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I can’t tell her I want her to be a dorky teen with a crush on me—that if she needs me as hungrily as I need her, everything might work out—because she clearly wants me to believe the opposite.
“I get it,” I say.
What if she’s telling the truth? She’s not interested. I’ll have to respect that… or try. Ha! Yeah, right. I’m going to feast on this woman soon. She’s already mine.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jane
I keep expecting somebody to bust in here and tell me it’s the wrong apartment.
Frankly, it’s insane. Floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, a gleaming look down on the city’s sparkling lights. There’s a large bedroom, silk sheets, with an ensuite—a sauna and a jacuzzi in the bathroom with a waterfall shower.
The kitchen has an island, white marble, and there’s a paper form waiting for me to fill in with my bank information for the money Luke’s going to transfer. In the office—the office, I can hardly believe this—there’s a large desk and a cutting-edge computer. After setting it up, I check the specifications. It must’ve cost at least four thousand.
There are even clothes in the dresser in a variety of sizes. There’s food of every type in the fridge, freezer, cupboards, and pantry. I started the day scrubbing toilets and ended here. Again, I pinch myself. Again, the pain tells me this is real.
As I fill out the financial form, I think about the last time I saw Luke when he dropped me off. He seemed colder than when we first met and when he stood up for me in the apartment.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said stiffly, and then his security guard opened my door for me.
I caution myself not to be greedy. He’s given me more than I ever could’ve hoped for. On the fridge, there’s a note with a cell phone number attached.
Call or text if you need. Luke x
I spend too long staring at that kiss, imagining it means much more than it does. My mind goes over the times he touched me, my shoulder, my back, my hand. Each spot is still brimming with warmth.
I want to call Luke and ask what I’m supposed to do regarding the programming project. Is there a specific curriculum? It wouldn’t be right to bother him now. I can’t settle, though. I’m too flooded with restless energy. My belly keeps going tight as though hinting at the baby I’ll carry one day, the life Luke and I will begin, all the joy we’ll share, and… no, not that. Even if something happened, he’d eventually leave. It’s far easier to keep people at a distance, to be ready for the day they stop caring.
I decide to take a walk around the neighborhood. Unlike the old apartment, this is the sort of place where I feel safe to leave the house after the sun has set. Driving here was a real trip, like journeying to a different country, the roads getting smoother and cleaner, and the graffiti changing from random scrawls to artistic pieces.
Pulling on my sneakers, I open the door and walk down the hallway to the elevator. When I emerge into the lobby, a man in a suit approaches me. It’s the same security guard from earlier, the bald one.
“Ma’am,” he says. “Can I help you?”
“Christopher,” I say, remembering his name. “I was going to take a walk.”
“Mr. Hart has asked me to accompany you whenever you leave the apartment. I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
“What if it is?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you leave without protection. Mr. Hart was most insistent on that point.”
“Why, though?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“That sounds very official.”
He bows his head, clearly awkward at not being able to give me any more information.
“Does Luke provide this service for everybody on the programming project?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“I get it,” I say, wondering if Luke will tell me if I call him. “Okay, Christopher. Let’s go for a walk.”
“I’ll do my best not to interfere.”
I leave the building, walking down the well-lit street, taking in every detail as if the more I see of this place, the more real this situation will become. I won’t have to question it constantly with a part of my mind, a detached observer endlessly wondering if this is honestly happening. Pinching myself only goes so far.
I end up at a park, smiling when I see how civilized everybody is. It’s not that anyone who lives in a neighborhood like my old one is bad. It’s just that there are more bad people there, down-on-their-luck folks or drug addicts. There are lots of people who shout and fight and throw bottles in the street. It feels odd to sit on a park bench at night without worrying. Christopher hovers somewhere behind me. He stays at a distance, his hands folded.
