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And I didn't look back.
Chapter 5
Kaleb
Two days was all it took to track her down.
And to think all it took was some light Instagram stalking and technical sleuthing and here I was. Forty minutes out from under my polished cave of a mansion, staring at a demolished atrocity of a Chinese food shack that somehow doubled as an apartment complex. I mean with skills like these you mine as well fucking call me Heather and buy me some Nike air force ones to pair with my Instagram bitch personality.
I nearly laughed, it was embarrassingly easy to find her.
Silly Goldilocks was a basic fool if she thought she could run away and I’d let her get away with it. Even if a part of me reveled in the fact that she had left. That someone had disobeyed me so openly.
So recklessly.
It had been a while since someone chose to toy with my decisions. But unlucky for Blondie, the bigger part of me, mainly the prick that ruled my mind, was angry as fuck.
I mean, it had only taken one look at the security footage my guys showed me to fuel my anger into something else entirely. The subway's black and white footage was now on a constant loop in my mind.
No, I decided, I was not angry. I was pissed.
And when I was pissed, the monster in me came out to play.
So yes, here I was. Currently double-parked outside the little devil's apartment. My black Ford one fifty obnoxiously taking over half the road and blocking essential traffic. As if I gave a flying fuck about self-absorbed pedestrians and their work vendettas.
I propped my black Timberland-clad feet onto my dash. A blunt dangling in my fingers as I took another sip of the orange sherbet sludge Jamba Juice was scamming millions into thinking was the equivalent of a “fruit smoothie”.
Who knew you could make millions selling literal blended fruit guts, I thought while patiently waiting for the little blonde pixie to get out of dance class.
Yes, I knew her fucking schedule. I knew everything about the feisty girl that had barged into my life like a bloody siren two nights ago. It was my job to know things about my enemies. And lucky for Blondie, she had just made it to the top of my list.
Rose Levington.
If I had my journal, her name would be written in all caps on the front page.
I mean the universe was already working against the leather-clad pixie. The girl was named after a flower of all things. Not even a particularly original one. Not to mention the scent made me want to gag. If I wanted to drown in rose eau de perfume, I’d take an hour drive west to my Aunt Jennifer’s house in the Hamptons.
So, I’d say me showing up was the icing on the shit show cake that was my little Rose’s life. And according to my calculations, said shit cake should be ready to blow at five o’clock sharp. Right when silly little dance class wrapped up for the day.
Speaking of which, it looked like the innocent flower was right on time.
I smirked as my eyes spotted her, traveling up and down her black leotard, taking in her pink tight clad legs and worn pink slippers dangling from her fingers.
Such an innocent little tiny dancer.
Time for me to do what I do best and ruin the fun.
Slamming my car door, I followed her. The walk wasn’t long. The studio was only about a block and a half away from her garbage dumpster excuse of an apartment. I mean, the girl couldn’t have worse living arrangements if she tried. The place was practically falling apart and we weren’t even up close yet.
What a perfectly imperfect disaster for a very naughty Goldie Locks.
The thought simultaneously brought a smile to my face and made my stomach twist.
It wasn’t long before she unlocked her door. Her keys turned in the lock, and my opportunity presented itself as I very inconveniently shoved my boot in the doorway (Well, inconvenient for Blondie, the shoving of my foot was actually very much convenient for me. Although it hurt like a bitch.).
“We need to talk, Blondie.” She jumped, her dance bag slamming on the floor. Turning, she took me in, Bambi eyes widening as she recognized the very real devil in her doorway.
“You,” she said.
