Neither of them moves. Marcus’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Alex’s hand is white-knuckled on the door handle.
“Oh, these are for you.” Marcus extends the flowers toward me. Pushy. Insistent. Not taking no for an answer even though I haven’t said yes to anything.
I take them. Begrudgingly. Because what else can I do? Refuse and make a scene? Tell him to leave me alone when my boss has already made it clear my career depends on being nice to him?
My heart pounds wildly in my chest.
“Ah, thanks?” Why does it sound like a fucking question? I hate that for me.
Alex yanks me inside. Physically grabs my arm and pulls me through the door. Slams it shut. The deadbolt slides home with a click that sounds like safety.
Nine
Alex dragsme toward the stairwell. Away from the glass door. Away from Marcus standing on the other side watching us.
I can feel his eyes. His attention. His intention.
And my intuition is screaming.
We crash through the stairwell door. It closes behind us with an echo that feels final.
And then Alex spins on me.
“Are you okay?” Her hands are on my face. Checking. Like she’s looking for injuries. Her fingers trembling. “Did he touch you? Did he?—”
“I’m fine.” My voice shakes. “I’m fine, I’m?—”
“You’re not fine.” She’s breathing hard. Furious and terrified in equal measure. “He was waiting for you. Dylan, he waswaiting.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t—” She gestures wildly toward the front door. Toward where Marcus stood. Toward the violation. “He knew you’d be walking home. Knew what time. Knew which door. How long has he been watching us?”
The question makes my stomach turn.
“I don’t know.”
“He’s been here before.” Alex’s voice drops. That quality when she knows something without being told. When her intuition is screaming louder than mine. “He stood on this street and watched our windows. Figured out which apartment is ours. Maybe followed you home from work. Maybe?—”
“Alex—”
“Your Instagram.” She snaps her fingers. Her brain working faster than her mouth can keep up. “Your fucking Instagram, Dylan. You tag locations. You post from the office, from restaurants, from—oh my god, you checked in at Villa di Roma tonight.”
I stare at her. “Shit.”
“He knows our routines. Where we eat. Where we work. Where welive.” She’s spiraling now. Pacing the small stairwell like a caged animal. “This isn’t him being sweet. This isn’t him courting you. This is?—”
“Hunting.” The word comes out flat. Cold. True.
Alex stops pacing. Looks at me.
“Yeah.” She whispers. “Hunting.”
The words hang in the air between us. Heavy. Undeniable.
“Dylan.” Alex’s voice cracks. “I sent you out there. I sent you out there alone and he—” She presses her hands to her face. “What was I thinking? What the fuck was I thinking?”
“You were teaching me?—”
