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“Screw this.” I fling open her closet door, pull out her large luggage, and roll it into my shithole of a room. In minutes, I’ve filled it up. I run to the kitchen and grab some garbage bags. If I’m going to be homeless, I might as well do it right.
Marching into my room again, I kneel and start to toss all my shoes into the black Hefty bag when I feel him. Sniffing, I lift my head and stare right into his eyes.
“Let’s go.”
We stare at each other, his eyes unreadable while mine are probably wild. I stand.
“What happened?”
“I took care of it.”
His eyes trail over my body and for the first time all day, I realize I probably look crazy in my black leggings and short black dance top. I go to at least put my hair up in a messy bun when his voice stops me.
“No. I like it down. And put on a shirt.” His gravelly voice has an almost melodic sound to it, and I wonder if it’s true that he knows Rhys Granger.
“Oh.” My hands drop as I wipe them on my legs. “I need to get my bathroom stuff.”
I blink at him, trying to stop my heart from racing in my chest. I’m a professional dancer and it seems like my heart beats faster when he’s around than when I train.
“I have all that stuff.” He’s not being rude, but he’s speaking in a tone that I guess people simply obey.
“Look, I know I asked for your help but… you don’t have to act like this,” I snap right back. “You fired me. Had you not, I would be able to pay my asshole landlord money and I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
He frowns, and I take a step back. Suddenly it dawns on me that I know nothing about this man other than he’s gorgeous and might be a drug dealer and a murderer.
“But you don’t have any money and you do need me.” His warm breath is almost like a caress on my cheek. He’s too close and the room suddenly feels too small. I take a step back. Honestly I don’t even know I’m doing it until the bag slips from my hand.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper, my mind finally registering that I had the cops call a killer to protect me. Naively I believed that no one who looks like him can be all that bad. Now I’m not so sure. What if I go with him and he kills me? Or rapes me? No, that’s stupid. If he intended to rape me, he would already have done it at the club, right?
“You scared of me, Antoinette?”
I jump at his voice, not because he’s loud, but because he knows I’m scared. If I don’t pull myself together, I’ll hyperventilate.
“No,” I lie—I’m terrified for plenty of reasons.
His eyes caress my face and he smiles as if he’s the devil himself and my heart skips a beat. I can’t think straight. No one could if they were graced with a smile like his. So, I say the first thing that pops into my mind.
“I need my birth control pills.”
Holy God.
What is wrong with me? I want to die, let the room swallow me up, so I can sink into the floor and dissolve.
“Oh my God—” I stutter as I move away and break his spell on me. Or maybe my craziness broke it, but whatever… it’s gone. I turn to run into my bathroom. If I lock myself in, will he leave?
No doubt he’ll leave, and I don’t want him to leave me. I swallow down my humiliation and with shaky hands grab my makeup bag, dropping my deodorant and my birth control into it. I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen. Apparently without them, I’d rarely have a period. My aunt had me examined when I moved in with her after the tragedy. She was upset that a girl my age had not had a period yet. The doctor explained that with as much dancing as I do and my low level of body fat, I was not ovulating.
Hence the pill.
Like a robot, I look around for anything else I might need. Nothing but unneeded stuff, and something tells me I should hurry. He said he’ll send guys, so I guess I need to trust him.
Axel’s back is to me as I come out of my room dragging Bella’s giant suitcase. His black leather vest makes me take a deep inhale, because no matter how I try to convince myself that he’s not a bad guy and only a regular boss at a club, I know he’s not. He’s dangerous and I’m mortified that I like that.
I like it a lot.
The large Disciples patch with the same wings and a dagger I saw tattooed on his chest is a reminder that he’s out of my league.
