Before I could stop myself, before my brain caught up with what my body was doing, I typed back:
Me: Can I come up?
There was a pause. Five seconds. Ten. My heart was beating so hard it hurt.
Then—
Joshua: Sure.
I sat there on my bed, the envelope heavy in my lap, staring at the word.
I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t sleep with this gnawing at me, with the thought of that much money in my possession. From him. No. I had to give it back.Right now.
I held the envelope and forced myself out the door. My legs felt like lead carrying me down the hall, every step too loud in the quiet corridor. My hands shook so badly that I almost dropped the envelope inside the elevator.
And when the doors closed around me, my reflection stared back, pale, wide-eyed, clutching a bag like I was smuggling a crime scene.
The elevator ride up was suffocating. By the time I reached his door, my palms were wet, my knees shaking. I hadn’t even changed. The skirt, the heels, the blouse that felt two sizes too small, all of it was still on me. Still marking me.
I knocked. Lightly at first. Then harder when there was no answer.
The door opened.
And there he was. Joshua. Towering, expression unreadable, eyes flicking from my face to the envelope I was clutching like a lifeline.
My throat locked up. I shoved it forward, both hands, desperate.Take it. Please, just take it.
For a second, he just stared. Then his jaw clenched, and he shut the door with a loud slam that caught me completely off guard.
Huh?
I blinked. Heat surged through me: embarrassment, humiliation, the sharp sting of rejection. Of course. What was I thinking? Barging in here like this, in this outfit, clutching cash like some desperate—
I turned, pressing my back to the door.
He didn’t want it. He didn’t wantmehere. And still, I couldn’t make myself move, especially with this stupid… this stupid envelope still in my hands.
The envelope felt heavier with every second I stood there. My hands ached from holding it out. My heart ached more. The door stayed shut. But my chest was caving in, panic clawing up my throat.
If I walked away now—if I left this money in my apartment—what if it became a chain around my ankle? What if it meant the same thing as it did when those men at the club slipped bills beneath their glasses, expecting more?
My fist rose before I could stop it. I knocked again. Harder. Desperate. The pause stretched longer this time, and when the door clicked, I braced myself.
Joshua stood there again. Shirt clinging to his chest, jaw locked so tight I could hear the grind of his teeth. He wasn’t cold; he wasangry.His eyes burned holes straight through the envelope, then lifted to me.
I held it out again, shaking. Please. Take it. Take it so I can breathe.
He didn’t. Instead, with a sharp movement, he reached inside the door and grabbed something off the hook. A jacket.
Before I could flinch away, he swung it around me, drowning my body in fabric that smelled like him. It hung off my shoulders, swallowing me whole, but it covered me. Every inch.
“Go home,” he bit out, voice low, furious. “Go to sleep. It’s late. Just… go home.”
The door shut again. Slam. And then,click. Locked.
I stood there, frozen. Wrapped in him. My fingers dug into the envelope, my throat too tight to swallow. The fabric was warm against my skin, soft, heavy, smelling faintly of clean laundry and something darker, sharper,him.
He didn’t want the money back…
