Chapter 110 Make him jealous
Veronica's POV:
I stared at the message from my stalker, my blood boiling with a mixture of fear and anger.
This was insane. I wasn't going to play along with some anonymous blackmailer who thought they could manipulate me with vague threats and promises of "truth."
I typed furiously: I'm calling the police. This is harassment and blackmail. Stop contacting me.
The response came immediately:
Unknown Number: Go ahead. Call them. But you'll never know the vital information I have about Chase Pemberton.
My fingers froze over the screen.
Chase. This person had information about Chase.
Me: What kind of information?
Unknown Number: The kind that explains why he's so obsessed with you. The kind that might change everything you think you know about your family. About his family.
A horrible thought occurred to me.
What if the stalker was Chase himself? What if this was some twisted game he was playing, trying to manipulate me further, to get me alone somewhere?
The thought made my skin crawl.
Me: No thanks. I'm done playing games with manipulative psychopaths. Leave me alone.
I didn't wait for a response. I blocked the number immediately, my hands shaking with adrenaline and anger.
But blocking the number didn't make me feel safer. Someone out there knew too much. Was watching me. Had my phone number and potentially my location.
I looked around the carnival again, scanning faces in the crowd, looking for anyone who seemed to be paying too much attention to me. But there were hundreds of people here... families, couples, teenagers.
Any one of them could be watching.
I spotted a carnival security officer standing near the game booths and made a quick decision.
I walked over to him, trying to appear casual despite my racing heart.
"Excuse me," I said. "I think someone might be following me. I've been getting threatening text messages, and I'm worried they might be here at the carnival."
The officer's expression immediately became serious. He was young with kind eyes and a professional demeanor.
"Can you describe the person?" he asked.
"That's the problem... I don't know who it is. The messages are from an unknown number. But they knew I was here, which means they're either tracking me or they're nearby watching."
"Have you blocked the number?"
"Just now, yes."
"Good. I'll alert the other officers to keep an eye out for anyone acting suspiciously. Can I get your description so we can watch for anyone following you specifically?"
I gave him a brief description... what I was wearing, my height, hair color... and he radioed it to the other security personnel.
"Stay in public areas," he advised. "Don't go anywhere isolated. And if you get any more messages or see anyone suspicious, find a security officer immediately."
"Thank you," I said, genuinely grateful.
As I turned to walk away, I heard Max's voice calling out.
"Veronica! There you are!"
He came jogging over with two enormous clouds of cotton candy, one pink and one blue, his face lit up with that boyish grin that made him look years younger.
"I got both flavors because I couldn't decide which one you'd want more," he said, offering them both to me like precious treasures.
I took the pink one, forcing a smile despite the anxiety still churning in my stomach. "Thank you. This is perfect."
"Did I see you speaking with that cop?" Max asked, glancing over at where the security officer was still standing.
I shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Oh, it was nothing. Just asking about restroom locations."
"Hmm," Max said, and there was something odd in his tone. "He's quite a handsome cop."
I blinked, confused by the observation. Then I actually looked at the security officer properly for the first time. I suppose he was conventionally attractive with a jawline, a nice build, and a friendly smile.
But I genuinely hadn't noticed any of that during our conversation. "I'd been that anxious."
I'd been too focused on the threatening messages, too worried about being followed.
"Trust me, I didn't notice," I said honestly.
Max frowned, and I recognized that expression.
He was jealous.
A laugh bubbled up in my throat despite everything.
"What's so funny?" Max asked, his frown deepening.
"You," I said, unable to help myself. "You're jealous."
"I am not," he said immediately, but his tone was defensive.
"You absolutely are," I said, feeling lighter.
Then a terrible, mischievous idea struck me.
"Oh look," I said, pointing at an attractive man who was walking by with his family. "He's handsome too."
I waved cheerfully. The man looked confused but waved back politely before continuing on with his wife and kids.
Max's eyes widened. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," I said innocently, then spotted another good-looking guy near the game booths. "Oh, and him! Very nice."
I waved again. This guy actually smiled and winked back, which made it even better.
"Veronica," Max said, a warning in his voice.
But I was on a roll now.
I waved at a teenage boy working in one of the food stands.
At a dad carrying his daughter on his shoulders. At anyone even remotely attractive that walked past.
"Stop that," Max growled, but I could see the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smile.
"Stop what?" I asked innocently. "I'm just being friendly. It's a carnival! Everyone's friendly at carnivals!"
"Veronica..."
"Oh! That one's really cute!" I pointed at a guy who looked like he could be a model, tall and athletic with perfect hair.
That was apparently Max's limit.
He grabbed my waving hand and pulled me close, his other arm wrapping around my waist possessively. We'd reached the parking lot by then, and he backed me up against our car, his body caging me in.
"Yes," he said, his blue eyes becoming dark with something that made my breath catch. "I was very jealous. Happy now?"
His face was inches from mine, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the way his pupils had dilated.
"And you," he continued, his hand coming up to cup my jaw, tilting my face up to his, "are only mine. Got it?"
The possessiveness in his voice should have annoyed me. Should have made me push back, assert my independence, remind him that I wasn't property to be claimed.
But instead, it sent a thrill through me that I didn't want to examine too closely.
"Say it," Max demanded, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. "Say you're mine."
My heart was pounding, and not entirely from the earlier fear. There was something intoxicating about the intensity in Max's eyes, the barely controlled jealousy, the way he was looking at me like I was the only woman in the world.
"I'm yours," I whispered,
Even as I said it, even as I saw the satisfaction flash in his eyes, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered: But are you really?