Chapter 8: Stalkers

Cesare’s Point of view~~~

I didn't leave immediately. I had a personal business to deal with and it involved Rosette. Well, everything about me involves her.

I leaned back in the leather seat of my car, one arm resting on the steering wheel, the other idly tapping against my thigh.

My eyes never left the front entrance until she appeared.

Even under the soft glow of the lamps outside, she managed to look like something out of a dream.

She stepped out of the building, her head held high as if the entire evening hadn’t been a battlefield for her.

My gaze followed her hand as she brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.

She moved slowly, adjusting her shades even though the night sky didn’t need them. She didn't want to be seen or recognised by anyone.

Her dainty fingers clutched a gold glass purse close to her body, and the slit in her dress slid open as she walked, revealing slender, perfect legs.

I had to bite back a smile.

Even when she pretended to be composed, her body betrayed her. Her shoulders tensed up, she controlled her breathing and every movement felt calculated.

The man in the grey tailored suit—the same one who escorted her earlier—stepped forward to guide her.

He opened the door of a midnight-blue Mercedes-Maybach. Classy choice. She deserved nothing less.

I watched her climb into the car, her dress slid slightly as she bent her knees and gripped the door for balance.

I took in everything like I’d lose my sight if I looked away for even a second.

I remembered her expression earlier when she realised that I knew who she was. The truth is, I’ve always known you, Rose.

Well, not immediately. But I was too obsessed. Too interested to leave her alone.

So, I followed her. At first, it was curiosity—she was too polished, too refined for the “poor girl” act she put on.

No one else questioned it, not even Blake, but I did. I stalked her, quietly and secretly. And I found everything.

I knew her mother died in a car accident when she was barely a teenager. I knew she was allergic to pollen—touching flowers gave her hives. I knew about the scar on her neck, hidden under that glorious mane of hair, a mark from the same accident that took her mother’s life.

And I knew the darkest truth of all—

She was Blake’s mistress. For years.

She was broken long before today. And I knew every piece of her that shattered.

The Mercedes door shut with a muted thud, snapping me back to the present.

The man in the suit locked the door after ensuring she was settled, then signaled the driver. The car pulled away smoothly into the night.

I waited a few seconds before my guest arrived.

A black Range Rover Velar slid out from a side street and trailed the Mercedes. Secretly, but not secretive enough.

I smirked. “Got you.”

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as I started my car and followed suit.

Rosette's car, the Range rover and mine moved into the main road in a single line.

I kept enough distance though, not to alert the Range Rover’s driver. But I stayed close enough to keep them in sight.

Then, when the timing was right, I accelerated, overtaking the Range Rover and cutting quickly in front of it.

The screech of tires ripped through the air.

The Range Rover slammed into the back of my car with a dull crunch and the jam pulled me forward resulting in a collision of my head and the steering wheel.

I raised my head high enough to watch the Mercedes that Rosette was in, driving further ahead then disappearing around a bend.

She was safe now.

I stepped out of my car, unhurried.

The driver of the Range Rover threw his door open, storming toward me with his face twisted with anger.

“Are you insane?! Who on earth stops in the middle of— ”

Then he froze as his gaze fell on my face.

His eyes flicked to my forehead, where I felt warm blood trickling from where I’d hit the steering wheel on impact.

“Hey, you’re bleeding,” he said as his anger faltered.

I didn’t care. Instead, I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back against his car.

He struggled, swearing, but I was stronger and in a terribly bad mood.

“Who sent you?” I growled, pushing him against the door.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he stammered as he tried to twist free.

Wrong answer.

I slammed him against the car again. The metal groaned under the force. “Try again.”

But he kept fighting to set himself free. I punched him in the gut, hard enough to knock the air out of him. His knees buckled.

Then I dragged him towards my car with one hand. “Get in the car.”

“Wait, man, I—”

I grabbed his arm and shoved him into the back seat. When he resisted, I landed another blow to his ribs until he stopped struggling.

Then I pulled a zip tie from my glove compartment, always prepared, and tied his wrists together before pushing him onto the seat.

“You’ve just made the worst mistake of your life,” I muttered as I got behind the wheel.

My car’s engine roared to life again and I drove off.

Soon, the city's bright lights faded into the quiet darkness of the countryside. Finally, I turned into a secluded road leading to a massive iron gate.

I pressed a button on my phone, and the gates opened slowly, revealing my mansion—a towering modern structure with smaller and plainer houses beside it.

I parked in front of one of the smaller houses, dragged the man out, and shoved him inside.

The room was bare except for a wooden chair, a table, a fridge in the corner and a large shelf where tools were kept.

I dumped him onto the floor, opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of iced water. Without a word, I poured it over his head.

The man jerked awake with a gasp, shivering as water dripped down his face.

“P-please,” he stuttered immediately, his eyes wide with panic.

“I don’t know what I’ve done, but please, don’t kill me! I—I have a wife and kids at home, I swear—”

I tilted my head, amused.

“First of all, Charles… you’ve got no wife or kids.”

His eyes widened in shock. He must wonder how I knew his name.

“Secondly, I've been watching you for a while so I need nothing but the truth,” I continued, pulling the chair forward and sitting down in front of him.

“Who the fuck sent you to follow her?”