The moment the sliding glass doors hit the pavement, I ripped my phone from my bag with enough force to nearly crack the screen.
I hit Penelope's contact before I even reached the curb.
"Alex! Oh my god, how did—"
"How do you know him?" I roared, oblivious to the businessman who swerved to avoid me. "Penelope, I am so going to kill you. I am going to find you, and I am going to pull out every one of your expensive lash extensions one by one!"
"Whoa, whoa! What happened? Was the interview that bad?"
"Bad? It was Adrian! My former step-brother! The resident demon of my teenage years!"
There was a stunned silence on the other end. "Wait…..what? No. The CEO is Adrian Reyes. You told me your nightmare step-brother was Adrian Maddox."
"He changed his name, Penny! He dumped the Maddox name for Lord knows what fucking reason! He's Adrian Reyes now! He's sitting in a freezing office on the 50th floor looking like some dark, brooding king of the underworld, and you sent me right into his clutches!"
"Alex, I swear, I didn't know—"
"I can't do this. I actually can't." My voice cracked. The adrenaline was starting to dip, leaving behind a hollow, aching pit. "I slapped him. I slapped the high-profile CEO. I'm done. I'm dead. Goodbye."
I hung up before she could apologize again. I couldn't hear it. Not right now.
I trudged toward the bus stop, the reality of my life crashing down like a house of cards. Ten years. It had been ten years since my mother dragged me out of that house in the middle of the night, claiming Adrian's father was planning to "replace" us or ship us off. I was fifteen, hormonal, and secretly, shamefully, infatuated with the boy who spent every waking hour making sure I knew I didn't belong. He was seventeen then, made of cruel smirks.
Now I was twenty-five, my mother was a ghost of herself, lost to a haze of pills and bad boyfriends, and she had managed to strip my life of every safety net I'd built. I was drowning in her debt, and the only life raft in sight belonged to the man I'd just assaulted.
I finally reached my cramped apartment, threw my shoes at the wall, and collapsed onto the bed. I didn't even wash the city off my face. I just let the tears come until the darkness pulled me under.
~
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I bolted upright, my heart threatening to escape my ribs. My hair was a literal bird's nest, one side matted flat, the other standing up like a cockatoo. I had one sock on. My eyeliner had migrated to my chin, giving me a very convincing "deranged raccoon" aesthetic.
"Coming! Stop breaking the door down!" I yelled, tripping over a discarded pizza box.
I grabbed a nearby silk scarf and tied it haphazardly over my head to hide the nest, wiped my face with the hem of my shirt, and swung the door open.
An older man stood there. Immaculate white hair, two pools of blue staring at me, and a face that screamed "professional butler."
"Miss Calloway?" he asked, his expression remaining impressively neutral despite my appearance. "I am Richard Alfonso. I represent Mr. Reyes."
I felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in my throat. I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "Oh, Richard. Lovely. You can tell Mr. Reyes to take his job offer, his dark oak desk, and his charcoal leather chair, and shove them so far up his ass they come out of his mouth as splinters."
Richard's eyebrows twitched. "Mr. Reyes does not take kindly to being told no, Miss Calloway. He has sent me to ensure—"
"Well, tell him I said he can take my white lily ass and kiss it," I snapped, using a term for my backside that made the poor man's eyes go wide. "Tell him I would rather sell my kidneys on the black market than work for a man who breathes liquid nitrogen. Goodbye, Richard!"
I slammed the door and let out a primal scream into a sofa cushion.
~
Two hours later, I decided I needed a drink. Just one. Something to numb the fact that I was officially the most broke, most unemployed person in the country.
After taking a shower and scrubbing off the raccoon stains off my face, I dressed in a simple sundress, and headed to the local bar. I considered downing four bottles of scotch, but alas, I was the personification of poor.
After indulging my crazen desires, I returned about an hour later.
Only to find a sleek, black Maybach idling right in front of my building.
The door opened.
The world seemed to slow down as Adrian stepped out. He had ditched the suit jacket, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that were.….frustratingly well-defined.
"Are you kidding me?" I shouted, stopping ten feet away. "Didn't you get the message? Get lost, Adrian! Shoo! Fuck off! I do not want to speak with you!"
He didn't say a word. He just started walking toward me, his gray eyes locked on mine with a terrifying intensity.
"Alex," he growled.
"No! Stay back! Don't 'Alex' me!" I turned and bolted for my door, fumbling with my keys. My hands wouldn't stop shaking and so they slipped out of my grasp. "Dammit, dammit—"
I felt the heat of him before I felt his touch. I reached for the keys, but a large, tanned hand grabbed them first. I yanked it away from him, unlocking the door.
"Get the fuck—"
He didn't give me a choice. He pushed the door open, crowded me into the small entryway, and slammed the door shut behind us. The sound of the deadbolt clicking echoed in the tiny space.
"Would you just listen for one goddamn second?" he growled, his eyes narrowing.
I looked up at him, hating how the light caught the rough texture of his beard. Hating that he smelled this good. Hating that even as a teenager, I had wanted him to notice me, and now that he was, I wanted to melt into the floor.
"I have nothing to say to you," I hissed, pressing my back against the wall.
Adrian leaned in, his hands planting on the wall on either side of my head, pinning me in place. The mark from my slap was gone, replaced by a dark, simmering hunger.
"You don't?" he whispered, his face dropping so close I could feel the heat of his breath. "I have plenty to say."