Haunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse Duet Book 1)

Chapter 7: The Manipulator

“You need to get out of the house,’ Daya concludes, staring at me with fear and distress swirling in her sage eyes. I just told her about my mom’s visit yesterday.

By the look on her face, I can tell that she’s well and truly scared for me.

‘I need to finish this manuscript,’ I argue, my thoughts straying to the massive plot hole I’ve fallen into. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I press the proverbial Life Alert—I can’t get up. I’m going to have to roll out my whiteboard and sticky notes to map out the plot tonight, so I can figure out how to solve the issue once and for all.

Sometimes I wish I could just simplify my books and call it a day, but then I wouldn’t have the readership I have.

‘Uh uh,’ Daya snipes, shaking her head at me. ‘Get ready. We’re having a girls night.’

I slump, the whiteboard and sticky notes going poof. But I don’t argue. I’m an indie author, so I publish when I’m ready to. I hardly set deadlines for myself because the pressure suppresses my creativity. I can’t write when I’m too ridden with anxiety to get the book done by a specific time. And as great as my readers are, there’s always that pressure to get the next book out.

Of course, Daya knows this and now wields this knowledge as a weapon.

Dick.

Groaning, I let her hurdle me up the stairs and into my bedroom, my eyes immediately finding the mirror and chest—they always seem to do that now after finding out what really happened in here.

Those two pieces feel like beacons in the room now, glaring at me as if to say I know who killed her.

It doesn’t matter that I slapped some black paint on them. The bones are still the same.

The walls and floor are smooth black rock now, with white ceilings and large white rugs to lighten up the room. I also installed a heating system in the floors. Otherwise, getting up in the middle of the night to pee and stepping on ice-cold floors would just be cruel and unusual punishment.

I decided I love the sconces in the hallway so much that I wanted a few in my room, too. Placed artfully on the wall my bed is against, surrounding a massive, beautiful art piece of a woman.

Straight ahead of the bedroom door is my favorite part—the balcony. Black double doors open up to a terrace that overlooks the cliffside. It has a way of making you feel small and insignificant when you’re standing before a sight as beautiful as that.

The entire house has now been modernized, though I kept most of the original style. The sconces, checkered floors, black stone fireplace, and black cabinets, just to name a few. Most importantly, I kept Gigi’s red velvet rocking chair.

I’m living in a Victorian gothic dreamhouse.

‘We’re going to make you look hot and find you a delicious man to take home tonight. And if the stalker comes around, he can kill him, too.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Daya, it’s hard to find a man these days that can even fuck right. You think I’m going to find a man that will kill in my honor, too? That’s cute.’

‘You never know, baby girl. Crazier things have happened.’

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The bass pumping through the speakers vibrates throughout my body. My black, ripped skinny jeans cling to my curves, and the plunging low cut red tank shows off my ample cleavage along with the small glistening beads of sweat between my breasts.