Santa Fe Billionaire

Chapter 71

Ava

I stare at my mobile as the rage and anger fuels my entire body. This man, he just won't let up. I swear if he was standing in front of me now, I'd easily punch him in the face. I'm not even sure whether to be concerned or just laugh this off. Only he is making me a bit shaky with the tone of his message.

Moving away from the patio I step back inside the penthouse suite and read the message again.

You had no right to run out on me like that the other day. I only wanted to talk and express how I felt. You're not going to get away from me, Ava. I'm still in love with you. So, I fucked up. I realize that. But if you think I'm letting you get away you need to think again. I've seen all your social media posts with that man and he's not right for you. I'm going to do everything I can to show you that he is wrong for you. I am the one that is meant to be with you forever happy after Not that jumped up son-of-a-bitch. I know where you're staying here in NYC and I'll be waiting.

I mean what does that even mean, I'll be waiting? Waiting what outside the entrance to the hotel? I don't think so the security will escort him away for being a loiterer. Only he doesn't look like a loiterer not in his suit or when he dresses down in smart Chino's and a his designer tops. He doesn't exactly smack of a man that is hanging around hotel entrances in a suspicious manner. Beside, he's got the gift of the gab that one, and he'd soon come up with something.

Or does he mean, waiting as in for me to end it with Sebastian and go running back into his arms? I seriously think Mark is delusional. How can a man ditch you months before a wedding, tell you that you're not the right fit? Then hook up with some other woman, move her into your house, your bed then tell you he wants you back. Also I am pretty pissed at myself for not changing my telephone number. Honestly, I didn't want all the hassle. The last person I'd expected to hear from again was Mark. I'm also fully aware that some men turn into stalkers. Okay, so it isn't gender specific, I realize women do too. Mostly when they are the jilted one. Under these circumstances I am the jilted one and should theoretically be the one stalking him on social media, his house, his place of work. Only I'm not because I spent six months feeling sorry for myself, bawling my eyes out on my best friend's shoulders and hiding away like a recluse.

I sit down on one of the white sofas and think. Should I respond and tell him to piss off and leave me alone? Should I simply ignore it, he'll just go away and besides I'm moving away in a few weeks in any case? Getting into conversation with Mark is not high on my agenda right now. In fact I just want out of New York. If he's still staying here I really don't want to bump into him again.

For now I'm going to ignore his message. Instead I press the icon for my American Airlines app and start browsing for flights back home to Chicago. There's nothing here for me right now anyway. I've done some sightseeing, I've got my publishing contract and I just want to be home with my folks and Zoe. The dinner tomorrow night with her and Nate will be lovely and I'm excited to see her again and watch her fawn all over her fella.

My phone beeps. Don't think I'm going to let you go just like that. You're mine, Ava. You were mine first. Wow, now he's giving me the creeps. I know you're ignoring me. You may as well get used to the idea that I'm not going to let you go. I'll be seeing you sooner thank you think.

Right, now he is creeping me out and I feel my chest is tightening. Should I let Sebastian know? Only what's he going to do, he's thousands of miles away? Or should I speak with Zoe first? I'm actually feeling pretty freaked out. You hear about it all the time about exes turning nasty and stalking the other person. This isn't what I'd imagined after he dumped me. I never for a second lead him on when we had coffee either. In fact I'd made it perfectly clear by simply walking out on him that it was over. Period. Full Stop.

My hands are shaking and I feel a cold sweat come over my body. Clearly I've read too many news articles, watched and read too many psychological thrillers that are adding to my angst. I'm here in New York, he knows where I am staying and sending me freaky messages. I decide to message Sebastian.

I've forwarded the messages to him and waiting for him to respond. My phone rings, it makes me jump. Shit, I'm jumpy as hell. "Hi." I say. I've not moved from the sofa in the suite.

"He's not going to get away with this, Ava." Sebastian's voice is stern. There is no warmth, his voice is like ice. I've never heard him use this tone before. But then he's probably never had to deal with a delusional man who is starting to act seriously threatening to the woman he's seeing. I remain quiet.

"Are you okay?

"Yeah, just a bit freaked out, that's all. I mean this is not like him at all." I lean back on the sofa and stare up at the ceiling, I still find it in me to admire the chandelier it looks like a thousand diamonds.

"I'm getting a detail on you outside your room. He'll not be able to get to you." Wow that all sounds a bit extreme for someone like Mark. I mean he's not actually done anything. Yet.

"Erm, don't you think that's a bit excessive?"

"I only care that you are safe, Ava. Trust me. There are some very nasty people out there and I'm taking a risk with your ex. His messages already alarm me. You're having the detail whether you like it or not. Get a flight home tonight and get out of the city. In fact I'll have a jet on standby for you so you don't have to go to the airport." I blow out some air and puff my cheeks. Frigging hell this is getting a bit out of hand. I'm not an ostentatious person and having a jet laid on for me, a driver, a detail – well it's movie kind of shit. Not what should be happening to a normal girl from a small town in Chicago.

"I don't want to hear anything else. The detail will be with you outside your door to the penthouse in ten minutes. I've messaged them already. You will hear a knock on the door. The elevator is private in any case and requires a private code, which he now has. At least we know if your ex is hanging around, he can't get to the penthouse. Get yourself ready, the jet leaves in forty-five minutes." There is such a sternness to his voice that actually despite everything, I'm finding myself getting aroused. Now is most definitely not the right time. I've gone from freaking out to wanting to sit on Sebastian's face in a few minutes.

"Are you listening to me, Ava. And when you're at home, your detail stays with you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, of course. I still think you're being dramatic."

"Think what you like. That's the end of it. Now let me know when you're on the damn jet. I love you." He hangs up. I'm left just staring at my phone. Is this really happening to me?

The knock on the door is strong, raising myself from the sofa I walk towards the door and open it. Outside is standing the largest man-mountain I have ever seen. He dwarfs my five-foot six frame. Has a head the size of a medicine ball, shoulders that look like he could single handedly take on an American football team and ice cold blue eyes. "Sebastian sent me." He says simply in what sounds like a deep southern accent.

"I won't be long. Just need to pack. Err, do you come in or wait outside?" Yes, dumb question I know. But hey, are you used to this because I'm certainly not? I have no idea what the protocol is.

"I wait outside ma'am." He turns so his back is now facing me, wow the widest shoulders I have ever seen. I feel like a dwarf. Crosses his hands one in front of the other in front of himself and stand with his feet roughly shoulder distance apart. Okay, this is all feeling very real now.

Without hesitating I dash into the spacious bedroom and start flinging my clothes from the wardrobe into my bag, grab my camera and portfolio then dash back into the open area to pick my mobile up from the sofa. Another message has come through.

I promise you, Ava. If it is the last thing I do. You will be mine and you'll never be able to get away.

He's one sick motherfucker.