Chapter 126

Fiona

I take my time making my way upstairs after Ethan leaves for his meeting. Sophia stopped me, asking about how our trip was, and she was much more enthusiastic about it than I thought she would be. I guess not everyone is upset about mine and Ethan’s relationship like his parents are.

It gives me a bit of hope for the future because maybe there will be more pack members who think the same way as Sohpia and her brother.

We part ways after a few minutes of conversation, and when I make it to my desk, I pause. A blue package sits on the corner of my desk, slightly bigger than the last package I received. It’s wrapped in the same type of paper as the last one, other than the color.

Again, there’s no name or indication of where it came from. The only thing on it is my name. There was no one coming off the elevator when I came up, and since this is the only elevator that comes to Ethan’s office, I would’ve seen anyone who’d recently been up here.

I can’t ask Ethan, since he is in a meeting, but I’m sure it’s not from him. The last one wasn’t, and he wouldn’t just put a random gift on my desk like this. Does that mean the same person who sent the jewelry also sent this?

I flip the package over in my hands and study it, wondering if I should open it. There’s a slight layer of dust on the top, which means it’s been here for longer than a day. Had it been delivered while we were gone?

Taking a seat, I shake the package. Nothing rattles inside, so I lay it on the desk.

With shaking hands, I carefully tear the paper off, gasping when I see the lacy contents. A revealing white lacy lingerie set is laid in a pillow of fake rose petals. It’s like the sets you would wear on your wedding night for your husband.

Disgust and fear slide down my spine like a cold goo, making me shiver. Who would send something so personal?

Quickly, I yank open the bottom drawer of my desk- where I stored the last gift- and go to throw the lingerie inside. However, another unopened gift sits atop the jewelry from the week before last.

I shouldn’t open it, but even with the thought running through my head, I pull the light orange package out and set it on my desk.

My name is scrawled in the same writing across the top, and I swallow the nerves that clog my throat. Maybe I should wait until Ethan comes back to open this. My mind also wanders to Ryan. Did he see anyone delivering these or had Patrice brought these up again?

This package is larger and heavier than both the ones I already opened, which spikes my anxiety up even more. I can feel my pulse pounding in my head and the woosh of my blood flowing travels between my ears.

After staring at the box for a few minutes with no interruptions, I slowly tear at the orange paper. The more that comes off, the faster my heart races. It doesn’t take long before the paper falls away and I’m lifting the lid.

A pair of designer black stiletto heels lay in the box. They look to be at least four or five inches, something I would never wear, and when I pick one up to look at it, a little card falls out of the shoe.

For the next time we meet.

Immediate, I drop the shoe and jump back.

“What the hell?”

“You okay, Fiona?” Patrice asks, making me jump. I didn’t see her there or hear the elevator, but there she is, pushing her cart.

“I…”

My words leave me as I notice another colored package on the top of her cart. A shiver runs down my spine, and I try to swallow the nerves, but my hands continue shaking. What is happening?

“I-is that for me?” I ask quietly, standing on wobbly legs. Patrice looks down at the cart and then back up at me with a smile.

“It sure is,” she says then winks. “You must have one special secret admire. I delivered two last week while you were away, did you get them?”

I nod, unable to speak as she carries the package over and sets it on my desk. She’s completely unaware of the fear rushing through my veins, turning them cold as ice. Secret admirer?

More like creepy stalker.

The new box is long and slim but no less frightening. My name is printed in bold black letters this time, not the same scrawled sharpie writing from the other boxes. Actually, each of the times my name was written was different. The first one had thin, shaky writing. The second had loopy, almost cursive writing. The third had thin, neat writing.

“Did you see who sent it?” I ask, but I can guess her answer. She hadn’t seen the sender the first time. I pull the paper from the corner down, tearing a long line off until I can see the black box inside.

Like I thought, she shakes her head, saying, “No. This one was just in the mail room, and the last two were left at the front desk.”

“Did the receptionist see who left them there?” I ask desperately, eyeing the long rectangular box. Patrice shakes her head again.

“No. I asked, but they were there before she got here.”

I groan. Who was sending me these weird gifts?

“Everything okay here?”

My head snaps up at Ethan’s voice, and I jump to my feet. He eyes me suspiciously, then glances at the box with curiosity.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know. C-can you open it?” I ask, my voice wavering. Ethan’s head tilts up slightly, his nose barely wrinkling as he sniffs the air. I don’t know what he smells, but the narrowing of his eyes tells me it probably isn’t good.

Then he’s stalking forward and grabbing the box off my desk. I don’t move, and I barely breath as he rips the top off.

“The fuck is this?” He growls, looking to me for confirmation. He then flips the box around to reveal a single red rose, and when he does, a little white note falls out just like with the last gift. It flutters to the floor, and I freeze.

“You dropped—”

Ethan swipes it up before Patrice can finish, he reads the words, “You’ll always be mine.”

Bile burns the back of my throat, and I fall back into my chair, hunching over my trash can. I dry heave, wanting and needing the nausea to free itself, but nothing comes out. I clutch the edge of my desk and the edge of the trash bin.

“Fiona.”

Warm hands cup my cheeks, lifting my face. Ethan watches me with concern, keeping our eyes connected as he shoves the box behind him.

“Hey, it’s okay. There’s nothing here that can hurt you,” he whispers. I nod, leaning into his hand.

“I… I just… this is freaking me out,” I mumble, biting at my bottom lip so it doesn’t tremble.

“Do you know who could be sending these?”

Again, I shake my head.

“There’s more.”

“More than the necklace?”

“Yes,” I whisper and point at the drawer I hid the others in. My heart thuds in my chest as Ethan turns, without taking a hand from my cheek, and opens the drawer. He pulls out the lingerie and stilettos, a soft yet angry growl tumbling from his lips.

“Patrice.”

“Yes sir?”

She steps forward, abandoning her cart to stand in front of us. I watch her confused eyes bounce between us. I’m sure she’s just as confused as we are.

“If any more mysterious packages come for Fiona, bring them directly to me. I don’t want any more brought to Fiona, and I want you to be extra cautious as you deliver. If there’s anything out of the normal or you see anyone near your cart that shouldn’t be, report it to me,” he instructs. She nods quickly, clasping her hands together over her chest.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize these were not from you, sir. I thought you were wanting to… I didn’t mean for…”

“It’s alright, Patrice,” Ethan says calmly. He shifts to look at her for a moment, offering a soft smile I’ve only seen him give me or some of the people closest to him. “I know this wasn’t your fault. I just want you to watch and see if you can find out who is sending these packages.”

She nods quickly, stuttering, “O-of course. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

Ethan dismisses Patrice, and with one last apology, she scurries back to the elevator. I watch in a daze as Ethan gathers the creepy gifts and shoves them into the larger trash can in his office, but only after taking pictures as evidence. He says it’s ‘just in case’ but I don’t want to think about what he means.

Instead, I stand and throw my arms around his neck, curling into him when he picks me up and walks into his office. My heart is still racing and pounding between my ears so loudly that I have to take deep breaths to calm it down.

Ethan, the amazing man that he is, sits in his office chair and allows me to curl up in his lap, using his arms as a stress blanket.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head. “No one is taking you from me.”