“Now, now lass, we can do this the easy way—or the hard way.” The look of amusement on his face has me seeing red. I grip the strap of my bag tighter. The man is built like a linebacker, with a ruggedness that feels as though he was rippedstraight from the Highlands. With messy copper curls and blue eyes, despite his size, there’s a teasing warmth about him. A charming, playful, arrogance and a smile that I’m sure has all the ladies just falling at his feet.
“Fine. Fine. That’s—Fine,” I spit out, throwing up my hands in defeat before turning on my heel and slamming the door inMac’sface.
Tossing my bag on the floor, I storm around the apartment feeling like the walls are closing in. The apartment is small, but now it feels suffocatingly so.
Pulling out my phone, I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the glass after realizing I don’t even have Koen’s number. For a moment, I contemplate calling the police, but quickly toss out the idea, considering the circumstances.
Instead, I shoot off a text to Melanie at the Conservatory, requesting to be taken off the schedule for lessons for the next couple of weeks, citing my need to prep for the showcase.
“No problem.”
Her response is immediate, and I’m left with an emptiness at the suddenly freed-up calendar and empty apartment. Nervous energy ripples through my body, and I can feel the anxiety creeping into my chest, my heart rate picking up.
Dropping my phone on the counter, I move quickly for the living room. Taking out my anger on the poor, unsuspecting couch when I shove it back hard against the wall. The coffee table gets it next, and I keep going until I’ve cleared as much space as I can and start to warm up.
Letting out a tethered breath, I sink into my stretch. Letting the familiar burn and pull of the movements relax my racing heart, my mind following suit.
Using the reflection in the window, I do what I can with the space for the next couple of hours. Cursing the fucking O’Rourke name as I go.
After a couple of hours, I stop when I hear my phone ringing from the island where I left it. I race over, hoping to not miss a call from Lily and Remi, but deflate slightly at the sight ofUnknown Numberflashing on the screen.
Sliding my thumb across the glass, I ignore the call. My stomach rumbles, so I open the fridge, only to stare at its emptiness instead. Lily does most of the shopping, and with her and Remi out the house, I’m in desperate need of a grocery trip.
Not less than thirty seconds later, there’s a knock at my door.
I sigh, letting the refrigerator slowly close in front of me before trudging over and dragging open the door, not bothering to check to see who it is, considering Mac’s been out there all day.
It is, indeed, Mac at the door, and he thrusts a cell phone in my face. I look up at him, confused.
“It’s for you.”
I arch a brow but take the phone from him, holding it up to my ear. “Uhm—hi?”
There’s no hello, no greeting, just a familiar, irritatingly deep voice cutting through the other end.
“Answer when I call you.”
I glare down at the device and then up at Mac, who gives me a knowing look. “I don’t have your number, how was I supposed to know it was you?” I move away from the door, leaving it open for Mac while wandering slowly back to the kitchen.
There’s silence on the other end.Haha, got you there, tough guy.
That look of amusement is back on Mac’s face as he makes himself at home on my couch while waiting to get his phone back.
“Did you need something, darling?” I say sweetly, into the phone.
“We’re going out. I’ll be by to pick you up in an hour. Be ready to go.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, bypassing the urge to hang up the phone on him, or give him a piece of my mind about locking me inside my apartment all day.And how the hell did he get my phone number?
“Out.”
I roll my eyes. “Clearly. But I need to know what to wear to saidouting.”
“To a club.” He pauses before continuing, disdain dripping from his tone now, “One of your littlestripper outfitswould probably do nicely.”
My cheeks heat with the judgement I hear in his tone. “One hour. Save this number to your phone.” And he’s gone.
I‘m tempted to throw the device before remembering it’s not mine. Straightening my shoulders, I waltz calmly over to Mac, who’s still watching with interest from my couch. “Yourbosswill be here in an hour.” I hand the phone back to him without bothering to jot down the number. Koen can go fuck himself.
