Page 33 of Break Me

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“Do you always let yourself into other people’s homes?” I ask, drawing Chloe's attention to me.

She squeezes Kelsie tight on her lap and rests her cheek on Kelsie's head. I want to rush forward and tear them apart, but I don't want to lose my temper in front of either of them. If I cause a scene, Kelsie will start to cry, and Chloe will just have another mark to hold against me.

“I don’t make a habit of it, no. You really shouldn't take your eyes off your kid,” she adds, flashing me a warm smile. “You never know what crazies are lurking around.”

I clench my jaw and squeeze my fingers tightly into fists at my sides.

“What are you doing here?”

And how the fuck did you get in?

How do you even know where I live?

Chloe rolls her eyes, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable her being here is making me. But I’m not just uncomfortable. I’m also worried. About what she wants, about whether I can resist whatever she’s here to demand of me.

“Relax, Sam,” she chides, gently pushing Kelsie off her lap and onto the floor so she can keep playing. She turns, resting her elbow on the seat of the chair behind her and props her chin in her hand. “I came over the neighbour's fence and through the side door, which you left unlocked, by the way.” Her smile widens. “Nobody saw me,” she assures.

Becausethat'sthe fucking issue.

I'm not sure how to react to her being here, if I'm being honest. I can't exactly yank her up and throw her outside because that will cause a scene, and then everything will be out in the open. A barely legal girl crying and screaming on my front lawn will definitely attract the attention of the neighbours, especially Janet next door, which means it wouldn’t be long before Marissa found out. On the flip side, I’m not sure how badly I really want her to leave.

God, it’s dangerous even admitting that to myself, but it’s the truth. I’m so fucking lonely that the thought of some company, even that of a sociopath who clearly has it in for me, is enticing.

Sitting down on the arm of the couch, I study Chloe for a moment. As much as I don't want her around my daughter, I have to concede that Chloe is good with her. It surprises me how gentle and soothing she is with Kelsie, like she’s done this before. Maybe with the younger brother she spoke of? Losing almost your entire family in a fire would definitely make you feel protective over what you have left. This might be a good time to try and find out more about her so I can work outwhyshe's targeting me like this. It's not directionless, I'm sure of that; I just don't know her reasoning.

“You're good with her,” I acknowledge, clearing my throat and nodding to Kelsie, who has taken the toy from Chloe's hand and is making them play-kiss each other. Chloe shrugs and smiles at me, her eyes sparkling of innocence I know isn’t real.

“I love kids,” she murmurs.

“Did you get along well with your brother when you were little?” I ask.

Her eyes narrow, her smile still wide and playful. “If I didn't know any better, Mr. Reed, I'd think you were trying to psychoanalyse me,” she purrs, twirling a lock of dark hair around her finger.

“I'm just trying to understand you better,” I hedge, wincing at being seen through so easily.

Chloe laughs. “Or you've been watching too muchCriminal Minds, and you're trying to 'profile' me.” I wince again and her eyes narrow with satisfaction. “Maybe I just like you, Mr. Reed. Maybethat'smy motivation for all of this.”

I know that’s not likely—the way she says it makes it pretty clear. Chloe is a pathological liar; I've seen that much already. The worst part is she's so obviously aware that what she's doing isn't right, because every now and then, I see a flicker of guilt pass through her eyes. She's a troubled little girl who clearly has some issues, and I have no idea how to deal with that.

The worst thing is, in spite of everything, I really do want to help her. I can see the sadness mixed with joy in her eyes when she looks at Kelsie playing, almost wistfully, like she wants to capture that innocence again. Losing her family could be what's fuelling her issues, the desperation to replace something she lost, with some wayward affair that replaces the feeling of being genuinely loved.

My body tenses, because that’s something I can relate to. Losing someone close to you is the worst thing in the world. There are times I wished I knew Rachel was dead, because at least that way I’d have closure.

“What happened to your aunt?” I ask, unable to shake the idea now that I have it. I’m beginning to doubt there’s even an aunt in the picture at all. As far as I can tell, this girl has nobody looking out for her, except me.

Chloe's eyes snap to me, and narrow. “Who says anything happened to her?” she challenges. Her response is too fast and too defensive. I’ve clearly hit a nerve.

“You said she got sick and that’s why you left,” I remind her.

Her nostrils flare, just slightly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

In that moment, she looks like a lost child. Her shoulders draw in as she hunches forward, paying too much attention to the mass of toys sprawled out on the rug. I keep pushing, because it's the first time I've felt any kind of control around her. I like putting her on the defensive because it makes me feel in control. It's an addictive feeling, one that I want to explore further and sink my teeth into.

“How long have you been living away from home?” I push. This is as close as I’ve come to breaking down her shell and I’m determined to keep pushing her. Something happened to this girl, and I want to know what. I’m sick of being on the back foot, waiting to see how she’ll come at me next. “Come on, Chloe,” I goad when she says nothing. “You showed up obviously expecting me to react in some way. Now you don't want to play ball?”

“I could ask you questions too, Mr. Reed.” Chloe arches a brow and fixes me with a cool, level gaze. “Like why you're so willing to fuck a teenager when you have a wife, and a kid.”

“Touché,” I murmur, aware she has a point. She might have forced me into this in the beginning, but there’s a part of me that wants her, even if I won’t admit it out loud. “I'll answer one for you if you answer one for me.”


Tags: Ivy Arnold Erotic