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They were small things.
But they wereeverything.
A smile overtook my face as I set Fibo aside and focused on the numbers, knowing that with a bit of focus, I could waste away the day. Tomorrow would come sooner and I’d see them again. I had finally found something I loved just as much as numbers and sugar.
My thoughts drifted to their jobs again, my curiosity too hard to ignore as I searched ‘Kolas Renovations’. A phone number popped up with a location that led to the local post office. Thousands of reviews showed up as I clicked on their page, eyes wide as everyone praised Valentyn and his men for their thorough work.
They came highly recommended even if I had never heard of them before a few days ago. Continuing to scroll, I stopped when one of the reviews didn’t seem to be talking about construction, renovations, or anything remotelylegal.
Kolas and his men really came through, retrieving that item for me. Would have been better if the opposition had been completely eliminated but I thoroughly enjoyed the hospital visit. 10/10 would hire again but here’s to hoping I won’t need them again.
I sifted through each sentence, realizing that not only was this reviewnotfor the repairman part of the business, but that Valentyn or one of the others had sent someone to the hospital during the job. I swallowed nervously as I continued to scroll, picking out a few other reviews that described other, lethal situations, some of them eluding to death and others just thanking Valentyn for his help.
It was finally adding up. The dangerous aura that surrounded them. I needed to call someone and tell them about this dangerous group of men that were dealing justice beneath the law—if it was justice they were dealing. However, I must have been broken because I wasn’t scared and I didn’t want to report them. I was intrigued. I had questions and I needed to know more about the hands that had touched me…
My lips curled up slightly at how much I still wanted those three to return.
My phone buzzed in my other pocket, and I slid it out, scowling at the unknown number. Blocking his number or changing mine had always done fuck all so ignoring it was my best bet.
>His text rolled through.
I let out a bitter laugh as I immediately began packing up my work, talking to myself out loud. “That’s because I don’t fucking want to.” I stuffed my papers back into the lockbox and changed the code out of habit, picking something that only I would understand. Something new. Something regarding the four men who had a hold of my heart.
My phone rang again, one of Owen’s old numbers popping up on the screen. The call ended abruptly before his name flashed on the device again.What the fuck?He had been really over the top lately but this was a bit much, even for him. Two seconds later there was a knock on the door.
There’s no fucking way…
The clock read 9 p.m., which meant I had been stuffed in my office for nearly a full workday. I didn’t feel like I had accomplished much, after being distracted by the information I had pulled up on my men. Still, no one I knew would show up at my door this late without a call.
Several metallic clicks rang through the hallway, the horror that my lock was somehow being undone settling in my chest.
What the-
Stupidly enough, I stepped into the hallway as the door opened, Owen looking around frantically before catching my eyes. He carried two shopping bags with him as if he had just stopped by the store on his way home. “Oh, babe. I was so worried.”
I froze, hoping that this was just a terrible nightmare rather than my new reality. Having to cower in fear that this man was always going to find a way into my house wasn’t a way to live.
“You weren’t answering so I just came in and-”
A frown replaced my fear and confusion. “You don’t even have a key.”
“No, you took it.”
He answered my question without even knowing it, the idea that he had picked the lock terrifying me. Gianni had done the same thing and I had thanked him for it. Were they really that different? Was I trading one monster for three? "Then how the fuck did you get in?" I cursed as my voice wobbled but grateful that Owen hadn't seemed to notice.
"It wasn't that difficult. Did you really think that would stop me?"
My gaze widened at the crazy look that passed through his eyes as I began to dial 9-1-1. Owen shouted for me not to call anyone, just saying that he had been worried something had happened with those men in my house.
“It’s not your house. Why do you care? They came to look at the kitchen.”I think.Dmitri’s last words, Valentyn’s approach to the kitchen renovation, and the reviews I had found made me think otherwise. My thumb hovered over the 9, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good. If an officer showed up, the best thing that would happen is them asking Owen to leave. He’d be back within the hour or spin some story that he was just doing a welfare check. Somehow, law enforcement believed his elaborate lies over my terrified truths.
“I get it. I went about everything wrong and I just… things will be different, alright? Rhys,please.” His eyes were wild as he stepped forward, giving me a small grin as if that was going to repair everything he had broken.
That didn’t make any sense. He’d been terrorizing me for a while, constantly trying to ‘apologize’ but nothing had changed since the restraining order had been filed, a restraining order I hadn’t exactly mentioned to the men who left earlier. I knew Gianni knew about it in some part but if they knew the whole story, I was pretty sure they wouldn’t have left. Pretty sure.
My eyes scanned my office for something to use against him as I spoke, trying not to let my voice waver. The moment he realized I was scared, it would be game over. “How? Things were also different then. They were always fixed. You were always going to stop doing whatever it was that you were doing. But what was it? What was so important? The bruises? The cuts? The secrecy? Do you even fucking teach?” I took a deep breath, fisting my hands at my sides. “Why are you in my fucking house?”
When his brows furrowed in answer, I knew I shouldn’t have asked that question. I had had enough psychology classes to know that I shouldn’t be poking the beast but running away from it.
