“We don’t know each other at all, Flowers,” he said. Then his voice changed. Lower, deeper. Less sarcastic and more serious. “There was a gang related shooting two blocks over from thismotel. You can’t stay here. I’m still enough of a man on the inside to not allow that.”
Enough of a man? E.G. was without a doubt the largest and most substantive man I’d ever met.
Would ever meet, probably.
He wasn’t going to leave. That was obvious.
Glancing down at myself, I was wearing No-Nonsense leggings and a cotton tank top with a built-in shelf-bra. I hated that his low sexy voice hardened my nipples, but I wasn’t putting on a bra for this fucker. He could deal with my B-cup breasts and bare shoulders because I did not invite him here. I didn’t have to present professionally in any way. He was the intruder.
Another look behind me to make sure the bed was at least made, my stuff was, what little of it there was, tucked away in the drawers and closet.
I removed the chain link from the lock and opened the door, but remained in the doorway so he didn’t get the impression he was welcome inside.
He was still dressed in what he’d been wearing that day at the office. I had no idea about fashion, but I understood quality and the forest green shirt he wore probably cost more than the monthly rent on this place.
He immediately pushed past me into the room.
“Yo! Vampire. You know you need an invitation first.”
He sneered and then started to move about the space like he owned the place. Two double beds, a dresser with a television. A bathroom and a closet next to that. It was run down, but it was clean. I tipped the housekeeper to make sure of that.
“Unacceptable.” I heard him mutter under his breath.
“I didn’t ask for your approval,” I told him quietly. Feeling every ounce of his billionaire judgement.
Turning quickly to face me, he took in what I was wearing, much like he assessed the motel room.
The wordunacceptablepulsed in my brain.
“Pack your things. I’ve found you better accommodations. This area of Houston isn’t safe.”
“No,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. Partly as a defensive mechanism, partly to detract from the fact I wasn’t wearing a bra. “I paid for this place for the rest of the month. I’m not going to get a refund if I leave. And I’ve been safe here.”
“You’ve felt safe? Here?”
“I didn’t say Ifeltsafe, I said I’ve been safe. Nothing bad has happened.”
“Yet,” he said, ominously.
“Look, I’m not some Disney princess. I know how to take care of myself.”
“You’re armed?”
I shrugged. “I don’t like guns. I have a knife and a canister of mace.”
He grimaced as if my self-protection efforts were pitiful. I forgot how it completely ruined his handsome face when he did that.
“You don’t like guns and you moved to Texas? Not great planning on your part.”
I rolled my eyes, which I knew he hated. It was a habit I was having a hard time breaking, but this time I didn’t care. Exasperation, which was what I was feeling right now, needed to be expressed both verbally and physically.
“E.G., seriously. I get your concern, I guess. But I’m fine. I haven’t missed a day of work, have I?”
“You’re surrounded by addicts, drunks, and hookers. Which is why there was a shooting two blocks away. You’re notsafe. As I explained earlier today, myconcerngoes only in so far as it impacts my working life. This bothers me, so it has to change.”
Yeah, the message had been received. He didn’t givetwo-shitsabout me. Which was fine, because I didn’t give two-shits about him as long as he paid me.
I think some part of my brain had been waiting for this ax to drop the entire time. I didn’t belong in his world. In any part of it. I’d walked into the wrong office and fell into probably one of the most ridiculous situations a person could imagine.
