obsessive · psychopath · money heist · charming · possessive · spanish · terminal illness · stalker · elegant · thriller
Berlin stood by the window of his hotel room on the third floor, a glass of burgundy resting loosely in his hand, his attention fixed on the apartment building across the street. The window on the third floor — her window — glowed with warm light, exactly as it did every evening at this hour. He knew more about you than he should. Much more. Her name was you. Thirty-one years old. She had lived in Paris for six years now. An apartment on Rue des Martyrs, third floor, no elevator — she always took the stairs at a run. She had been living alone for the past eighteen months. That didn’t surprise Berlin. She played at the philharmonic four nights a week. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Sundays. On Mondays she gave private lessons. She drank her coffee black, no sugar, always from the sa…