When I do, he’s standing two feet away. He has his hands in his pockets. It makes him seem strangely vulnerable. At the same time it makes his arm muscles thicken, and I can’t help but be aware of his strength, the inherent threat of his body.
“Good night,” I whisper, because I want him to leave.
“Hannah,” he says, his voice so low I barely hear it.
“My name is Lola.”
He sighs and steps closer. “Hannah, you and me, we have unfinished business.”
My throat tightens. I’m not ready for this. I’ll never be ready. “That was a long time ago.”
“Maybe so. But I haven’t forgotten. I haven’t forgotten how we were together. Or what you did. Have you?”
There’s a stampede in my heart, thundering loud enough and hard enough I think I might pass out. God, I want to disappear. I want to melt onto the warm night’s pavement. “Blue, I—”
The door opens behind me, and I gasp. I don’t like things sneaking up on me. Nona is standing in the doorway, a confused look on her face. “Hannah? What’s going on out here?”
It scares me to think she doesn’t know, that Blue could be any strange man and she still would have opened the door. That’s probably true. I could be getting attacked in an alley and she’d come to my defense. She’d get herself killed to protect me, and in this neighborhood, that’s a reasonable outcome. But I can’t leave her here. She needs someone to make sure the stove is off and the doors are locked. She needs someone to pay the bills.
Blue is looking at her, speculating. He puts his hand out. “Blue Eastman.”
Nona studies him for a moment. She doesn’t get lucid very often—and it’s worse in the middle of the night like now. But the hand extended must trigger an automatic response. She shakes his hand with a pleased smile. “Nona Owens.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Owens.”
And then suddenly it does feel like that imaginary date, that twisted version of wholesome where he brings me home at the end of the night. And here he is meeting my parent. Except Nona isn’t my real parent. She was just my foster mom for a few months. The only one to give a damn.
And Blue definitely isn’t my date.
“Go inside, Nona,” I tell her softly. “I’ll be inside in a minute.”
Her expression is worried. “Will he come too?”
“No, of course not. I’ll lock the door when I come in.”
“And turn off the stove,” she says as if reciting a poem.
Alarm flares inside me. “Did you cook something today?”
“No,” she says, a little wistful. “But I wanted tea.”
“I’ll make you tea,” I promise her. “Go inside and wait in the living room.”
She complies, and I sigh in relief. Having her face-to-face with Blue makes me nervous. Not that I think he would hurt her just to get back at me. He’s too fucking honorable for that. No, I don’t want him seeing her because it reveals too much about me. This run-down house that still manages to be the nicest building in a two-block radius. What must he think of me?
Then I don’t have to wonder anymore; he’s going to tell me.
He takes a step forward. Then another.
He’s looming over me, this big, beautiful, terrifying man. He looks like an avenging angel, and I’m the devil who needs to be slayed.
I’m backed against the door that was just open. I close my eyes against the sight of him.
“Hannah,” he murmurs. “You’re so gorgeous.”
It doesn’t sound like a compliment. Not when he says it. Not when any of the men at the club say it. That’s because it’s not really a compliment. I don’t want to be gorgeous or sexy. I want to be loved.
“Why are you helping me?” I whisper. “Why’d you defend me?”
Some part of me can’t help but wonder if Candy was right. Maybe he does just want to fuck me.
His job is head of security, but we both know he could’ve let it go a lot longer. He could have waited until I cried out for help. He could have kicked the guy out without putting him in a choke hold. His voice is quiet when he responds. “Like I said, we have unfinished business. You owe me something.”
No, I’d been right all along. He wants to hurt me. He wants to fuck me. I’m sure he’ll end up doing both. My throat is dry. “Your pound of flesh?”
He curves his hand around my jaw, cradling me. Threatening me. Promising. “I’ve earned that much, don’t you think?”
A tear snakes down my cheek. “Yes,” I whisper.
“I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.” He leans close, his breath warm against my neck. “I wasn’t going to let him slap you around, Lola. The only person who’s going to mark this pretty skin is me.”
Chapter Five
I wake up with a pounding headache. The sun is too bright against my eyelids, and I turn my face into the pillow. What the hell happened last night? I feel like I got wasted, but I barely even drink, much less get drunk.
As I lay there, breathing in against my lumpy pillow and worn sheets, I start to remember. The night comes back to me in hazy underwater scenes—getting pushed around in the VIP room, being rescued by Blue. And then lying on the couch while Candy hands me a pill.