Ryan:Well, did you? Drive home?
And now my irritation was back. This was not his business! Or was he such a control freak that he even wanted to have a say over how I conducted my weekend arrangements?
Me:I took an Uber home.
Ryan:That was at least sensible.
I paused. Huh? This conversation was getting weirder by the minute. I typed a message back to him and sent it.
Me:Thanks. I guess.
There was another long pause and I stared at the screen, waiting for another message from him. I could see he was typing. But every now and then the typing would stop, and then start again. I waited for ages, but the long message never came through—clearly he had deleted it.
Ryan:Good night.
Me:Night.
Ryan:Make sure you lock your door. I can’t afford to lose my assistant.
My mouth fell open at that, and now I just wanted to rub him up the wrong way.
Me:Oh, I thought I might just leave my door completely open tonight.
Ryan:That’s not funny.
Me:I’m not trying to be funny.
Ryan:Your neighbors are dangerous. Lock your door.
Me:I’ll take that under advisement, Mr. Stark.
There was another long pause, but this time there was no typing. I wondered if I hadn’t pushed him too far this time? My phone finally lit up and I looked at it.
Ryan:Good night.
I stared at the message, expecting more to come through. Something snarky and angry and sarcastic. But it didn’t. I brought my fingers down to the keypad and let them hover over it. A part of me, the slightly alcohol-lubricated part, wanted to challenge him on all his strange behavior. I imagined typing a long message demanding to know why he was so Jekyll and Hyde. Why one minute he blew like a polar vortex and the next minute he seemed to, dare I say it, dare I eventhinkit . . .Care? Be a nice guy?But I didn’t say anything of the sort. Instead, I typed a measly good night back to him. I looked at my phone and waited for his response, but when it didn’t come, I dropped my phone on my bedside table and rolled over.
I stared up at my ceiling and looked at the crack that ran the length of it. It divided the entire ceiling into two very distinct halves. I wasn’t a structural engineer at all, but I was sure there shouldn’t be a crack like that across the ceiling. I smiled to myself. I better not get crushed by my ceiling. Wouldn’t want Ryan Stark to have to come over and pick his assistant out of the rubble, that would be very inconvenient for him.
CHAPTERFORTY-SIX
Poppy
It was 10 a.m. and I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth when I heard the noise. I was cursing the fact that I’d woken up this early on a Sunday in the first place.
“What the hell?” I stuck my head out of the bathroom and looked at my front door. The noise was coming from behind it. I crept towards the noise tentatively and stared at the door. I could see the shadow of feet underneath it, and it was vibrating! My door was vibrating and shaking and a strange buzzing noise was coming from outside of it.
Crap! Someone was clearly trying to break in. I ran into my kitchen and grabbed the first knife I could find. I crept towards the door and the strange noise continued. My heart pounded in my chest and I remembered Ramona’s karate training. I reached for the door handle and took a deep breath.
“In three, two, one . . .” I counted loudly and gave myself a small encouraging nod before turning the handle and swinging the door open.
“I’VE CAUGHT YOU, YOU FUCKER!!!” I screamed and waved the knife in the air, only to come face-to-face with Ryan. Ryan Stark was standing on the other side of my door with a drill in his hand.
A drill?
“What the hell are you doing here?” I blinked a few times in disbelief. “What are you . . . I mean, why are you . . .?” I stuttered and stumbled over my words, looking down at his feet where a large tool box sat. I pointed at it. “Why you? With that?” I looked at my door again and noted that a big, brass lock was now attached to it. “You did this?” I pointed at the lock and then looked back at him.
What was wrong with him?He was staring at me. Jaw open, eyes about to pop out of his head, almost standing out on stalks like in those cartoons. He wasn’t even blinking, for heaven’s sake.
