“A pity,” the man says with a tsk. He smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve been meaning to stop by sooner. I’m looking for Sydney, actually. I went by her apartment, but she doesn’t seem to be home.”
“Sydney’s not here right now,” I tell him, taking a cautious step out from behind the counter, closer to him.
“More’s the pity.” He lets out a long, tired breath. “Do you know where she is, dear?”
My hackles raise at anyone, let alone this stranger, calling medear. I don’t try to hide my reaction as I shake my head. “No. I don’t,” I say firmly. “And I don’t want to be rude, but you need to leave. We’re closed. That door should be locked, and?—”
Still smiling that empty, blank smile, he opens his hand, holding it out to show me a set of keys nestled in his palm.
“Perks of ownership,” he tells me, as I stare down at them.
“Wait… You’re the new owner?” I ask, confused. He certainly looks rich enough. But does that mean it wasn’t one of Syd’s boys who purchased our building?
“I have that pleasure, yes.” He chuckles, and the sound of it sets my nerves on edge and makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. Something’s wrong, something doesn’t feel right about any of this. Moving the keys to his other hand—the one holding his cane—he stretches his hand out to me, inviting me to shake it.
“You can call me Dante, dear,” he says.
It’s rude to leave him standing there, with his arm outstretched, leaning heavily on his cane, but I can’t bring myself to reach out and touch him. I’m frozen, something that feels an awful lot like fear creeping up my spine.
But then he shifts a little, and his leg shakes. He winces, as though in pain, doubling over and dropping his keys to the ground in the process. “Ah!” he cries out, hunched over himself. The cane shakes under his weight.
Fuck. I’m an asshole.
“Here,” I offer, stepping forward and bending down to pick up his keys from where they’ve landed. “Let me get those, I?—”
At least I block the first hit.
The moment I bend over, Dante raises his cane and brings it down hard, aiming for my head. I manage to get my arm up just in time, screaming as the blow connects with bone.
The pain is unbearable. I crumple to my knees, cradling my arm against my chest and sobbing. Frantically, I try to get up, to scramble to my feet.
I can’t move fast enough to block the next blow. It takes me hard on the side of the head, and everything goes fuzzy as I hit the ground.
It takes a while for me to lose consciousness. And before I do, I recognize the smell of gasoline.
And smoke.
51
SYDNEY
Sandwichedbetween Ashton and Alec in the back of their town car, I let myself smile. This is where I belong. With them.
Together.
I curl against Ashton’s side, running my hand over his arm. “Can we swing by my apartment quickly?” I ask. “I need to grab some more clothes if I’m being kidnapped for much longer.”
I’d been in a daze when I’d packed, grabbing things and shoving them in my suitcase without much thought. I miss my favorite sleep shirt and could use more than just one pair of jeans.
“Of course. We can stop by on our way to Second Circle,” Alec assures me. He leans forward, tapping the divider that separates us from the driver. When it opens, I hear him speaking softly to Earl, telling him to take a detour to my address.
“You better have a big bed in your suite, Babygirl,” Ashton murmurs into my ear, running his hand up the bare skin of my leg. “Because it’s going to be a tight fit with the three of us.”
“We’re not sleeping over,” Alec warns him, settling back into his seat. But he’s smiling, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. He stretches his arm behind me, fingers idly playing with my hair. “And if we are, you’re sleeping on the couch.”
“Who said anything about sleeping?” Ashton asks with a flirtatious wink.
I laugh, shoving him playfully, but that only makes him move closer. He lifts my legs and sets them across his thighs, pulling me toward him until I’m practically on his lap.
