How dare they call at this time of night. And on a Sunday?
Jesus, it’s almost eleven o’clock. Surely, they have some code of decency. Most people I know wouldn’t call anyone on a Sunday, let alone at this hour when I could be sleeping.
Standing my ground, I watch the home screen until the call times out and the missed-call notification pops up. For a second,I think about messaging back to say I’ll call in the morning. But I think better of it. Best not to engage.
If I message and it’s Knox, I’ll end up in some conversation I don’t want.
I put the phone down and tell myself I’ll ignore any more calls if they come through.
And they do. Another call comes in five minutes later. Then ten minutes after that.
I ignore both and start my bath.
But I can’t ignore the knock on the door.
My heartbeat slows, and every muscle in my body goes rigid.
God. That can’t be anyone I know. Mom and Mia both have keys, and neither of them would turn up an hour before midnight knocking like that.
Unless something happened.
But what if it didn’t, and it’s Knox’s people?
Three sharp raps cut through the silence, and I know, whoever this is, they’re not going away.
I switch off the tap and make my way into the living room, creeping up to the door to peer through the peephole.
Everything inside me plummets.
Knox!
My God. He’s here, standing on the other side of the door.
Shit.
Through the peephole, I blink once, then twice, just to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
I’m definitely not.
Knox Vale stands there wearing a black biker jacket instead of one of his expensive suits. The rugged look shouldn’t work on him, but of course it does. His inky black hair is tousled, shadow dusting his jaw, and he looks more like a drifter who just rolled in from trouble than the cold, polished investor who wrecked my life.
A muscle jumps in my jaw as I step back from the door.
I’m not doing this. No. Absolutely not.
I press my back against the wall, heart thudding so loudly I can feel it in my throat.
If I ignore him, maybe he’ll go away. Maybe he’ll take the hint that I’m not interested in whatever his royal high-handedness has to say.
Another knock sounds. Harder this time. So hard, the sound ricochets through the apartment. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Go away. Please, please go away.
Then I hear it. The faint, unmistakable click of metal against metal.
My breath catches.
Oh my God.
