I can tell Logan has given him just about as much as he can take.
I step back with my hands up. “Okay. This is my studio, and it’s not for sale. There must be some kind of mistake.”
“Then go fix it!” he spits, turning and stomping off down the road towards his car
I turn to Logan, shaking my head in utter shock. “What the fuck?”
“I have no idea; they turned up an hour ago demanding I left the premises.”
“I will call Erin, it will be a misunderstanding.”
It has to be.
I go to push through the door, but it’s locked, so I open my bag in search of my keys, only Logan stops me with a hand on my arm.
“They changed them, Nina. The locks. I tried to stop them, but he had all these documents. I didn’t know what else to do.”
I stare at the door, completely at a loss.
What the hell is going on?
Digging into my bag, I find my phone. I have a missed call from Erin, and my heart sinks.
My hand trembles as I lift the phone to my ear, pressing play on the voicemail that’s waiting for me.
My nostrils flare as her emotionless voice fills the line, and tears fill my eyes.
“Nina, I’ve had to sell the studio. Don’t contact me again. I need a fresh start and a clear break from London.” She huffs down the phone, and I frown at her heartless words. They have absolutely no sincerity in them. “Thanks for everything.”
“It’s been sold, hasn’t it?” Logan mutters, hands on his hips as he shakes his head in disbelief.
“I don’t know.” A tear rolls down my cheek.
“Well, either it’s sold or it’s not Nina? What did she say?”
Everything seems to slow, the cars on the street, the people that step around us, everything.
I struggle to find my voice as I look up at Logan.
He takes my phone and listens to the voicemail. “Bitch. What is that all about? Thanks for everything; like this is your fucking fault!”
“I’m so sorry. I will help you find another job. We can set up someplace else,” I rush out. Then I think of Henry, and how this will affect him too.
My body starts to tingle, and sweat forms on my brow. My stomach rolls. Oh god.
I bend, vomiting onto the curb.
* * *
“You’resure I’m okay to leave you here?” Logan asks as we enter my apartment, his hand smoothing over my back.
“Yes, you go. I will be fine. I’m so sorry, Logan.”
“Will you stop that?! We will get it sorted.”
I nod my head, but the sinking feeling in my gut tells me we won’t.
I can feel everything slipping away from me.
