Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

may have been a joke, but it held merit. I should’ve been firmer when I’d declined their invitation, but after the tenth one, I gave in.

Okay, after the tenth one and my PR department pointing out it would be good press, I gave in. And I fucking hated the press.

But I could always use the good kind, even if I didn’t allow anyone to photograph me in the writeups. My picture splashed across the internet would make it hard to continue giving back in the other way.

The way that actually made a difference.

The head doctor giving the tour pointed out some rooms that would be upgraded or remodeled or some shit. I nodded, pretending to listen to a damn thing he said, when motion in my periphery caught my attention.

One of the entourage doctors moved near the large window to wave into the room. I glanced in, my eyes immediately landing on her.

Fuck.

Sitting away from the rest of the group, a woman returned the enthusiastic wave and thumbs up with a small smile.

A fake smile.

With her long blond hair and blue eyes, she was easily the most beautiful woman I’d seen. But it was that sadness in those big eyes that made it hard for me to tear my gaze away.

I need to find out who she is.

Usually, only work and my hobby gave me that familiar rush of adrenaline. But there was something about her.

“Ready to move on?” Dr. Davis prompted.

No.

“Lead the way.” I followed after the group, half listening to more spiels and praise and plans, but my thoughts kept drifting to that woman.

When we were finally done, Dr. Davis stopped us in the lobby. I already knew what was coming before he found his balls and said, “Alexander, our media department wants a picture of you to include with the story on our website.”

Asshole.

I had a rule about not being photographed, something I’d made them aware of. As usual, it didn’t stop them from trying.

“Craig will be happy to pose for a group photo,” I said firmly.

“But—”

“And it’ll have to be fast, we have another meeting.”

Wisely taking what he could get, Dr. Davis nodded. I stood off to the side as a handful of pictures were taken, answering a few softball questions from someone on their media team.

I was in the middle of trying to break away when she exited the elevator. She tried—and fucking failed—to blend in as she moved across the lobby, her eyes on the door. Before she could escape, someone called, “Briar.”

Briar.

Fitting name.

After a brief hesitation, she stopped as the doctor from our group went to talk to her.

Watching, I realized they weren’t just friends or doctor and patient. They were family—probably sisters. They had the same blue eyes and mannerisms, but the doctor was taller with brown hair and Briar was short and blond.

And damaged.

The doctor hugged her, though Briar didn’t return it. She started walking again, nearing the door before she let her fake smile slip.

She could become an obsession.

That was why I watched her go.

And then I followed.

Chapter Fifteen

Alive

Briar

For… nothing

“I HATE BEING startled from behind,” I stupidly blurted.

“Noted,” Alexander said.

Standing across from me.

Inside my apartment.

Why the hell was he inside my apartment?

I didn’t know much, but I did know it couldn’t be good. People didn’t just break into other people’s houses to enjoy a nice herbal tea and chat.

“Is this because I ghosted you?” I asked. He’d called and texted after our debacle of a date, but I hadn’t answered nor responded.

A man going to such lengths may be twistedly romantic in movies, but in real life, it was not.

Kinda.

Fine, it was maybe a little flattering, but I was also fucked in the head, so…

“No,” he answered.

“Then why are you here?”

“To help you.”

I was about to tell him that I’d already done the dishes and the garbage wasn’t ready to go out, so I didn’t need help. But before I could speak, he crossed his arms. My gaze dropped to what he had clutched in his gloved right hand, and I twisted to scan the table before returning my focus to the small knife.

My knife from my kit.

Was I supposed to scream? Or was it not scream? I couldn’t remember, and my brain had decided to turn into a dead fish.

I froze.

Numb.

Lost.

And—just as she’d always said—stupid.

Alexander

SHOW ME, FLOWER. Show me what I want to see.

Studying her expression closely, I wanted to see fear—no, terror. Anger. Outrage. Indignation. I wanted her to scream at me. Or scream for help.

I wanted to see some fight come into her blue eyes because that would mean, in the face of a threat, she’d realized she wanted to live.

But all I saw was confusion and shock. If anything, she was calmer than when she’d gotten home to frantically look for her kit.

What happened today?

Her stunned silence stretched until the first flicker of real emotion crossed her face.

Irritation.

It wasn’t the reaction I usually got from my targets, but it was something, at least.

Her eyes narrowed as she gave an exasperated sigh, as if my being there was simply an inconvenience. “Aria put you up to this, didn’t she? Or was it Derrick? This is some fucking scared-straight therapy method, right? You can go ahead and tell them it worked. Message received. I’ll try harder or whatever.”

“No one sent me.”

That part was the truth. No one had sent me. But the scared-straight description was pretty damn accurate.

I just hoped like fuck it worked.

“Bullshit. How else would you know about my…” Her wide gaze darted from the table to the window, putting the pieces together before shooting to me. “You’ve actually been watching me?”

I lifted my chin.

Along with the cameras in the living room and bedroom, I’d also tapped into her cell—an opportune bonus when I’d accidentally bumped into her the first day. I’d pocketed it when I’d helped her pick up the contents of her purse to install my tech before turning it in. I could hear the calls she rarely made, the voicemails she never