Page 99 of Choosing Us

He leans back and moves toward a chair against the opposite wall. “That’s honestly adorable. I know everything there is to know about Harlow Lane.”

I contract my abdomen muscles enough to sit up and scoot back to lean against the cold concrete wall, but it’s better than having my face on the floor. I need to keep him talking, and then I’ll try to figure out how the fuck to get out of here. “Oh, yeah? And what is that you think you know?”

“Well, I know there won’t be any trips to Iceland for you and Harlow. In fact, you won’t be going anywhere with her ever again.” My brows furrow as I replay the words in my head, not sure what this man is talking about until it clicks.

And a new wave of dread crashes over me.

“What…” I clear my throat that suddenly feels tighter. “What did you just say?”

“Iceland. The Northern Lights.” The man tilts his head, faint amusement in his eyes, as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “A surprise once-in-a-lifetime getaway, I believe you called it?”

How would he know that? I’ve only talked to Jack about it and that was just a few text messages.

“The Iceland trip? Ironic, really. It’s a dream for her.” His slow smile contradicts his cold, calculating eyes. “But for you, it’s delusional.”

That message to Jack was the same week my phone started acting up.

It wasn’t the software from the board compromising my device.

It was him.

He had access to my phone, to my texts, to … everything.

And worst of all? I made his access to Harlow easier. “You were in my phone.” I’m not asking him a question—it’s a statement of fact.

“Come now, Ryan, you’re still thinking too small. I mean, to be expected with you, but it’s not about just your phone. I’ve been everywhere.”

My teeth clench and I inhale deeply, trying to control my brewing rage. “Hacking information does not give you the right to anything, let alone her.”

The man huffs in annoyance, his bravado wobbling momentarily before his smug expression slips back into place. “You still don’t get it. Her dreams—like the woman herself—belong to me.”

While that statement is actually delusional, the reality is that so long as this guy is out there, Harlow will never be safe.

He adjusts his cuffs and picks at an invisible piece of lint. “She has been under my protection and care for years.”

The. Fuck.

“You don’t believe me?”

“How can I believe you when I don’t even know who you are?”

For the first time since I woke up, this man looks genuinely shocked. “What do you mean? Of course, you know who I am. Harlow has talked about me, and at great lengths, I’m sure. See? You don’t even listen to her. You don’t even know the people that are important in her life! And you think you get to marry her? No, that’s impossible. That simply will not do.”

“Why don’t we start with you telling me your name, and then I can tell you if Harlow has ever talked about you?”

“She talks about me!” he yells at the top of his lungs as spittle flies out of his mouth. “She appreciates me and sees me for who I am. We both know what it’s like to be overlooked by our parents. My own mother underestimated me. She never thought I was capable of pushing her back. But look who got that last laugh there.” He barks a short, frustrated laugh then runs his hands through his disheveled hair.

Okay, so he cares a lot about what Harlow thinks. That could be helpful.

He’s also crazy, which is … not helpful.

“I have known Harlow for years. I saw her long before anyone else did. She is brilliant, she is a genius, and most of all, she is mine.”

The man is wearing black dress slacks and a button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, but I’m almost positive I’ve never seen him before. He looks like someone you’d pass on any street in the country and not look twice.

I know Harlow has a lot of professional contacts and colleagues, but the people she actually considers friends are a very short list, and I know everyone on that list. And this psycho claiming my girl is his? He didn’t make the cut.

But … my girl.