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Lillian
Iheavedasighof relief when Gunnar left. It was so hard to think when he was around. What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
Getting confirmation that The White Claws did indeed have ties to organized crime was chilling, but what had really scared me was Gunnar’s reaction to the news, or should I say non-reaction. He’d made it seem like it was no big deal. His nonchalance about pissing off the snow leopard shifters, combined with his obvious wealth, were giant red flags for me.
He’d lied about his job. He was no security guard.
Okay, technically, he’d said he “worked security”. I’d been the one who’d assumed he was a plain ol’ security guard, but then again he hadn’t corrected me either. Hmm. Criminals and gangsters needed security too. That was the only thing that would explain his lavish lifestyle.
No normal security guard could afford the place he and his brother lived in and a collection of expensive cars. His daily ride cost as much as a small home.
Not to mention, he hadn’t turned off his glamour once this entire time. Glamour spells took a lot of energy to cast and maintain, and I’d heard they weren’t comfortable. What the hell was he so desperate to hide?
It made me wonder if I’d jumped out of the frying pan and right into hot coals.
But then when he’d pointed to the ring and declared that I was his? Gah! It had both excited and terrified me. Warning bells had never sounded so sweet!
And the worst part of it was that I was stuck with him unless I wanted to end up on a plane on Monday. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Gunnar had seemed like such a great option until his story stopped checking out. He’d bailed me out of a difficult spot yesterday, and had been a complete gentleman when he could have totally taken advantage of me. He and that Eamon guy even had access to the EA’s files. Wasn’t the EA like the supernatural police? Did that mean he had friends in high places, and that’s why he wasn’t worried about The White Claws?
Or was it because he was something worse? Was that why he hadn’t shown me his natural form yet? I still had no idea what kind of monster he was. At first, I thought he was a shifter, but now I wasn’t so sure. Whatever he was, he was huge. I didn’t miss the way he’d held his body in my apartment building’s little elevator.
How long was he going to keep me in the dark about this? What if he was hideous, and I was stuck with him after, and he wouldn’t let me leave? But he’d mentioned a prenup, and that had to be a good sign that he wasn’t some axe murderer or possessive freak who’d never let me go.
I sighed. I’d have to figure it out as I went. He was still definitely my best option. And I really didn’t think he was an axe murderer. I mean, come on. Would axe murderers let potential victims meet their housemates and their partners?
Maybe it was naive, but I couldn’t imagine Gunnar being anything but nice to me, which was why I was ignoring all the redder-than-red flags and moving in with him. I just hoped I wasn’t making a horrible mistake.
I looked around at all the things I owned scattered across the room. I’d started the big declutter on Wednesday, right after I’d gotten that call. Whatever was already in the heavy-duty trash bags could probably stay in there. I thought of the much too expensive dress that made me feel like a sausage every time I wore it. Yup, that could stay in the garbage.
I’d already packed up my electronics and all my important legal documents. I’d emptied out my dresser and tossed everything in my closet that didn’t fit right or otherwise looked bad on me. Everything that had survived the clothing cull was already in the two suitcases.
Now that I could bring more with me, I shoved my stack of notebooks and sketchpads into a box. I had planned on burning them if I ended up leaving. I’d written all my dreams and ambitions in them and what was the point of hanging onto those if I had to give up the life I knew? But there was hope now, so damn right I was keeping them.
I thought of the tragic lack of decent coffee at the penthouse and decided to bring my espresso machine, my French press, all my premium coffee, and my other coffee-making paraphernalia. That espresso machine had been my first splurge when I started making decent money. As someone who ran on a steady supply of bean juice, I’d thought it was worth it.
The plants had come next. And oh boy, did they come! They came, they saw, they conquered. They’d now taken over most of my tiny one-bedroom apartment. I couldn’t possibly bring them all to the penthouse, so same as I’d done with my clothes I got to work choosing the ones I’d like to keep.
Fifty. Fifty plants made the cut, most of them big aroids. A few succulents made it in too, including the adorable little Lithops. It was flowering right now and looked for all the world like a tiny butt with a flower sticking out of it.
So stinking cute!
What didn’t make the cut were the dozens and dozens of cuttings I’d taken from my plants in the hopes of selling them online. They were also the only specimens not in LECA. I was rooting them in coco coir. They’d be extra messy to transport.
I was just packing up my grow lights when my doorknob jiggled.
Shit! Was it time already? I grabbed my phone from the coffee table to check. It had only been an hour.
The knob jiggled again, but the door didn’t open. Then there was a knock.
A sense of dread filled my stomach. That wasn’t Gunnar. He had my keys. Silently, I turned on the TV, muting it the split second I powered it on, and switched to the building’s security feed channel. I cursed in my head as the video footage slowly looped through the hallway cameras on each floor.
There was another knock, followed by someone trying the handle.
Damn it! Why couldn’t the feed go faster?
Three more floors. Two. One. Finally the video showed my floor. There were two Asian guys at my door who looked like they’d walked straight out of the Hong Kong mobster films Mom and Dad used to watch. Seriously?
