“We’ll find out who’s after you.” His deep voice, with a subtle hint of the South that Boston hasn’t yet dampened, makes me feel safe, and I sniffle loudly as I slide the broken heirloom onto my dresser.
“I always felt safe here.” A fresh cascade of tears tumbles over my cheeks, and Dax eases himself down and urges me to lean against him. “If he could bypass Alfie…”
“Evianna, look at—or…never mind. Just listen.” Staring at the floor, he continues. “Nothing we do tonight is going to find this guy any quicker. You’re hurt and exhausted. Pack a bag. Whatever you need for a couple of days. Vasquez is guarding your laptop. In the morning, call in sick, and we’ll figure the rest out then.”
“I…can’t. We’re so close to launch.” Swiping the back of my hand over my damp cheeks, I sniffle loudly. “I have to—”
“Stop.” Dax rests his hands on my shoulders. “What’s the worst thing that’ll happen if you don’t go in tomorrow?”
I don’t have an answer for him. Just more tears. I hate crying. Feeling like my life is out of control. Hate that I don’t feel safe in my own home.
“Evianna, let’s get up now. Okay? Get your things together so we can get out of here.” Dax supports me with his hand on my arm as I push to my feet, and for a second or two, we’re close enough I feel his breath on my cheek. He smells like rain and something spicy and woodsy. I wish he’d put his arms around me. I felt safe when he held me earlier. But a moment later, he picks his way over the clothes scattered along my bedroom floor and waits at the door.
Ten minutes later, Dax follows me down the stairs. He didn’t say a word as I packed three days’ worth of clothes, my toothbrush, make-up bag, and my mother’s pearl ring. The only thing I have left that’s not broken.
The ride to his apartment passes in silence, Dax staring straight ahead while I let my gaze drift over the lights of the city. Why couldn’t I have overlooked Kyle’s infraction? Or…just ordered him to delete the files and let him keep working. Maybe then…I’d still feel safe. Instead, I’m being driven halfway across town to stay with a man who both terrifies and reassures me.
“We’re here, boss. Had to double park. Door’s at twelve o’clock.” Vasquez gets my bag out of the trunk while Dax weaves between two parked cars and up three steps to a dark blue door. “Ronan’s watching your house tonight, ma’am. I’ll be out here.”
For a brief second, I wonder if Vasquez really would take me to a hotel and stay outside the door all night long. But then Dax calls my name, and I realize I don’t want to be alone.
10
Evianna
“VoiceAssist, all lights on, sixty percent,” Dax says as he opens his door and gestures for me to enter.
Spartan. That’s the only way to describe the space. Plain, beige walls, undecorated. A leather sofa underneath the window, two matching chairs opposite with a utilitarian coffee table in between.
“Bedroom’s off to the left.” Sinking down onto a bench by the door, Dax toes off his shoes and tucks them under the dark wood before placing his briefcase, his now folded cane, and his keys on the adjacent table. “You should get some rest. I just need to get a pillow and blanket for the couch.”
I follow him into his private space, dropping my duffel bag next to the bed as I run my fingers over the perfectly straightened duvet. I don’t think he lives here as much as he exists here. No personal touches. Everything’s black or gray or dark brown.
“I can take the couch,” I offer. “This is your home, and I appreciate you…uh…taking me in for the night.”
“You’re getting the bed.” With a blanket tucked under his arm, he heads for the nightstand, but before I can warn him, he trips on my duffel bag and goes down, one knee slamming into the bed frame with an audible crack. “Fucking hell,” he growls as he struggles to his feet.
“Oh God. I’m so sorry.” Rushing over to him, I try to help, but he yanks his arm away. Tears burn my eyes—again, and I’m so sick of crying, the sensation carries me even closer to the edge of another breakdown.
His chest heaves, the white button-down shirt straining across his pecs. “Rules,” he spits out, grabbing my hand and limping into the bathroom, tugging me along with him. “Anything you touch—anything—goes back in the exact same spot.” Pointing at various items, he continues. “Toothpaste. Shampoo. Soap. Mouthwash. Tylenol. Everything has a place. A very precise place. Swap the Tylenol with the Imitrex or the shampoo with the toothpaste and I’m in a world of hurt. You understand?”
“Y-yes.” The realities of his life crash down on me, and I realize what a huge deal it is that he’s even willing to have me here.
But he’s not done. Leading me back towards the bed, he gestures to my duffel bag. “Nothing on the floor. Ever. Shoes go under the bed. All the way.” Back out in the main room, he nods at the carpet. “See the tape?”
Small, white Xs rest under each of the chair and table legs. “Yes.”
“I can’t. They tell my housekeeper exactly where to put the furniture when she moves it to vacuum. One inch off, and I’m going to trip and crack my head open.”
“I get it,” I snap. “I’m sorry. This is all new to me. Being stalked. Being attacked in my home. Knowing someone…blind. Taking the bed of a man I’ve only just met while he sleeps on the couch. I’m scared and tired and fucking up all over the place. And my mistakes could hurt you.” My anger morphs into something more, something dark and terrifying, and tears tumble down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away.
“Evianna—”
“No. You’re right. I need to know all this. I’m going to move my duffel bag and let the office know I’m working remotely tomorrow. Or…today, I guess, since it’s after midnight. Can I…uh…use your toothpaste? I think I forgot mine. I’ll make sure it’s put back properly.” If I have to face this man in front of me for another minute, I’m going to break down, and that’s already happened once tonight.
“Use whatever you need.” His voice is softer now, almost apologetic, but I don’t care. I trudge off to the bedroom, put my duffel bag on the bed, and sink down with my tablet.
The bathroom door closes, and water runs as I send a company-wide email.
