She drove the short distance to the flip house and parked the truck in the driveway. But when she went to unlock the door, the knob turned in her hand. Fighting back a feeling of foreboding, she grabbed her cell phone, punched in 911 and kept her finger hovering over the send button as she stepped cautiously over the threshold.
She didn’t immediately see anything out of place and started to relax a little as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. She’d almost convinced herself that she must have forgotten to lock the door or imagined it was open when she saw the walls of the first bedroom. Someone had thrown red paint in big slashes over the drywall she and Luke had finished before their trip to the city. Every wall was ruined and there was red paint splattered over the hardwood floors where it had fallen when whoever did this threw the paint at her walls. But it was theDIE FUCKING CUNTpainted in big broad brushstrokes that stole her breath and made her throat tightened.
The message was too personal, and she fought against the trembling that started in her legs and worked its way through her body. Who hated her enough to do this?
Clutching her phone, she made her way down the hallway. Everything she and Luke had done together was ruined, every wall covered with slashes of red paint. Instead of sanding drywall and moving forward, it would take her days to get things back to the way she’d left them. And that didn’t include the work that would have to be done on the floors before she could refinish them.
Exhaustion hit her like a wave threatening to overwhelm her. She slid her phone into her pocket and sank down to the floor, her shaky legs unable to hold her any longer. Her throat and chest were so tight; she took a breath, forcing the air into her lungs and counting as she exhaled. Her heart had settled into something resembling a normal rhythm when she heard a sound from downstairs that made her blood run cold.
The door banged open and if she hadn’t been so scared, she would have kicked herself for not locking it. All those movies with the stupid heroines who got themselves killed and she’d acted just like them. She scrambled to her feet reaching for her phone while she scanned the rooms, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. Footsteps sounded louder as they moved closer to the bottom of the steps. She struggled to dial with the phone shaking in her hand. Before she could hit the send button and call for help, Luke called out for her from below.
“Claire, sweetheart, you can’t hide. I know you’re here. I’ve come to take you to …” The words died on his lips when he saw her face. “What’s wrong?” He took the stairs two at a time, pulling her into his arms when he reached the top. The moment he saw the paint, his body went rigid. “What the fuck?” She felt his body vibrate as he moved her behind him, instinctively shielding her body with his.
“I found it like this.”
“Come on,” he said, fury blazing in his eyes. “Let’s get you out of here.”
He tugged her toward the stairs, but she resisted.
“I can’t go. I’ve got to fix it.” The weekend had already put her behind, but this, this was so much worse. Aside from making her feel violated, the vandalism would set her back days.
“The fuck you do. There’s no way you’re staying. They could still be here.”
She knew they weren’t. They house had felt empty and the paint was dry. But his words sent a thin ribbon of fear running through her.
“They’re not,” she said with more bravado than she felt. “And I’ve got to call the police.”
She could tell he wanted to say more, to force her to bend to his will, but in the end, he simply shook his head.
“At least come downstairs, we can call them and wait for them down there.”
She should tell him to leave, although she knew he wouldn’t. But for just once, she didn’t want to have to face trouble alone, even if it cost her much more later.
She nodded and let him guide her down the stairs, his hand on her back, sheltering her, protecting her.
IT TOOKHOURS for the police to arrive, ask their questions and leave again. By the time Luke and Claire were alone in the house, the light was fading outside, and she was exhausted, starving, and further from being ready to sell than she had been on Friday.
“Come on, baby,” said Luke, rubbing small circles on her back, soothing her the way you would a child who’d woken from a nightmare. “You can’t see in here. There’s nothing more you can do tonight. Let me take you home.”
She wanted to, God she wanted to let him take her back to his place and sink into that big tub letting it wash away the dirty feeling that hadn’t left since she saw the ugly words scrawled across her walls. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t leave the house sitting empty and she couldn’t let herself fall into playing house with Luke. Her heart wouldn’t understand the difference.
“I can’t leave. What if they come back? I can’t risk it,” she said, not sure if she was talking about the house or her heart.
“Fuck, Claire. That’s exactly why you can’t stay here. I’ll get my security guys to watch the place tonight, and tomorrow they can put in surveillance cameras, but until they find the sick fucks who did this, you’re not staying here alone.”
“I can’t afford that,” she said, letting her fear and helplessness morph into anger. “I’m in over my head as it is. And who the fuck do you think you are telling me what I can and can’t do, Luke Masters? The last time I checked I didn’t need to ask you or anyone else for permission to do whatever I wanted.”
“You don’t have to pay for anything,” he said, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “And I’m not waiting for you to ask my permission. I’m telling you, you’re not staying here alone.”
“You don’t get to decide that.” She didn’t care how stupid it was or if he was even right. She had damn near enough of him giving her everything – money, clothes, fucking orgasms – without ever losing control and making himself vulnerable. He took care of everything and never showed her anything of himself.
“The fuck I don’t,” he said, his voice low and controlled. The tightening of his jaw was the only indication that she was getting to him. He raised his head and gave her a look she was sure had made more than one CEO crumble in negotiations. “You’re leaving if I have to carry you out of here myself. I’m fucking tempted to turn you over my knee and spank your ass.”
“Like hell you will,” she spat back at him. “This isn’t some sex game we’re playing where Iletyou be in charge of me.” She punched the word let. Angry felt so much better than afraid, but she knew she was walking a line, and as good as it felt in the moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross it. “You’re fucking frustrated with me? Well, I’m fucking frustrated with you, but you don’t see me trying to spank you.”
“Claire,” he said, warning in his voice.
“I mean it.” She squared her shoulders, taking a step away from him. “I’m not playing here. I’m trying to protect myself and my life. I’ve worked damn hard for everything I have, including my father’s company. Nobody ever handed me anything.” She slid in enough accusation to make him clench his fists at his side. She didn’t doubt that if she was a man, they’d be bumping chests. If she was a man he wouldn’t be so God damned patronizing and condescending. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be telling her what to do. It wasn’t a fair comparison, but she was far past caring.
“Neither have I,” he said, his voice cool enough to freeze water. “I have worked for everything I have.”
“Well, how the fuck would I know?” she asked, refusing to feel sheepish for what she’d said. “I open up for you, make myself vulnerable over and over. I don’t hold anything back, and I still don’t know a fucking thing about you.”
“Jesus, Claire. What do you want from me?” he looked tired, resigned.
It was the resignation that tore at her heart. She’d known they’d end up here; she just hadn’t expected it to happen like this.
“Not a damn thing,” she said, turning away from him before the angry tears started to fall.
