The cold light of day doesn’t bring the answers I hoped it would. All it brings is a headache from crying myself to sleep and an aching body from where that asshole plowed into me, neither of which ease after I take pain relief with my extra-large morning coffee.
Saturdays are normally my errand day. I buy my groceries, clean my apartment, and then I sit down on my couch and watch sappy rom-coms until I fall asleep. But the idea of stepping out the front door makes my stomach revolt. If I leave, they might come back. But then, wouldn’t it be worse if I were here when they arrived?
A violent shudder racks through my body, and I lean back in my seat at the dining table. I can’t bring myself to move because that would mean making a decision, and that’s not something I can do. What I should do is tell the Saint James family the truth. They can protect me, and I think they would. Doubt creeps in through the anxiety. Why would they help me? I’m just Wynter’s personal assistant. Even if they’ve taken a chance on this short-term promotion, there’s no saying they actually care about me and my life.
A knock at the door makes me jolt and a wave of nausea hits me like a truck. Oh god. I should have more time, right? People don’t normally come out of the woodwork after years of being on the run, leave a note one night and then just show up at the front door the next morning…right?
Before I can spiral too far, a key in the door makes my stomach drop, but I’m rooted to the spot. I can’t move. No matter how much I scream at my body to get up, to hide, nothing happens.
“It’s just me, fawn,” Tommy’s voice rings through the apartment and something inside me settles. I shouldn’t feel safe with him, not when I know his reputation and the amount of blood he has on his hands, and yet my body relaxes anytime he’s nearby. It’s wrong and fucked up, but I can’t help but lean into the feeling after a restless night.
He rounds the corner into the kitchen with two takeaway coffees and a smile that seems out of place. I wouldn’t call him a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, but from the outside looking in, that must be how he seems.
His eyes lock on me and the smile on his face drops immediately. “Clara?”
I look down and notice my vise grip on the edge of the dining table and the way my other hand curls around my mug so tight my knuckles turn white. The tension in my body is so tight it hurts, but I can’t bring myself to release it. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I was giving you last night to wrap your head around things, and now I’m here to continue our chat.” He shrugs and places one of the coffees in front of me. “Double shot, macchiato with coconut milk and vanilla syrup.” He recites my coffee order like he’s done it a thousand times before, but I’m still too stunned to ask him how the hell he knows that. “You gonna tell me why you look like you’re about to have a heart attack?”
“You just broke into my apartment…again!” I shout. It’s the truth, even if logically, I should have known it was him, especially considering his parting words to me last night.
“It’s not breaking in when you have a key.” He winks, pulling out the chair beside me and lowering himself slowly into it. He moves with more grace than you would expect of a serial killer, but then again, I suppose you have to have a certain level of stealth to catch people by surprise.
“It is when I didn’t give you said key.”
“Semantics.” He shrugs. “Now, you and I both know you’re not holding on to the table for dear life because I’m here, so how about we try again?”
“How did you know my coffee order?”
He sighs and takes a long drink of his own coffee. “I don’t think you’re ready for the answer to that question.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m ready for, Tommy. You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“So it would seem,” he murmurs. “Every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me.”
“What’s that even supposed to mean? God, you’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.” I push myself up from my seat and round the island in the middle of the kitchen. It’s better there’s something solid between us because every time he gets close, my mind seems to shut down, something I cannot afford right now. I have enough complications. I don’t need to add the likes of Tommy to the trash heap that is my life.
“I find that hard to believe.” He chuckles but makes no move from where he’s perched at the dining room table.
I roll my eyes. “I feel like I keep throwing you out of here, and yet here you are again.”
He watches me closely, the deep blue following me each time I fidget in my place. He’s assessing every move I make, and for some reason, my skin heats under his intense stare. I shouldn’t be affected by a man like him because I swore off all men, but especially ones that can burn me like I’m sure Tommy can. “Have you stopped to consider why it is that I keep coming back?”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Because the reality is, I haven’t stopped to think about that at all. I’ve thought about why he may have been here that first day when I was almost hit by that car, but aside from that, there’s been very little thought about the why.
“Perhaps that’s where you should start, fawn.” He looks down at his phone buzzing on the table and a small smile tugs at his lips. “Wynter had her baby.”
I fumble in my oversized sweater pocket until I find my own phone and read the text myself. Tears of joy fill my eyes at the image on the screen. Wynter holds a tiny bundle in her arms, the biggest smile on her face as she looks down at her baby, and Everett with his arms wrapped around his two girls, unable to tear his stare of awe from Wynter.
Wynter: Summer Elizabeth Masters born this morning at 7am. We’re all doing great and Everett has growled at every nurse who comes near us.
I choke on my laugh because I’m not surprised. That little girl is going to be so loved she won’t ever know what it’s like to grow up without affection.
“I’m praying for the first boy that tries to take her on a date.” Tommy chuckles and I’m caught by the sound. It’s deep and rough, so innately him, but fuck if it doesn’t tug at something deep inside me, something I wish I could turn off.
I shake my head and type out a quick message of congratulations before placing my phone down on the counter. The second it touches the cool marble, it starts vibrating again with a call and I smile. Surely it’s not Wynter making sure I haven’t burned down the company’s financials in the last twelve hours.
“Hello?”
“Hello, daughter.”
His cold voice makes the blood in my veins turn to ice. Dread washes over me at the two simple words, but I shouldn’t be surprised he has my phone number. After all, somehow, he got into my apartment last night, so is it really so far-fetched for him to know how to reach me?
I don’t realize Tommy has moved until his calloused hand brushes against my hand on the counter. The touch startles me, but it also allows me to breathe. Something so simple gives me the ability to drag in a breath through the panic that assaults every fiber of my being.
“Cat got your tongue, Clara?” He sneers and I clench my eyes shut. This can’t be happening. I’ve been so careful. I’ve hidden in plain sight. I’ve stayed under the radar despite my employers being high profile. I’ve done everything right.
“What do you want?” I whisper, not trusting my voice not to break.
“What I want is for you to tell that tattooed asshole to get out of your apartment so we can talk without prying ears.”
I look up at Tommy, whose nostrils flare with barely contained anger, but his touch on my hand remains gentle. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Well I have enough to say for the both of us,” he snaps. “Tell him to leave, or I’ll make him leave myself.”
Tommy holds out his hand for the phone, but I shake my head. Nothing good can come from him talking to my father, the very person who has the ability to tear my whole life out from under me…again.
