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It’s starting to be a problem for me, but I’m going to take a break.
I grab a different pair of shoes, chunky sneakers that came back into style a few years ago for God only knows what reason. I think they’re cute, honestly, but I know they’re not always going to be considered the height of fashion, and I’ll have to swap them out for something different.
Fast fashion. I’m so deep in the industry that it doesn’t even seem that fast anymore.
I have to remember to lock my door when I leave the apartment. It used to lock by itself, but after getting the weird feeling that someone had been in here when I wasn’t home, I had to change the lock for my own sanity.
Today, I’m not in much of a rush. I managed to wake up before my alarm, and my morning routine is shorter than most people’s. In and out of the shower, moisturize, and get dressed. There’s not much else to do than to grab a coffee on the way into work. If I can get to the drive through before the lunch rush, even better.
I’m happier than I normally am as I leave the building, but all that changes in an instant when I spot a tall man in a jet-black suit standing next to my car.
Him again?!
This can’t be happening…
But Pasha is hard to forget, and I know it’s him by the way he towers over everything in the parking lot, casting a long shadow that seems darker than the rest. He brings with him a deep-seated feeling of danger, like he would sooner kill you than take no for an answer.
But I can’t say yes to this man. He’s trouble. I can feel it in my bones.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, pulling my keys out and holding them tightly between my thumb and index finger.
“Not very polite of you,” he replies, tilting his head to the side and crossing his arms over his impossibly broad chest. “I just came to see how you were doing.”
“I was fine until I saw you,” I grumble, coming to a stop a few feet away from him. “I hope you’re not going to try to kill yourself in front of me again.”
He chuckles. “No, I think we can both a agree that was a little too dramatic. You do remember me, though, so maybe it was necessary.”
He’s right but I hate to admit it. That scene has been playing over and over again in my mind since it happened. He tried to kill himself in front of me and I stopped him. Would he really have pulled the trigger if I didn’t jump toward him, or was it all a stunt to get me to feel bad for him?
Either way, it was dangerous and stupid. Pasha needs to get his act together or he’s going to scare off any other woman he sets his sights on.
Though the idea of him setting his sights on anyone else makes me uncomfortable. I feel like I can handle him because I’ve been through worse, but a normal woman wouldn’t. She’d lose her mind the second he pulled a gun.
“I’m not giving you my number, so you can forget about asking again,” I say, making no attempt to get to my car. I have time this morning, and maybe it’s better that we talk a bit so I can get some answers out of him.
“I don’t need your number, darling,” he replies, brushing the hair out of his face. “I know where you live.”
“Okay, you see, now that’s where you lose me, Pasha. If you weren’t so fucking creepy you’d have a chance,” I say, waving my finger at him.
I shouldn’t have said that, because his eyes light up at the idea that he could have a chance with me. Honestly, a man as handsome and obviously well-off as he is could probably have any woman he wanted, so I don’t understand why he would get excited over someone like me.
More confirmation that he’s crazy, I suppose.
“I’d like to apologize for my behavior,” he says, uncrossing his arms and clasping his hands together. “I left the wrong impression, and I can see it’s still bothering you.”
“Yeah, bothering me is one way to put it,” I reply sarcastically.
“Okay, so I’m a demented freak. Hurt me again with your words, darling. The pain is better than your absence.”
I laugh. “Cute. You could be a singer or something. Maybe you’re already in a band, judging by your appearance.”
He frowns. “I’m not in a band. What gives you that impression?”
“The, um, tattoos,” I reply, waving vaguely at his entire body. “You’re covered in them. It’s either that, or you’re a mafia boss.”
His green eyes light up again. “Nailed it.”
“Oh, come on, this isn’t a movie,” I say with a laugh, trying to hide the nervousness that’s creeping into my voice. “You’re just a weird guy with a crush on a much younger woman you barely know. I’ve seen it a lot in my industry, so I’m not really surprised. The stalking is getting to be a bit much, though.”
