my eyes snag on the silhouette across the street. A man. Still. Watching.

My blood turns to ice.

It isn’t the first time I’ve felt his presence. Sometimes it’s a shadow outside the grocery store, sometimes the hairs on my neck prickle when I walk to my car after work. Tonight it’s undeniable. He’s standing there, exactly where the glow of the streetlight doesn’t quite reach, his body a shape carved from darkness. His stillness unnerves me more than anything—like he has all the time in the world to just…wait.

I yank the curtain shut and step back, my breath shallow. I can’t do this. I can’t keep pretending I don’t notice.

My phone lies on the table, but my hand hovers over it uselessly. Call the police? And say what? Is that a stranger standing outside? He hasn’t done anything yet. No broken windows, no threatening letters—at least not tonight.

The silence presses heavily against me. Until the doorbell rings. The sharp chime jolts me so hard I nearly drop my phone. I freeze. Every instinct screams at me not to move, not to breathe, not to give away that I’m home. But the bell rings again—slower this time, more deliberate.

Whoever is outside knows I’m here.

Heart pounding, I tiptoe through the hallway toward the door, my body taut with dread. I press my ear to the wood, listening for any sound beyond it. Nothing. Just the faint hum of the night. With trembling hands, I slide the chain lock into place and turn the handle an inch, peeking through the crack.

Relief and confusion clash inside me. It isn’t the stalker.

It’s Aaron King. My boss.

I blink rapidly, as if my mind is playing tricks. He’s standing on my doorstep, immaculate as ever despite the late hour, his shirt crisp, his dark eyes glinting in the dim porch light.

“Ms Lena,” he says evenly, though there’s something unreadable behind his voice. “May I come in?” I hesitate. Every nerve in me screams danger, but not the kind I expected. Because even though I know Aaron, even though he signs my paychecks and commands a room like no one else—something about him standing at my door this late makes unease curl in my stomach.

And worse…a chilling thought worms its way into my mind.

What if the stalker is him?

The resemblance—the way I always feel watched, the timing, the fact that he is suddenly here—it makes my blood run cold.

Still, I step aside, opening the door wider. “Mr. King… it’s late. What are you doing here?” His gaze slides over me once, slow, deliberate. Only then do I realize what I’m wearing.

A thin cami clings to me, the neckline plunging far lower than I’d ever wear around him in the office. My shorts barely cover my thighs. Heat rushes to my face when his eyes linger a moment too long before flicking back to my face.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Aaron says smoothly, stepping inside as though my hesitation never existed. “But you left an important file in the office. You’ll need it before tomorrow’s meeting. I thought it best to deliver it myself.”

His tone is polite, professional even, but his presence feels anything but casual.

I shut the door, pressing my back to it as if I can keep the outside world—and the shadow of the man I saw—from seeping in. “You… you could have given it to me tomorrow morning,” I say, my voice unsteady.

Aaron studies me for a moment, then smiles faintly. “Would you rather walk into the meeting unprepared? I didn’t think so.” He places the file neatly on the table like it’s the most important thing in the room.

The silence stretches uncomfortably. My nerves itch under his scrutiny.

“Would you like something? Tea, maybe?” I blurt, desperate to break the tension. “Tea?” He tilts his head, amused. “No. Something stronger. A drink perhaps.”

My breath catches, but I nod quickly. “Alright. I—I’ll get you something.” I busy myself in the kitchen, pouring whiskey into two glasses, my hands trembling. I can feel his eyes on me even from the other room, as if he’s dissecting every movement, every breath.

When I hand him the glass, his fingers brush mine—intentional or not, I can’t tell. The moment lingers.

Hours slip by. He sits comfortably in my living room, legs crossed, asking me casual questions about work, about my apartment, about living alone. I answer each one cautiously, the way a rabbit might answer the wolf if it spoke. My nerves fray with every tick of the clock. Two hours.

He’s been here two whole hours. And still, he shows no sign of leaving.

The air feels heavier. Suffocating. My body is taut, caught between wanting to scream at him to get out and knowing I can’t. He’s my boss. My career is in his hands.

I carry the empty glasses to the kitchen sink, trying to put some space between us. My fingers ache from gripping the glass too tightly. I just need him to leave. But when I turn, he’s there.

I gasp and stumble backward, my foot catching on the edge of the rug. For a moment, I’m weightless, falling—until strong hands catch me by the waist. My breath lodges in my throat.

Aaron’s face is inches from mine. His eyes hold mine, dark and intent, and for a suspended second, the world stills. And then he kisses me.

The press of his lips is sudden, firm, and it paralyzes me. My body goes rigid even as my pulse roars. I should pull away, scream, push him back—yet I freeze. The kiss doesn’t last long. I break it, shoving at his chest, my breath ragged.

“I—” My words cut off when the lights above flicker violently, plunging us into near darkness for a split second. My heart lurches.

The stalker. He’s here.

I shove Aaron back further, panic overriding everything. “Don’t.” My voice is sharp, desperate. Aaron frowns, his jaw tightening. “Relax, it’s just the lights. Is there something you need to tell me?”

I shake my head too quickly. “No. Nothing. Nothing at all.” Before he can press further, my phone buzzes on the counter. The sound cuts through the charged silence like a blade.

I snatch it up, my hand shaking. Aaron is still watching me, his presence filling every corner of my home, but I force a brittle smile. “It’s late. You should go.”

He doesn’t argue, but his eyes linger on me as he finally collects his coat and file. For a moment, I think he’ll refuse to leave, but at last, he steps out the door. The moment it shuts, I sag against it, my body trembling.

Only then do I glance at my phone screen. One new message. My stomach drops as I open it.

“Did you enjoy his kiss? You’ll pay for betraying me. Soon.”

The room spins around me. My grip on the phone tightens until my knuckles ache. The stalker was watching. Watching everything. And he knows.

I rush to the window the moment the door closes behind Aaron, my bare feet almost slipping on the floor. My chest heaves as I push the curtain aside, desperate for some reassurance. Through the glass, I see him sliding into his sleek black car, his movements calm, composed, as if tonight were nothing more than business. But then my gaze drifts further down the street, and my breath hitches.

My stalker is standing unnervingly still beside the tree at the end of the street, half swallowed by darkness. His posture is patient, deliberate, as though he has all the time in the world to watch. To wait. My hands tremble as I grip the curtain tighter, the thin fabric crumpling in my fists. I don’t dare move. I don’t dare blink.

The sharp vibration of my phone slices through the silence. I tear my eyes from the window and glance down. Another message.

‘He might soon be dead.’

My stomach twists, icy terror flooding my veins. My breath stutters as I look back outside. Aaron’s car glides smoothly away, the headlights vanishing into the distance. He has no idea. No idea that someone out there—someone watching right now—is planning his death.

But the shadow doesn’t move. He stays rooted to that same spot, his head tilted ever so slightly toward my house, as though savoring my fear. Watching me. Knowing I can see him.

My throat dries, and my body locks in place. The street is empty but for him. Aaron is gone, but the danger hasn’t left with him. It’s here. Standing outside. Waiting for me.

And suddenly, I’m certain—this isn’t just about me anymore.