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“Is this a butt dial?” he says, voice bright, instead of hello.
I roll my eyes out of frustration.I wish.
“Are you home?” I say impatiently, skipping the dumb pleasantries and getting straight to the point, my grip tightening around the steering wheel.
“No. Why?” he says, finally being serious.
“Where are you?” I ask while checking my rearview mirror.
“I’m having a drink at The Chelsea.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah, Bastian just left. What’s going on?” I can almost hear concern tinting his tone.
“I don’t have time to explain right now, but meet me outside in fifteen.”
I hang up before he has time to decline and speed towards the bar, his car still following me from a block away, my heart in my throat.
When I finally park in front of The Chelsea, Patrick has lost all his stealth—he knows he’s got me cornered. He parks right beside me. I do a quick sweep of the parking lot but Connor is nowhere to be found bringing my adrenaline to an all time high
Great.
When my ex-fiancé climbs out of his car, I quickly lock my doors, sitting practically paralyzed in my seat, my fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel.
“Where the hell is he,” I say under my breath as I watch Patrick approach my window and crouch low to look into it, a placating smile on his lips that gives me the fucking creeps and reminds me of my father’s.
All of it was fake, I’ve come to realize, even their smiles.
The asshole tries to tell me to open my car door but I give him the finger instead, keeping my gaze facing forward. He slams his palm into the side window and I flinch.
His voice is muffled but I can still hear the warning in his tone. “Open the door, Penelope.”
I close my eyes for a beat, taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm. I’m about to call Connor again when I see the front door of the bar swing open and he strolls outside, glancing around. At the same moment, Patrick tries to open my locked door, his body jerking in frustration while he forcibly pulls on the handle.
What he doesn’t see is Connor taking notice. I watch through the window as his body straightens, dark brows narrowing, his expression quickly morphing from casually entertained to deadly, and my heart can’t help but to soar at the sight.
Feeling slightly more confident about the situation now that the resident psycho is close by, I unlock my car and push my door open, slamming it hard into Patrick. He stumbles back but eventually regains his balance while I step out.
I give Connor an apologetic look but his gaze is locked on the man trying to drag me back to the cult. A flicker of recognition travels across his face before he steels his expression. None of us say a word while we watch Connor casually pull out a metal cigarette case and take out a joint, flicking his zippo open and taking a long drag before looking back at the man in question.
With the joint still tucked between his index and middle finger he points to Patrick and says, “You.” While taking a slow step forward. “Didn’t I have a gun to your head last time I saw you?” he says, tone dripping with tedium.
Surprise roots me to the spot, my head snapping to my ex-fiancé. He looks slightly befuddled, opening his mouth and then closing it. However, that small moment of confusion on his part propels me into action. Back straight, head high, I walk towards Connor and slide my arm around his. His body jerks, his gaze suddenly on the place our arms are linked but I pay no mind, readying to drop the bomb that might solve all of my problems or make everything ten times worse.
“You can tell Frederick, I’m not going anywhere,” I say with a smug smile, I try to pull Connor even closer, but he’s not budging. “And if any of you ever try to get close to me again, you’ll have to go through myhusbandfirst.”
Chapter 14
Thewordhusbandhangs heavy between us while I try to wrap my head around what the fuck is happening. Lenix’s arm is still tucked tightly into mine, her face calm but I can feel how tense her body is leaning against me. I’m about to open my mouth to deny any such thing, but she stealthily kicks my shin and I realize with sudden clarity that I’ve led myself right into this trap.
Not to mention that this is the same guy I saw in front of her building the other day and it doesn’t take a fucking dummy to realize he’s been stalking her. Not one to shy away from scaring the living shit out of people, I pull out my gun on him yet again and push Lenix behind me.
I can hear her hurried whisper near my ear before I can decide if this guy is even worthy of the bullet inside the chamber of my gun.
“Don’t,” is all she says.
There’s a split second where the urge is bright and heady, but there’s enough of a plea in her tone that I reluctantly shove my Glock back into my holster and stalk straight to him instead. He flinches, a small whimper escaping his lips. His reaction gives me the smallest of pleasure. Or at least scratched the itch some.
