Page 81 of Blackmail


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“I called and said you’d be out.” Sin stands up and stretches, then wanders toward the kitchen. “Go shower. I’ll find clean clothes. You’re staying here for the next twenty-four hours.”

“The fuck I am.”

“Doctor’s orders. Even if you can stand up long enough to shower, you’re in no shape to drive.”

“I’m fine.”

He pokes his head out of the kitchen and taps his temple. “That guy rang your bell. You have a concussion. You’re not even supposed to sleep for longer than three hours without somebody waking you up to be sure you’re still alive.”

“Who the hell has time for that?”

“Same person who had time last night.” Sin gives me a pointed look, the bastard. “I’m a little offended, Will. I was up with you every three hours, and all you wanted to talk about was Bristol.”

23

BRISTOL

There’s a scale,you know?

There’sbadlike wondering if your boss is going to fire you because he found out you stole fifty thousand dollars from his company. Andbadlike wondering if your boss is going to fire you because he wants to prove that you mean nothing to him.

There’sbadlike wondering if your boss is going to make you get on your knees in the conference room in front of a bunch of strange men, andbadlike wondering if your boss is going to die from wounds he sustained in a mystery fight.

There’sbadlike only having five days left to pay him back, andbadlike his office sitting empty for two of them while you wait and worry.

The waiting should be over tomorrow morning, at least. Will sent a company-wide email this afternoon saying he’d be back in the office tomorrow morning.

It’s not soon enough.

I felt awful for sending him away with his brother after he showed up at my apartment. Guilt gnawed at me the rest of the night. I couldn’t sleep. I kept checking my phone, hoping for updates, but there weren’t any.

Who would think to text me? Not Sinclair, Will’s dark-haired brother. He at least agreed that someone with a medical license should check to see if Will had taken surgery-level damage. They went out the door to apartment 306 while Will insisted he’d never felt better.

“Oh, really?” Sinclair pulled Will out into the hall just before the door closed. “That why your pupils are different sizes and you can’t keep track of the conversation?”

“What conversation?” Will said.

The bus bumps to a stop, brakes squealing. I climb off and head around the bus shelter.

I don’t know if I believe that Will is going to be in his office. He washurt.People don’t bounce back from that level of bruising and blood in two days.

I frown at the courtyard, with its bumpy, ruined concrete and the ancient, net-less basketball hoop, but I’m seeing Will at the door. He didn’t seem surprised to be hurt the way he was. He seemed resigned to it. Almost relieved.

The bottom of my heart pinches. I wish I could have taken him to the doctor myself. I wish I could have asked more questions.

I wish I understood.

Building C’s door swings smoothly on the frame when I pull it open. Somebody that Will hired probably oiled the hinges. They replaced the kickplate, too.

Old habit makes me turn toward the stairs, but no. The elevator works now. Because of Will Leblanc. I push the call button and the doors open to let me on.

That’s the screwed-up part, right? That I want to understand how he won a fight and still looked completely battered. I want to know what makes Will, the wealthiest person I’ve ever met, react to a hug like a hornet sting.

I want to see him.

I’ve wanted to see him since the door of 306 closed behind him. Wanted it so much that heat builds behind my eyes every time I think about him.

My life is always about decisions like that. The lesser of two evils. The more sensible of situations that aren’t sensible at all. I’m used to giving things a chance. I’m used to forging ahead even when I wish I could make any other choice.

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