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Limiting contact with them had been hard. Being in a new place where I didn’t know anyone was difficult enough, but only sending the odd email and making one phone call every couple of weeks was so far away from what I was used to. And to think it was all for nothing: he’d found me anyway. I feel so pissed off and cheated.
“So, what now?” I ask, deflated.
“I can put a car outside your building for a few hours, but to be honest, there isn’t much we can do at this stage.”
“Great,” I mumble, my voice glum. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate you coming out here…” My voice trails off as I realize I didn’t catch his name.
“Conrad,” he replies smoothly.
Chapter Two
I open my eyes and wince as I try and sit up, pain searing through my neck. Sleeping on the sofa hadn’t exactly given me a restful night’s sleep, but I was fucked if I was going to sleep in that bed, no matter how many times I washed it.
The first thing I do is order a new mattress, to be delivered this morning. On my way out, I let the doorman know to expect it, resisting the urge to ask him where the hell he was yesterday. What was the point in moving into one of the most secure places in the fucking city if anyone could get in and out?
Calm down. The cop told you he most likely came through the fire escape window. Then why leave via the door? Was that his way of showing me what he is capable of?
Frustrated, I walk outside, glancing up and down the street before I head for my car. Annoyingly, my three thousand a month in rent apparently doesn’t allow for a parking garage within the same building as my apartment. They had more apartments than spaces, meaning they put me in one of their sister complexes two blocks down.
When I finally make it to my car, I slump into the front seat and rev it up, praying she’s going to start. She does, and I cheer. Every day is a gamble as to whether my car will get me to and from work, which is not ideal considering my hours have me leaving work in the middle of the night—or the fact that I have a madman after me. One thing I know is a must is to have a reliable car. Unfortunately, that requires money—something I’m pretty short of after my cross-country move.
Pushing my long, dark hair out of my face, I tie it back with a band and then reverse out of my parking spot. My work isn’t far away, but far enough to make walking uncomfortable—especially when you’re as unfit as I am.
**
“Hey, Raven.”
Billy, one of the guys I work with, smiles at me. I smile back, my guard staying up like it does in all interaction with the opposite sex. It sucks analyzing everyone, wondering if they’re my stalker, and it makes friendships in a new town damn near impossible. My heart pangs as I miss Carmel and my other friends from back home.
“Hey, Billy. How are you?” I ask, trying my best to be friendly.
“Yeah, good. How are you settling in?”
We engage in small talk for a few minutes until it’s acceptable for me to slink away. I don’t want to come across as rude, but my anxiety levels are sky high. I make my way down to the staffroom, where I dump my stuff in my locker and change into my uniform. It takes me a good five minutes to push my way into the skin-tight black leggings and fitted black corset that make my uniform. I gather my hair behind my head, fastening it with a clip, and put on a little lip gloss and mascara. Satisfied with my reflection in the small mirror fixed to the inside of my locker, I head out to start my shift.
I’ve been working as a suit at an exclusive club in Karim since I moved here two months ago. If you’re wondering what a suit is, think secret service. My job is to blend in with the clientele and make sure everything is running as it should. Anything out of the ordinary I report to security for them to deal with. Most of the time I enjoy my job and disturbances are
pretty rare.
Most of my shifts are spent ensuring the private rooms are being used appropriately. Not that they have any rules at the club other than keeping your mouth shut, but they are very serious about making sure everybody is safe. Tonight, I’m on the top floor. I exit the elevator and walk around the perimeter of the space, doing my best to blend in with the clients.
Ninety-nine percent of my nights go by uneventfully. I don’t do much other than be aware if a problem arises. I love it and hate it because it gives me time to think. Some nights I’d prefer something would happen just to distract myself from my own mind.
I make my way down toward the bar in the far corner of the club. I stand back, watching a couple of guys trying to smooth-talk an attractive woman with long, dark hair. The way she’s flipping her hair all over the place, I can tell she’s enjoying being the center of attention. It doesn’t take long before one of the men is leading her to a private room with the other guy trailing closely behind. A hint of a smile on my lips, I focus my attention on another couple. I can tell right away that they’re married.
Every now and then the woman leans over and whispers to her partner, nodding in the direction of a female. It clicks what they’re here for, and when her eyes lock with mine, I smile politely and move on. It’s not the first time a member has mistaken me for another member. As a suit, the point is to blend in, but sometimes blending in can create its own set of problems.
After my shift, I head back to my apartment. It’s nearly five a.m. and the sun is just coming up. The best shifts in the world are the ones that have me home after the sun has risen. There’s nothing worse than walking the few minutes from my parking lot to my apartment complex when I can’t see who is around me. I always think the worst. Sometimes I convince myself I’m being followed when I know there’s nobody around.
When I’m safely inside my apartment, I check that all the doors are locked and forgo my usual nightcap. I’m tired and craving a good night’s sleep. It takes me a few minutes to make my new bed, but even then, lying where I know he’s been makes my skin crawl. After a few more minutes tossing and turning, I take my blankets and pillow back out to the sofa.
At least I’ll get some sleep out here.
Chapter Three
The knock on the door the following afternoon is unexpected, especially since the doorman is supposed to alert me to any visitors. I grab a shirt to cover up my sports bra and walk over to the door. A quick look through the peephole tells me it’s Conrad. A shiver races through me, taking me by surprise. Sure, he’s hot, young, and the spitting image of Liam Hemsworth, but I’m not usually one to go gooey over guys.
Opening the door, I can’t help but smile when he holds up a coffee.
