Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
This cage where he might keep track of my every single move.
He says he wants a partner, but he watches me like I’m his pet.
And not even a well-behaved pet, but one he expects to fuck everything up. He keeps careful watch so he can step in and prevent any of my possible missteps.
A pet he has no faith in.
Maybe it’s not even a spy pen and I’m getting upset over nothing.
But I don’t believe that, not really.
I want to know if he’s listening to me.
I think about saying something in front of the pen that I know will get a reaction out of him if he’s listening, but if I just talk into the pen when I’m in the apartment by myself, he’ll know I’m suspicious. He can either acknowledge it, too, and switch his spying tactics to using some other household item or pretend he didn’t hear anything so I think I’m crazy and it’s not a spy pen and then I don’t suspect it anymore.
No, I need to be more subtle than that. I need to say something I wouldn’t want him to hear, but I need to make sure he doesn’t realize I’m onto him.
A phone call.
I’ll fake a phone call.
From who?
I remember the other night when he woke me up with his hand around my throat and fire in his eyes because I said Dylan’s name in my sleep.
A normal guy might never believe I’d have a romantic fuck to give about Dylan after what he did to me last year, but Silvan knows I’m living with him after what he has done to me this year.
Silvan might be convinced.
It’s a mean thing to do, but he’s done plenty of mean things.
Besides, I won’t let it drag on.
If he comes home pissed and fucks me like he does when I’ve pissed him off… well, I’ll let him do that first, but once he confronts me about Dylan, I’ll confront him about the spy pens and reassure him that nothing is going on.
I don’t want to play games like these. If we’re going to be in a relationship, I want to know he trusts me. Maybe we need to talk about it. I guess we haven’t really defined our relationship, he just keeps doing insane things like trying to impregnate me, marry me, and move me in with him.
We’ll have hot sex and then we’ll have the talk and I’ll tell him I don’t want him spying on me anymore. If he wants to be my boyfriend, then he should act like a boyfriend—not a warden.
I pick up the pen and click it, then I start jotting down notes from this page of my textbook.
After a few minutes, when it feels natural, I put the pen down and grab my cell phone.
“Hello?” I pause briefly, then look over my shoulder even though I’m alone since that’s what I feel my character would do. “Why are you calling me? I told you Silvan moved me in with him. You can’t do that anymore.” I pause again, trying to think where to take this since I’m fully winging it. “No, Dylan, I cannot meet you tonight. Are you crazy? Look, if you want to talk, you’re going to have to text me during school hours. He’s a senior and we have different concentrations, so we don’t have any of the same classes. You can’t text me when I’m at his place, though. It’s too risky.”
That last line is almost too much, and I don’t want to tip my hand, so I decide to end my call with pretend Dylan.
“Look, I have to go. I have homework and he could be home any minute.” I pause briefly. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”
I tap the screen to end my pretend call, then put the phone down.
My heart is racing a bit now that it’s done. There’s no taking that back.
I have to know, though. One way or the other.
Chapter thirty-seven
Sophie
When Silvan gets home, I’m not sure what to expect.
It’s evening, already dark outside.
I feel a little jumpy so I’m up off the couch and heading for the kitchen to greet him like an eager pup when its owner gets home.
My eagerness is less excitement he’s here, though, and more anxiety about how he’ll respond—if he’ll respond—to what I did earlier.
I don’t know how the whole spy pen, watching my every move thing works. He has school and his own shit to do, so does he spy on me in real time, or is it something he’ll review later? He may not have heard the phone call yet.
I search his face for some sign of anger. He isn’t looking at me, though, he’s busy putting down the stuff he brought home.
He sets a bottle of wine on the counter and starts unpacking a paper bag full of groceries.