Page 87 of Nyx

"Yes," I say. "Thank you for getting me here safely. Enjoy your time off."

I turn and walk toward the front door before I can get lost in his facial features or the way his jaw flexes when he's waiting for me to answer one of his questions.

I nod at the man standing out front before entering my access code and gaining entrance to the house.

"That man," Kayla says, a wide smile on her face, a second after I close and lock the door. "Does he have a brother?"

"I don't know," I tell her, the question making me realize I don't even know his name. Not his real one or the one the Cerberus men may call him.

He wasn't introduced to me at my interview, and I've been too wrapped up in my own life to even ask.

The rudeness hits me hard, making me wonder if he's annoyed that he has spent countless hours protecting me here at work and the last two nights sitting outside my apartment, and I haven't even bothered to ask his name. It makes me feel like a user, and that icky feeling has never sat right with me.

"Is he your boyfriend?" she asks, stepping closer to the door and peeking out the window beside it. "How long have you been together?"

"He's not my boyfriend," I assure her, walking toward the office so I can store my purse and get to work. "He's one of the guys who works security outside."

"He followed you this morning," she says, now standing in the doorway.

"I guess we were just getting here at the same time," I offer, keeping busy so I don't have to look up at her.

I've never been a good liar, and I'm always afraid people will see the truth in my eyes.

"He just left," she says. "And you guys had a long conversation when you arrived."

I look up at her, frustration growing inside me.

"I'm not aware of his schedule, Kayla."

She pulls her head back, noticing the change in my tone. Women who have been tiptoeing around abusive men tend to catch onto things like that, and I hate the look of surprise on her face.

"Did I do something wrong?"

I shake my head, running my hands over my face.

"I didn't sleep very well last night," I say, my response void of an apology because I don't feel as if I owe her one.

"Because of that guy?" she asks with a smirk.

"Definitely not," I reply.

"Too bad," she says, her nose scrunching up. "I wonder what life would be like if I had chosen someone like him rather than ending up with the man I got."

I don't agree with her or voice the fact that I have also wondered that myself.

"Wanna help with breakfast?" I ask.

"I don't think Andrea likes me," she mutters.

"That's absurd," I say. "Andrea likes everyone."

"Doesn't that Traci lady usually help?"

"She hasn't been feeling well the last couple of days," I tell her, waiting for her to clear the door so I can exit.

When she steps to the side, I walk past and head toward the kitchen.

"I think I'm going to head up to my room instead," she says, turning and walking in that direction.