Because You're Mine_Psychological Thriller Read online

  Because You’re Mine

  Marin Montgomery

  Contents

  Copyright

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  About Marin Montgomery

  Copyright

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  COVER DESIGN: LOUISA MAGGIO

  EDITING: BOOKTIQUE EDITING

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permission Coordinator” at the address below.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Description

  When Levin Crowdley stumbles upon evidence that suggests her adoring fiancé is behind the murder of her childhood best friend, she knows fleeing from him is the only way to stay alive.

  But Alec won’t be left that easily.

  In fact, nobody has ever left him and lived to tell.

  The moment Alec finds their dream home empty and Levin’s engagement ring lying in the crib he’d purchased for the baby he intended to have with her, he knows she’s gone, and she knows something.

  And so he does what he has to do.

  He pursues her.

  He hunts her down like a dog chasing a rabbit.

  And the second he catches her, he’s never letting go.

  ’Til death do them part.

  This book is dedicated to my childhood friend, now my mentor, who has been with me through every significant passage in my life. The comfort of having a friend who has watched you grow in life, both in age and in enlightenment, is a rare find.

  “Toodles,” thanks for being a lifelong friend.

  Chapter One

  Levin

  I’m leaving today, but I should’ve left yesterday.

  My bags are packed and loaded haphazardly in the backseat and trunk of my rental car which is parked down the street.

  I’m sitting on my bed wringing my hands in nervous anticipation as the shower spews water from the bathroom, then slows to a trickle as it shuts off.

  My plan to leave him is complicated, not unlike my fiancé. He isn’t good at letting people go.

  The diamond on my ring finger feels heavy—almost as weighted as his proposal.

  The reason for leaving is decidedly divergent from why most people leave their significant other. There’s no cheating that I know about. He didn’t physically hit me. Yet, his abuse is the worst form—slow and painful.

  It crept up on me little by little—snide comments that got under my skin or a suggestion here and there that wasn’t a suggestion but a loaded recommendation.

  According to him, my ass could be rounder or my stomach could be flatter. He doesn’t call me ‘fat,’ he just plants the seed that I can use improvement.

  So, he hired me a personal trainer.

  He wants my hair longer. It’s not growing fast enough. He insists on extensions. The copper-colored, chin-length hair is now past my shoulders.

  The Target and Old Navy brand clothing I used to wear, he throws out. For the masses, he says I need to be ‘unique.’ My clothes are selected by him. He says my wardrobe is a reflection of him.

  Boobs? He wants them bigger. He’s always pointing out women who have boobs he considers the ‘perfect’ size. I put my foot down and refuse to get plastic surgery. He pushes but finally recants… because now he wants a baby.

  That isn’t the worst part. All of this is superficial.

  I discovered he was involved in my best friend’s murder.

  Each minute with Alec is torture. My nights are a restless combination of tossing and turning and staring at the clock, the red numbers a reminder of each passing minute I’m under his thumb.

  When he looks at me, my heart palpitations seem to boom like a loudspeaker announcing my intentions to leave. Does he know I know? How much longer can I pretend before this secret eats me alive, and I put my own life at risk?

  Eric’s will had put me in a tailspin. He cut Alec out entirely. I’m the sole beneficiary, only my spouse and children will have access to the money.

  It’s made me question if Alec loves me or is looking for deep pockets.

  I’m impatient as I wait for him to get out of the shower and finish grooming his body.

  If you asked him, he would tell you in no uncertain terms that he’s a work of art with a gorgeous topography. Alec’s jet-black hair matches his eyes, and some would argue his soul.

  I was scared to live with him, yet more terrified to leave him.

  Until today.

  All I could think about was Eric McGrath, my childhood best friend and Alec’s business partner, who suddenly passed a year ago. The police said suicide. Eric was found hanging in his bedroom closet, his belt wrapped around his neck. That story hadn’t seemed plausible. Eric hadn’t seemed depressed when I had spoken to him a few days before his death.

  It wasn’t until Eric’s death that I met Alec in person at his funeral. If you ask me, a great place to meet your soulmate! Eric and Alec had been business partners in a real estate development company.

  I shake my head in disgust as I think back to the funeral, and the way Alec had sat and stared at the closed casket, a look of pretend disbelief on his face. The pure evil of him as he sat with Eric’s parents and looked devastated, thick tears sliding down his cheeks.

  Eric’s parents introduced me to Alec, crumpled tissues in hand. Alec and I had crossed paths once or twice via FaceTime or when I called Eric�
�s office to chat, but I had moved overseas to Europe to do some backpacking and soul-searching and had been a virtual stranger for the year before his death.

  But now, the only stranger in the house is Alec Durant, my fiancé.

  Chapter Two

  Alec

  If I’m late for my 8:00 a.m. appointment with Tad Johnson, an investor from Utah, I’m blaming Levin. She had tossed and turned last night, and it had kept me awake. She must be anxious, as she’s only restless when she has something on her mind. Whatever the issue, it would have to wait. I would ask her later after I took care of business.

  With my morning shower and shave complete, I exit the bathroom and find Levin perched on the bed wringing her hands.

  I glance at my Breitling and then at her. Weird. It’s after 7:00 a.m. Typically, she works out with her trainer at 7:30 before heading to the animal shelter to save one more underprivileged beast from their demise.

  The outfit was also off. She wasn’t wearing workout clothes today. Her clothing choice is suspect—no sign of Lululemon athleisure wear. The new tan Burberry handbag and flowered Alice + Olivia dress were much too dressy for even a casual day at the office. Levin didn’t work outside the home, so this was odd.

  “What’re you doing?” I ask.

  Levin isn’t paying attention to me. She’s lost in her thoughts.

  “Levin?” I snap my fingers.

  She glances up shocked to see me standing in front of her. She swallows hard.

  “What?” Her voice sounds small and far away even though I’m standing three inches from her face.

  “I asked what you were doing.” I give her a hard stare exhaling through my nose. “You’re dressed like you’re skipping the gym today.” I reach down and grab her chin, “And I hope that isn’t the case. I know how irritable you get when you miss a day of Barre.”

  Levin knows my strict requirements for any woman I date—especially my future bride. I require that she have a personal trainer and a nutritionist to prepare our meals.

  Manicures, pedicures, and facials were a part of the lifestyle, and she never balked at the amount of time it took for her to learn how to apply her makeup just perfectly or have her hair blown out to my specifications.

  The fact of the matter is I love spoiling and dressing her up like a doll. She has a desirable figure—B-cup tits and a small waist with long legs. I have no problem taking credit for the woman she’s become. I also have no issue with improving upon her physique.

  She’s my trophy, my most prized possession. Due to my line of work, it’s paramount that the woman on my arm reflects class and poise, and a certain, shall we say, richness. Exclusivity.

  Exclusively mine, to be specific.

  Her appearance must be custom-tailored to match my custom-made lifestyle.

  “No gym this morning.” She fakes a yawn. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “I could tell.” I smooth down her long, shiny, brunette hair. “You kept me up in the process.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbles, half-hearted, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

  “Still doesn’t explain why you’re overdressed on a Monday.”

  “I’m going to go have breakfast with a potential client.” Her voice is stilted.

  “I thought we already discussed you working outside the house.” I pinch her cheek. “We decided no.”

  “You decided that.” She rolls her eyes at me. “It doesn’t matter, it’s just a meeting.”

  I didn’t like her tone, but I had to let it go. I gave her a warning look and stepped back. My meeting with some potential clients had me sidetracked, and that’s my priority this morning.

  I couldn’t wait for the kill.

  “The thrill of the kill” had been my tagline since my earliest days in real estate. There was nothing that got me off more than closing deals.

  And the right woman.

  Levin’s lying to me. I know it.

  When someone lies to me, I love the art of catching them—the amusement as they trip over their words to try to find a new direction to take their dishonesty.

  It isn’t as fun with my fiancée, especially when it involves her lying to me.

  However, this would have to wait until later.

  I switch topics since the conversation of her having a job outside the home is ridiculous. There’s no point in arguing it. I said no. My mind isn’t changing.

  I decide on a new tactic.

  “Baby?” I change the tone in my voice.

  “Hmm?” She looks bothered.

  “I have a thing tonight, a dinner. Bradshaw’s, 8:00 p.m. I need you there.”

  “Tonight?” She frowns. “But you know I volunteer at the animal shelter on Mondays.”

  Her and the damn animals of the world and her plans to save them all.

  “You can’t.” It comes out brusque, more so than intended. “I’ll have a driver pick you up at seven. If you have to volunteer, do it this morning, but change your outfit.”

  “Client names?” She sighs.

  “Tone.” I prod her. “This is what pays the bills and makes you look like a million bucks.”

  Her face softens. She stands up from the bed.

  I cup her neck and kiss her—once on the cheek and once on the mouth. She recoils.

  What the fuck is going on? This moping around the house has got to stop. She’s got too much time on her hands. Time for the next progression in life.

  “Yes, Al, I’ll be there.”

  She knows calling me ‘Al’ is akin to calling me Alvin, my real name.

  Levin is trying to annoy me, but I don’t have the time or energy to engage, though the thought of rough sex crosses my mind.

  I decide against it. There’s nothing like mixing passion and anger for heated and carnal desire, but money calls.

  “Baby, get to the gym.” My hands circle her waist. “You need to release some tension…” I kiss her neck, “And don’t worry, I’ll release some for you later.”

  I slap her tight ass and walk out of the bedroom.

  Still, something is off. It’s not just her behavior that’s alarming—she can be moody at times like all women.

  I realize as I grab an apple from the fridge that there are hardly any groceries left. Most of yesterday was spent at work, but grocery shopping was done by Levin for our week ahead on Sundays.

  Clearly, she didn’t make it to the store. Our cook usually told her ahead of time what was needed for meal prep, and she would bring home the items for them to put together today.

  That was odd.

  I swipe my keys off the counter on my way out.

  Heading into the garage, I notice a piece of our Louis Vuitton luggage is missing.

  Weird.

  Her Range Rover is unlocked. I check the backseat and trunk.

  Nothing.

  I didn’t have any idea why she would put luggage in my vehicle, but I open the trunk of my A7 for confirmation.

  Still nothing.

  I start to turn around and head back inside when my cell phone shrills, my 8:00 a.m. client’s name flashing across the screen.

  Shit. I have to take this. The man is flying in from Utah to look at building a hospital on some prime real estate, and I stand to make a pretty penny if all goes well.

  My pulse is pounding in my ear.

  I hit the ‘accept’ button my phone, take a deep breath, and answer, a tension headache starting to build at the base of my neck.

  Levin is up to something, and it’s no good.

  If she wanted a head start, she’s going to get it.

  Chapter Three

  Levin

  I smooth my dress and hair as Alec walks out of the bedroom, my hands shaking. The garage door motor creaks as he and his silver Audi pull out into the street.

  A month ago, he’d purchased me a candy-apple red Range Rover that was sitting on the other side of the garage. It would continue to sit there, just a reminder of me.

  I didn’t trust him. I di
dn’t trust it didn’t have a tracking device on it.

  Alec would inadvertently mention details concerning my day that I hadn’t shared with him. A pattern would start to materialize after I would talk on the phone with the few friends I stayed in touch with.

  The guilty look would creep onto his face after he gave himself away, his lips pressed down hard as if he could keep the words from spewing out of his mouth.

  Cameras had started to appear in various locations around the house. Video surveillance can be necessary in some places—not in our bathroom or office. Privacy shrouded Alec’s personal life, but my life with him is examined under a microscope aka his watchful eyes.

  My Chevy Impala rental was parked two houses down in front of the Miller’s, rented under the name of a close friend I’d met at the gym—one hell-bent on helping me escape Alec’s clutches. Lucky for me, Alec had never met her, never even heard of her. She didn’t travel in our circle. She didn’t have fake tits, drive a Benz, or fashion herself an accessory on a rich man’s arm. She was just a fellow gym-going mom with an approachable smile and a heart of gold—the kind of woman Alec would walk past and not think twice about.