Chapter 9: COPS AND ROBBERS

Arianna

Someone is watching me.

That’s the first feeling that claws at my senses when I peel my eyes open far too late into the morning. Sleep had been a fickle friend after the coffee shop incident. Charles and his zip ties haunted my dreams, a relentless chase through a never-ending parking lot. His eyes, wide and crazed, followed me, tripped me, until I stumbled and, unbelievably, fell right into the arms of… him. My stalker. And then, blessed oblivion.

Even before my eyes fully adjusted, a chilling awareness seeped into me. This wasn’t Vincent merely watching from afar. This was different. Intimate. Possessive.

Blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, the truth solidified. I wasn’t alone. There he was. Vincent. Enthroned in my old rocking chair, elbows resting on his knees, those unnerving, golden eyes were laser-focused on me.

Something was… off.

He was wearing a uniform of sorts. Dark fabric, almost a tactical look. A bulletproof vest covered part of it, and beneath it, a glint of metal. A badge. Not the familiar blue and gold of local police, no. This was different. Sleeker, darker. Private security? Or worse, some clandestine agency I couldn’t even begin to imagine. A detective, maybe, but of a breed I’d never encountered.

Was this some twisted game to him? Cops and robbers, with me cast as the terrified, fleeing criminal? My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the suffocating silence of my room.

The moment he registered my awakening, the shift was instantaneous. His face, moments ago an intimidating mask of predatory focus, melted into a grin. A dazzling, almost blinding smile that illuminated his features, transforming him from some lurking shadow into… something else entirely. Something dangerously appealing. A devil draped in sunshine. And why, oh god, why, did my heart lurch at the sight of it?

Reason screamed at me. Fear should be my only companion right now. He’d broken into my home, violated my sanctuary. He was stalking me, his presence a suffocating weight. He’d admitted to killing, confessed to ending Charles’ life with chilling nonchalance.

Run. That single, desperate command echoed in my brain. Run as far and as fast as your legs could carry you.

“Good morning, baby,” his voice, a low rumble, broke the spell of my terrified paralysis. He unfolded from the rocking chair, a slow, deliberate movement that showcased the sheer power coiled within him. He moved towards my bed, a sleek panther stalking its prey, and I, the trembling rabbit caught in its gaze.

“Why are you here?” My voice, meant to be sharp, to be defiant, emerged as a weak tremor. I instinctively scooted backward, clutching the blanket like a shield, the tremor in my voice betraying the frantic storm raging within.

A soft meow sliced through the tension. Millie, my feline shadow, sauntered into the room, tail held high, oblivious to the charged atmosphere. Normally, she’d eye strangers with suspicion, a furry, four-legged judge. I waited, a sliver of hope flickering, for her to leap onto the bed, seeking refuge with me.

But then, to my utter disbelief, she changed course. Ignoring me completely, she padded straight toward… him. My stalker. Who had now squatted down, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Mommy just woke up, little one. Don’t you want to greet her?” He purred the words to Millie, as if this were some perfectly normal domestic scene. He started stroking her fur, his touch gentle, mesmerizing. And Millie, the traitorous feline, melted against him, rubbing between his legs, purring like a tiny motor.

“What the hell?” The words escaped me, raw and disbelieving. Millie, my loyal companion, was fraternizing with the enemy. This was surreal, insane.

Vincent’s golden gaze snapped back to me, heated, possessive. “She listens to Daddy well. She’s a really good girl,” he drawled, the words dripping with a double entendre that sent a shiver down my spine. He wasn’t talking about the cat.

God, why did he have to be so… distracting? Like a Greek god sculpted into rugged perfection. He looked like he’d stepped right out of those fantasy novels I secretly devoured, the hero I’d conjured in my daydreams. He was devastatingly handsome, a walking, breathing temptation that made my own plainness sting with sudden insecurity.

“Millie, come here.” Bolting out of bed, propelled by a surge of adrenaline, I lunged towards them. I needed to scoop her up, to rescue her before… before what? Before he corrupted her, too? But Millie, with the uncanny agility of a cat, dodged my outstretched hands, darting between my legs and out of the bedroom, presumably towards the kitchen, her breakfast senses tingling.

My momentum carried me forward, straight into a wall of solid muscle. Vincent’s arms, like steel bands, wrapped around my waist, steadying me against his chest. “Why the rush, kitten?”

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against me as I met his intense stare with a glare of my own. I tried to ignore the heat radiating from his body, his hands possessively gripping my waist, the intoxicatingly fresh scent of him that filled my nostrils. Morning musk and something sharper, wilder.

The man was pure, unadulterated muscle, towering over me, easily twice my size. But I refused to let intimidation paralyze me. I struggled against his hold, pushing at his chest, determined to create space, to breathe.

“Don’t touch me,” I managed, the words gaining a little more steel this time. Surprisingly, he relented, releasing my waist, lifting his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, a smug grin playing on his lips.

“Kitten has claws, I see,” he mocked, his voice laced with amusement.

Before I could retort, before I could even think of slapping that infuriating smirk off his face, my wrist was caught in a vice-like grip. His fingers, strong and calloused, tightened around me, drawing me closer, inexorably closer. My breath hitched. The world seemed to tilt, to spin, as his golden eyes held mine captive, drowning me in their depths. His handsome face descended, his proximity stealing the air from my lungs.

“Good girls don’t behave like that if you don’t want me to spank you.” He fucking winked. WINKED. My mouth fell open, a silent gasp escaping my lips. Disbelief warred with a strange, unsettling flicker of… something else. Audacity, yes, but also… a terrifying, thrilling undercurrent that I dared not name. This man, this stalker, was playing a dangerous game, and I, it seemed, was trapped right in the middle of it.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. His hand crept under my shirt, tightened its grip, pulling me flush against him. The cool, hard material of the vest pressed into my stomach, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his skin. I’d thrown on the first things I could find after waking up in a cold sweat – an oversized band t-shirt and my most comfortable, threadbare panties. Completely exposed. If he wanted to… if he wanted to do anything truly awful… resistance felt futile.

My gaze darted down to the vest, then back up to his face, trying to find some semblance of reason in his eyes. But they were dark, golden pools, reflecting the dim light of my apartment with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

Beneath my lashes, I managed a brittle question, forcing the words past the lump of fear in my throat. “What’s with the uniform?” I tugged slightly at the edge of the vest, the movement creating a minuscule space between us, a desperate attempt to regain some control. “Are you playing a cop? Because let me tell you, I will not role-play with you when you cuff me to bed to your own enjoyment.” The words came out sharper than intended, laced with a nervous bravado I didn’t entirely feel.

Vincent blinked, that unnerving gaze holding mine for a beat too long. Then, unexpectedly, a sound escaped him – a low chuckle that quickly escalated into full-blown laughter. His head dipped forward, the weight of it settling against my shoulder as he pulled me into a loose, suffocating embrace. Every instinct screamed at me to push him away, to fight, to run. But his arms were like steel bands, his strength a tangible thing. And under the fear, a confusing, unwelcome thrill sparked to life, fueled by the sheer audacity of his touch, his presence.

His lips ghosted against my neck, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I shuddered, not entirely from fear, but… something close to it. Something complicated and dangerous.

“Fuck,” he breathed into my ear, his voice husky with amusement, or maybe something else, something darker. “Sweetheart, you are killing me.” This time, the hug tightened, his arms wrapping around my waist with bruising force. And then I felt it. The unmistakable ridge pressing against my stomach, hard, insistent.

“So you are into that?” I blurted out, the words sounding ridiculously weak and breathless even to my own ears.

Awkwardly, I tried to create distance again, arching my back, but it only brought me more intimately against him. His hand, now on my bare back, burned through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. The heat of his skin seared into mine, branding me with his touch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The mantra ran through my mind, a desperate plea for escape, for clarity, for something other than this swirling vortex of fear and… something else.

“Baby, you’re something else,” he chuckled again, his voice still laced with amusement, but now there was a deeper note, a hint of something predatory. “We both know you would love to be tied down.” His grip tightened, his fingers digging into my sides. “You don’t read the books just for boredom, sweetheart. Not when the guy in a mask makes you come from his tongue when you are cuffed to the table.” His words were low, seductive, a viper’s whisper in the darkness.

My breath hitched, a strangled sound in my throat. The image he painted, vivid and visceral, flashed unbidden in my mind. Heat bloomed low in my belly, shame and a forbidden thrill warring within me. I squeezed my eyes shut, shuddering, trying to block out the image, his words, the unsettling truth they held. “It sounds like you’re a big fan of him, too,” I managed to whisper, the words escaping like a confession.

He squeezed my waist, his fingers tracing the line of my hip bone, sending another shiver rippling through me. His lips brushed against my temple, the warmth of his breath a stark contrast to the chilling undercurrent of his words. His chest, pressed against mine, was coiled with a tension that mirrored my own. He exhaled softly, the air stirring the hair at my temple.

“Why do you like his work?”

The sudden question, so unexpectedly direct, made me halt. My mind, still reeling from the suggestive innuendo and the sheer strangeness of the situation, stumbled. I blinked, trying to make sense of the abrupt topic shift. “Why would I answer you?” I pushed back, the defensive instinct kicking in. “You didn’t answer me. You broke into my apartment. You’re wearing a… a tactical vest. And you’re threatening to spank me. Why would I answer anything you ask?”

“I’m a private detective.” He said the words matter-of-factly, as if they explained everything, as if they justified his presence, his actions. “That’s what I do when I’m not around you.”

My eyebrows shot up, nearing my hairline. “You… what?” Disbelief warred with a flicker of something akin to… curiosity, “For real?” Somehow, the thought of him being a law citizen protector didn't make sense to his stalker's behaviour.

Leaning back slightly, he stroked my jaw with the back of his fingers, a soft smile playing on his lips. It was a disarming gesture, almost gentle, completely at odds with the hard edge of his earlier pronouncements. “Don’t believe me? You can Google me if you want.” His thumb traced the line of my jaw, sending another unexpected pulse of heat through me. “ Detective Vincent. Crime Investigator,” He paused, his eyes holding mine, a hint of challenge in their depths. “I’ve made many achievements over the years, catching criminals who prey on girls like you. So to answer your question,” he leaned in closer again, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I’m also into role-play, if you want me to indulge your little fantasy.”

The words hung in the air between us, thick with unspoken promises and veiled threats. My mind was a chaotic whirlwind of questions and conflicting emotions. Detective? Crime Investigator? Catching criminals who prey on girls like me? What did that even mean? Was he serious? Was this some elaborate, twisted game? And… indulge my fantasy? The words resonated with a disturbing and undeniable pull.

I stared at him, searching his face for any hint of deception, any sign that this was some elaborate prank, some cruel manipulation. But his eyes remained steady, dark and intense, but… strangely honest. Or was that just another layer of his deception?

I was sure that he was the author of my favourite dark romance books, so why...

The books… they were beautiful. Dark tales spun with words that wrapped around you like velvet shadows, suffocating and seductive. I thought he was…V.R. Taurean. The eyes betrayed everything. A mirror to the soul. The man I’d imagined behind those pages, charming, intense, with eyes that seemed to see right through you. The author. That’s what I thought. Until today.

A prickle of unease had been growing, subtle at first, like a whisper in the dark. Things he knew, details he shouldn’t… Then the phone incident, the deleted messages, and pictures vanished without a trace. My stomach clenched. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t the brooding author I’d built in my mind. This was something else, something sharper, more dangerous.

The Superman analogy flashed in my mind, absurd and yet… fitting somehow. Two lives. Hidden depths. Deception. The realization slammed into me, hot and furious.

“So if I had told the police about you, they would not suspect you because they would recognize you as a detective? You are under their protection, you mean?” My anger flared, a desperate attempt to mask the rising panic that threatened to choke me.

He stopped his circling, reaching out to tug my lower lip between his fingers. His eyes, dark and fathomless, didn’t leave my mouth as he finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against my skin. “In a way, but it’s easier to find people if I have access to police records. Also, I graduated as an IT engineer, playing with computers a bit allowed me to learn hacking techniques, hence the deleted number and photos on your phone.”

My mouth parted, not from his touch, though that was doing strange things to my insides, but from sheer disbelief. He was admitting it. Just like that. The hacking, the access, the… everything.

“You told me so much about you,” I whispered, the words tumbling out, laced with incredulity and a terrifying fascination. “Aren’t you afraid that this information can be leaked out, bring you behind bars?”

His finger stilled at my upper lip, tracing its curve before he pinned me with a gaze so dark, so intense, it felt like a physical weight pressing down on me. “That won’t happen.”

“Why not?” My breath hitched in my throat.

His smile returned, slow, dangerous, utterly captivating. “Because baby,” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath warm against my ear, “by that time, you will fall in love with me.”