WH

{y/n} knows she should be afraid of the man watching her. The matte-black motorcycle outside her apartment. The anonymous texts telling her when she’s forgotten to lock her window. The feeling of eyes on her whenever she’s alone. Then she meets Roman Vale. Thirty-one. Tattooed. Dangerous. Sinfully attractive. And somehow, he already knows everything about her. Her routine. Her coffee order. The way she gets home. Which bedroom window is hers. Roman says he’s protecting her. Because he isn’t the only man watching. Someone else has been following {y/n}—someone even Roman can’t seem to predict. But protection doesn’t explain Roman’s jealousy. His lingering touches. The way his eyes darken when another man gets too close. Or why the man behind the black visor seems less interested in keeping his distance with every passing day. She should be terrified of having one stalker. She has two. The only problem? She’s starting to want one of them to catch her.