They head insidetogether.
Air won’t come. My lungs refuse to expand properly, like someone’s sitting on my chest.
I’m out of my SUV before I realize it. My hands shake as I pull out my wallet, barely registering the parking lot beneath my feet or the other cars I pass. The desperation rolling off me must be obvious because an elderly woman with groceries gives me a wide berth.
The security guard at the desk looks up as I approach, his greeting dying on his lips when he sees my face.
“Sir, you can’t—”
I slam three hundred-dollar bills on the desk between us. The sound echoes in the small lobby. “I need to get upstairs. Now.”
He glances at the bills. At my face, which must show exactly how close to the edge I am. Back to the bills.
“Look, I’m not supposed to—”
I add two more hundreds. His hand moves toward the money. He pockets the cash quickly, glancing around to make sure no one saw. “Go right in, sir.”
I don’t waste time. I follow her scent through the building, up the stairs, down a hallway. The trail is fresh, strong. Her scent mingles with his, and that proximity makes rage cloud my vision.
Third floor. The scent leads me around a corner and stops at apartment 304. The door is closed but not locked.
I don’t knock. I shove it open hard enough that it bangs against the wall.
Violet jerks upright, the pen she was holding clattering to the table at which she is seated. The man standing beside her stumbles back a step, his hand going to his chest.
They both stare at me, shock freezing them in place.
Violet speaks first. “Wha–What are you doing here?”
The sound that wants to escape me isn’t human. It’s the howl of an animal watching a stranger near its mate. Every muscle in my body locks tight, trembling with the effort of staying still. Of not crossing the room and tearing him away from her.
I force words out through clenched teeth. “Why are you out here at seven in the evening with a strange man?”
The human’s eyes go wide. He glances between us, and I see the exact moment understanding dawns on his face. His hands come up, palms out, the universal gesture of surrender.
“Oh! Oh, no—I’m her realtor.” He takes another step back from the table, putting more distance between himself and Violet. “I’m helping her with an apartment lease. That’s all.”
I blink. What?
Violet’s expression shifts from shock to fury in a heartbeat. She slams her hand down on the table, the sound sharp in the sudden silence.
“He’s my real estate agent, Darius.” Her voice is cold. Controlled. But I can see the rage building behind her eyes, can smell it mixing with her scent. “And why the hell are you following me around like this? Are you stalking me?”
The accusation stings because it’s true. I open my mouth. Close it. I have no defense. No explanation that won’t make this worse.
She gets up and advances on me. I find myself backing up despite being bigger, stronger, more dominant. Each jab of her finger into my chest punctuates her words.
“Well?” Jab. “Are you going to answer me?” Jab. “Or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?” Jab.
“I was worried about you,” I mutter.
“Worried?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You were worried, so you followed me? Stalked me to an apartment I’m trying to lease?”
“I didn’t know—”
“You didn’t know because it’s none of your business!” Her finger jabs harder. “My life is none of your business!”
“Violet—”
