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Time to face hell.
I slip out into the hallway and tip-toe toward the living room. The apartment is quiet and empty. It’s a beautiful place, the penthouse of a massive residential tower in the nicest part of the city. Hardwood flooring, modern windows, brand new and gleaming. It’s similar to William’s home, but without the old-world charm.
Ansell’s place is cold like an ice palace. Impersonal and perfectly clean. The furnishings are expensive, but minimal.
I sneak toward the elevator, heart racing. I don’t want to face him right now. I just want to leave and deal with the fallout and accept my fate.
I only hope he really won’t hold last night against Pride.
“Where are you going?”
I freeze near the elevator and slowly turn.
Ansell’s standing near the kitchen. He’s got a pot of coffee in one hand and he’s wearing a pair of loose black sweats and a tight white t-shirt that shows off his chiseled body. Tattoos snake up his arms and peek out from his chest. His eyes are sharp and narrow, his face cold and closed-off. The heat I saw last night is entirely gone.
“Home,” I say, hugging myself, mortified. I can’t believe I kissed him. It was an incredible kiss, a world-changing kiss, but maybe the stupidest thing I’ve done in my life.
Well, second stupidest.
“Not yet. Come have coffee.” He disappears back into the kitchen.
I stand there, torn. I can leave now. He’s not really stopping me. But his tone wasn’t a question, and I’m compelled to obey. I chew my lip and drift after, finding him pouring two mugs next to his gleaming silver appliances.
“Really, I should go. I’ve imposed enough.” I laugh awkwardly, looking away. “Last night was crazy. I’m so sorry you had to deal with all that stuff, but—”
“Come here.” He frowns at me over his shoulder and gestures.
I hesitate, but move closer. Is he going to kiss me again? Pull my hair? Fuck, what am I doing?
He nods at the refrigerator. The door is stainless steel and polished to a mirror-gleam. I look at myself and frown a bit, touching the bruise that’s forming on my lips. It looks even worse now than it did when I woke up twenty minutes ago.
“You can’t leave looking like that,” he says and sits down at the kitchen table. He sips his coffee black. “Someone will think I hit you if you’re seen leaving here.”
I take my mug and hold it. “I’m just going home.”
“You look like you got beaten. Someone might ask questions.”
“So what? I can tell the truth. I’ve already screwed up enough.”
He shrugs. “You can if that’s what you want, but imagine how this will look. You exit my apartment with a bruised lip? You might not want that level of scrutiny.”
“Why do you care?” The question comes out harsher than I expected.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t. And I don’t.”
“Then I’ll go.”
“They will kill you.” His face remains even and his voice is strong. “Stay here today. I’ll send someone for your things. Come into work with me on Monday, and from there, you’ll figure out what to do. That’s the best I can offer you.”
I stare at him, barely comprehending. Stay here for another day? He’s got to be crazy. Why would he want that? He’s already worried that I’ll drag him into this horrible situation, and he doesn’t want me leaving because someone might misconstrue my staying here, especially with this black eye.
And yet he has to know that keeping me around for longer is only going to make it worse.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” But I drift toward the table as he watches me.
“It’s a good idea for you, but a very bad one for me. Luckily, I don’t mind taking risks, especially where a family like the Crawfords are concerned.”
My lips twitched slightly thinking back to him knocking William to the ground with ease. “You seem to have a grudge against them.”
“Not them in particular, but their kind.”
“Rich people?”
“Spoiled, worthless scum.”
I laugh once, sharply. “You might say the same about me.”
He shrugs slightly. “And half the people that work at my company. I’m aware of the contradiction. But there’s a difference between having a father that worked hard to earn his station in the world and having a family that does nothing but leech off the money made by generations long dead. The Crawfords and their like with their absurd fortunes bring nothing to society. They’re a cancer on our world.”
I sink down in to the chair across from him. “That’s pretty intense coming from a guy as rich as you are.”
“I’m rich because I’ve worked hard and killed to be where I am.” That word, killed, echoes in my mind. I don’t think he means it as a metaphor. “William and the Crawfords are all weak and useless. It’s a stain on our society that we let them exist at all.”
