She was raving mad, following him and pulling him by the arm. "Who the hell are you to put me under surveillance?"
He smiled, his response as casual as it was infuriating. He brought out his ID. "Government agent Reg," he said simply.
The ID gave absolutely nothing away.
"I refuse to be restricted from my freedom of movement!" she snapped, now standing by his sleek Lexus in the parking lot.
"Little thing, do shut up, or I will tape your mouth shut. Got it?" His tone was sharp and mocking as he opened his car door and pushed her inside.
She glared at him, arms crossed, but before she could retort, he drove off. Minutes later, he stopped in front of her parents' house.
"Why are we at my parents' house?" she demanded.
"What did you think, that I was kidnapping you?" He scoffed, clearly amused. "I'm not crazy like some people."
She threw the car door open and stepped out, fuming. He followed suit, and she turned to him. "What are you doing?"
"I'm staying over," he said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"What? My dad is home!" she stammered, the shock evident on her face.
He smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nope. He's on a cruise as we speak—to find his gay lover."
Her frown deepened. "You're joking."
"Nope," he said, shrugging. "Like I said, you're under 24-hour surveillance. At home and at school. I'll be there, haunting you like an illness."
He took heavy steps toward her, and she, terrified, bolted into the house. Her heart raced as she scanned the living room and spotted the note on the table:
"Hey sweetheart, on a short seven-day cruise. Don't miss me too much. Order takeout and try to go outside to see the sun. Love, Dad."
She groaned, crumpling the note in her hand, and turned to find Reg already lounging on the couch. His long legs were casually crossed on the coffee table, and he looked infuriatingly at home in the small, cozy living room.
The room had a warm, welcoming charm with soft beige walls, a plush brown sofa, and an old, patterned rug. A low wooden coffee table sat in the middle, its surface cluttered with magazines and a forgotten bowl of candy. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air from a nearby diffuser.
"That's what happens when you're a good girl," Reg mused, his smirk never fading. "Your parents leave you at home because they're sure you'll never go out anyway. You're as good as the furniture in the house."
He bawled over laughing while she stood there, a nervous wreck.
"Are you done?" she hissed, fists clenched at her sides.
He smirked, his dark eyes gleaming like midnight. "Oh no, we're just getting started."