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It’s sort of for both of us, I reply.
A few seconds later, his response comes through: Intriguing.
I laugh.
There’s a gentle knock, and I jump up. It’s got to be Mindy. The takeout place would have buzzed. I swing open the door. “That was qui—”
Ben.
“How did you get up here?” Shock and trepidation coil inside of me, my muscles locking, my throat squeezing.
He’s thinner than he was when I last saw him, skin stretched tight over his face. His jeans are dirty, and a brown T-shirt hangs on his frame. The panic nearly overwhelms me. I can’t think straight.
Remember Oliver’s calming voice last weekend, I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I shouldn’t be asking questions. I need to get rid of Ben. Now.
I go to slam the door in his face, and he stops it with one rigid arm thrust out, palm flat on the wood.
I stare at him. “Leave, or I’m calling the cops.”
“I haven’t seen you in months. I’m in town on business. I was thinking about moving to this area since work is going so well for me and thought I’d stop by and say hi. Don’t you want to see me?”
Ben moving to New York? He can’t be serious. I don’t dignify his question with a response. “What do you want?”
“I have something you need.” He winks, the move as smarmy as the way his voice dips with innuendo.
Ugh. How did I ever find him attractive? He’s disgusting.
My hand clenches on the doorknob. “I really doubt that.”
“Trust me. You want this. If I give this video to the press, you’ll be ruined, you and your little boy toy. Or should I say boy toys?”
What the hell is he talking about?
I need to call the cops. My phone is over on the table. I try to work out how I can get to it and how I can get rid of him, but all I can think about is running. Hiding. “You have nothing. I’ve never done anything to be ruined.”
He sneers. “Haven’t you?”
My stomach twists, my heart pounding. My words emerge through clenched teeth. I don’t want him to hear my voice tremble. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I try to think straight through the mound of terror smothering me, but it’s impossible. Did he take some sort of sex tape or do something while we were together that I’m not aware of? I wouldn’t put it past him. It would have been easy to do with his cell phone, which was always in reach.
“What do you want?”
He smiles as if this is what he’s been waiting for all along—me asking him to give him whatever he wants and needs. “I just want us to work together again. That’s it. I helped make you who you are. You wouldn’t be anyone without me. It’s not asking for much, don’t you think?”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Is he serious? Of course he is. He thinks he’s the sole reason I achieved any success, like I hadn’t made a name for myself in my own right.
I want to scream. I should scream. That would at least get the neighbors to come out.
He takes a step back. “You need me. I made you, and I can break you. You have twenty-four hours to think about it.”
With my heart still thumping a mad rhythm, I shut the door and lock it then slide to the floor and try to catch my breath. Adrenaline rushes out of me, leaving me lightheaded. My mind runs through the conversation.
What the hell was he talking about? What is he going to do next?
A knock on the door behind me makes me jump, a wonky scream startling out of me. I spin around and peer through the peephole. Please be Mindy. I will never ever open a door again without checking first.
I don’t recognize the person on the other side. He’s in his thirties, with dark hair cut high and tight. He’s stocky with a thick neck.
