Fury bubbles up again, and I rewind the feed to see if I can catch a glimpse of her leaving, see if she's really as hurt as she sounded. Not that I can do much about it, since I don’t know her full name or where she lives - Primal Fantasies rules to keep everyone protected. But it’ll at least make me feel better to know I was justified in my decisions.
I scan through each monitor until I spot her, then choke on my own breath as I see her struggling and screaming, her face twisted in terror.
Fuck is she actually that good of an actress?
Then he hits her, and I can see the beginnings of bruises forming on her pale skin as she falls. It reminds me that one of her cheeks was unnaturally pink when I walked in on them.
Fuck! I don’t think this is an act after all. And I sure as hell didn’t make millions by being a gullible fool.
My gut wrenches as I watch her collapse, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, her entire spirit broken in a way I never came close to achieving, and nor did I want to.
I don’t want to see it now.
Something doesn't sit right. The pieces don't fit together, and I've always prided myself on seeing the whole picture. What the fuck have I missed?
I rewind, searching for the moment she brought that bastard into my home. The footage will tell me what I need to know.There - I see her exit the elevator with a couple of grocery bags, which in itself seems incongruous, and she’s alone.
I glare at the screen. He must have come later… But how did he get past George? Something else I need to investigate.
Since I’m anal about security, it irks me that I don’t know how he got into the building if he didn’t come up with Juno, so I rewind further. No little asswipe gets into my building without me knowing how. If there’s a breach, I need to know about it and fix it.
“Ah… there you are, you little punk,” I mutter under my breath as I locate him outside the building, looking around like he’s casing the joint, but not so obviously that George would notice. He watches Mrs. Albany as she enters the building and greets my concierge, so he knows he can’t walk straight in, but the timestamp is much earlier in the day.
I fast forward until I find him again, and my blood turns to ice as I watch him enter the frame barely mere seconds after Juno enters the building. So, they were together…
I’m about to switch off, feeling vindicated in my initial assumptions, when William Lancaster, one of our younger, not so bright, trust-fund tenants strolls towards the entrance and I catch Reggie making his move, engaging Will in conversation and pushing into the building with him.
With his pinstripe suit, even as obviously cheap and badly cut to someone like me, Reggie doesn’t necessarily look out of place, and George naturally assumes the two men are together and clears them through.
“Fucking hell!”
I fast-forward back to Juno entering the penthouse and my heart jumps into my mouth as I observe Reggie force his way into my apartment behind Linnea, shoving her roughly through the door. She stumbles, groceries spilling across the floor. Ilean in closer to the screen, my fists clenching as I take in her frightened eyes.
I was wrong. This wasn't planned. She didn't invite him in, after all.
"Damn it all!"
I continue watching, bile rising from my gut as the scene unfolds. The way he gropes her, threatens her. Her feisty attempts to fight back.
And then I see myself storm in, misreading it all. The cold fury on my face as I misinterpret everything. My stomach churns with guilt and horror at my own actions.
I fast-forward, desperate to see what happened after I threw her out. Then I feel like someone's punched me in the gut as I witness Linnea stumbling from the building, only to be confronted by that thug again. She tries to run, but he grabs her, dragging her towards a car.
"Fuck!" I slam my fist on the desk, furious at myself for not listening to her. For not protecting her when she needed me most.
I grab my phone, frantically dialing George. "Where’s Juno? Did you see where she went?"
"Sir, I'm sorry, but Miss Juno left on foot about 20 minutes ago. She refused a cab and wouldn't let me call the police. She seemed quite distraught."
My mind races. I have to find her, have to make this right somehow. But I have no idea where she lives or how to contact her.
I pace the room, running my hands through my hair in frustration. How could I have been so blind? So quick to assume the worst? I've prided myself on reading people, on always being in control. But I misjudged this situation, badly. And now Linnea could be in serious danger because of my arrogance and assumptions.
I grab my keys and rush out the door, my mind racing. Where would she go? Back home seems most likely, but I have no idea where that is. The streets around my building are empty; no sign of her.
My phone buzzes and I snatch it up, hoping it's George with more information. But it's just a work email. I curse and shove it back in my pocket.
I jog down the sidewalk, scanning every face, every alley. My heart is pounding, guilt and anxiety churning in my gut. How could I have been so blind? The signs were there if I'd just looked closer. Her terror, her desperation. I was too caught up in my own paranoia to see what was really happening.
