Roses Are Red, Dragons Are Blue

3. I've Got a Stalker

Hi Guys,

I know, I know, I missed last weeks update. I had an emergency cover fixing situation for my published novels... Btw, my book three just went live on Amazon! Yay, that's three published novels now. I'm so happy. ^.^

To make it up to ya'll, this chapter is a little longer than the others so far. Have a nice weekend!

Much love,

Robin

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3. I've Got a Stalker

I didn't go home. Instead, I called a taxi and had them drop me off at a hotel for the night. I was not about to face my apartment again until I had somebody with me who could check that vase of roses for fingerprints. The hotel would have to do, for now, I'd purposely picked a more expensive one because I knew they'd have better security.

Feeling somewhat safe again for the first time that evening, I sank down on the bed. Kicking off my heels and throwing myself backward, sinking into the soft mattress with a sigh. What a nightmare this was, I needed to figure out who was doing this to me and why. What had I done to cause this? Why was he after me? And what did he think to achieve? Sending me those roses, making me feel scared?

Eventually, I got up, showered, and headed for bed. I was exhausted at this point, from a day at work, my meeting with my grandfather, and dealing with this stalker. The truth was, the only bright point that evening had been talking with Fletcher. Even if I struggled to really believe that I'd seen a dragon, that he had admitted to being the dragon.

With the piece of paper with his number on my nightstand, right next to my charging phone, I fell asleep. Blessedly dreamless and restful. Maybe, I had been more scared in my home already than I realized, knowing someone was leaving me those flowers when I didn't know who.

That morning, I bought a pantsuit from the boutique to wear, dressed and did my hair as meticulously as I could, and headed for work. I'd use my work computer to look up a good PI to help me figure out who my stalker really was and solve this problem for me. Fletcher was right, a restraining order would be a good idea to get, but that would require me to know who he was first.

The small nonprofit that I worked for specialized in locating worthy endeavors to sponsor that helped combat climate change. Then we facilitated making the right connections with the right people to see such promising ideas come to fruition. It was part social interaction, with many interviews with hopefuls who wanted us to help them find an investor. Part administrative work, somehow this job generated a ton of paperwork to go through.

There was always a security man on-premise here too, which made me feel better when I sat down at my desk and booted my computer. When in the business of handing out money, naturally, we had a lot of grifters coming through that door. It was our job to figure out who was real and who was fake, and sometimes tempers did fray.

I wondered if my stalker was one of these clients, someone I'd told no to when he or she had applied for a grant with us. Maybe this wasn't about romantic interest, maybe this was just revenge. Then I recalled the fact that that stalker had lain on my bed and touched everything in my underwear drawer. No, this didn't feel like revenge stalking, this felt far more predatory than that.

Working through lunch helped keep me distracted, I was on paperwork today, which I was grateful for, for once. I really didn't feel capable of dealing with a lot of people. I felt so worn thin, so frazzled still, that I was sure anyone I spoke with would see right through my facade. They'd see the scared, tight core, vibrating inside of me. One word of sympathy and I felt like I would crumble all over again, which was so ridiculous, so stupid, that at least it served to piss me off. Allowing me to power through most of my work at a rapid pace.