"You go first," I tell him. "I'm shy."
A sly grin forms on his face, and despite being fucking terrified, I turn around and press my ass toward him and lower my torso onto the cold counter.
"Fuck, baby, you're making me so hard." He grips my thighs and presses his hardness into me, aggressively thrusting his hips and making me wonder if he's going to come before we even take our clothes off. Maybe this won't be as bad as I expected it to be.
But either way, I don't want to find out.
So instead of letting him go any further, I reach toward the stack of papers the builders left behind and latch onto the box cutter tucked just along the bottom. In one fluid motion, I thumb the side of it, revealing the blade and spinning myself around toward my assaulter.
"I'm going to need you to back the fuck away from me, Joshua." My entire demeanor has changed, and it's almost humorous how long it takes him to realize I wasn't actually submitting to him.
And in that flicker of a moment I thought I had the upper hand, Joshua surprises me yet again and latches onto my throat, squeezing tight and flaring his nostrils.
"You think I'm fucking afraid of you, bitch? I'll choke you until you pass out and fuck your lifeless?—"
I don't let him finish. No. My eyes blurring and my windpipe being crushed, I use the last remaining strength in me to pull away slightly and slam the sharp end of the box cutter into his neck. Blood spurts out, and for the first time since I arrived, I don't care that my appearance is fucked up. If anything, witnessing this man bleed is the perfect accessory to my outfit.
Doing the only thing my rational brain can think of, I yank out the blade and shove it back in, this time in his chest. He stumbles back, his eyes going wide with what I can only imagine is confusion and shock and terror. I plunge it in one more time, two times, three times. I keep stabbing him until he collapses onto the floor, and I climb onto his body, straddling his torso in a way I'm sure he never fucking imagined, and don't stop until the life has left him and I'm sure he can never touch me ever again.
It isn't until my ragged breaths are interrupted by the sound of the keypad at the front entrance that I return to reality, the blood-soaked blade in my grasp and my dead boss below me.
My chest tightens, and fear unlike any other washes over me. I just killed a man. My boss. I brutally murdered him. I didn’t die by Joshua’s hand but there’s no way Ricardo will be content if I go to prison.
The door opens, footsteps follow, and then the door latches shut.
The person inhales, exhales, and then clears their throat. "Cora, you in here? I'm a few minutes early."
"I'm..." I rise to my feet as best as possible because what other options do I have. There's no hiding or denying that I'm covered in my mutilated boss’s blood. "I'm right here."
A moment later, a figure comes into my blurry line of sight, the welcoming smile fading as he takes me in.
He moves quick and it causes me to lose my balance and fall, my ass hitting the floor hard.
"Cora, Christ." Miller's hands are on me in an instant, gripping my elbows and helping me to my feet. His blue-ish gaze trails over me hurriedly. "Are you hurt?" He takes pause at my waist where my clothes are ripped. "Did he—?" But he cuts himself off. "Talk to me, Cora."
"I'm okay," I manage to get out and let my attention fall to the man bleeding out onto the freshly laid tile flooring. That's definitely going to stain the grout. I should start cleaning it now if there's any chance of not causing permanent damage. "I need to..." I point toward the mess. "I need to clean this up." I sniffle and go to wipe at my nose and spot the box cutter still tucked so tightly in my fist that my knuckles hurt. "I...I killed him."
"Cora." Miller steadies my shoulder and uses his other hand to pry the weapon from my clutches. "Everything is going to be fine." His voice is calm and soothing, and I want to wrap myself up in it and stay cocooned in its protection.
"Bu-but...my client will be here any minute. Some billionaire guy. Oh my god. He's going to walk in here to this. To this fucking bloodbath." My heart races, and I can't seem to catch my breath.
"Cora," Miller repeats my name for what feels like the fiftieth time. He sighs before saying, "I'm your client."
I blink a few times and try to process his words. "What?"
"Yes. I bought a unit in the building. I was the client you were supposed to be meeting this morning."
Things start slowly falling into place…
How else would he have had the code to get into the unit in the first place? Maybe he really is telling the truth. Or maybe I've had a psychotic episode because I'm in shock over killing my boss. Maybe Miller is a safe person my conscious conjured up to save me from this nightmare. Maybe I can plead insanity when they take me to prison.
"Well," I say, my voice strained as I war with myself. "I...I should show you around before the cops come."
"I don't care about the design, Cora. I never did."
"Oh."
"And the cops aren't coming. I won't let that happen." Miller sets the box cutter on the counter and focuses his attention on me. "Are you hurt? I can't tell if the blood is yours or his." He hovers his hands near me but doesn't touch my body, almost like he's afraid I'm a bomb that will explode if he does.
